Punk In My Heart.

If I told the average person I worship punk, they would probably laugh in my face. "A gay boy with an electro pop obsession loving the outlaws of the 70's? Hahahaha!" But let's get real. Punk is more than just torn up jeans and unwashed hair. Punk is the philosophy of fuck you in a blender full of piss and lyrical melodies. That's pretty effing homosexual. Any boy rocking a set of stilettos is flicking off every homophobic born again in the mid west. I recently read Rolling Stone's Kurt Cobain book, a collection of every article they published on the last rock God the earth may ever know. Jann and the other editors made punk sound like some sort of unstructured piece of musical feces when in reality Television, the Sex Pistols, Lou Reed, and Patty Smith wrote melodies as moving as the Beatles and hooks as catchy as Bloodyshy and Avant. It may seem that punk died with disco, but like disco, it's in all sorts of popular music. Britney shaving her head? That's fucking punk. Lady Gaga's reference to her dick in the "Telephone" video? That's mother fucking punk. Punk ain't dead, it's just now covered in spandex and electro beats. It's not about the poor hygiene. It's about the ethics, bitches.