Beyond being crude, vulgar, racist, homophobic, misogynist, and non-melodious, rap doesn’t help engender memories. The real crime of rap “music” is that it is rendering a generation of listeners bereft of the types of melodic memories that enhanced the lives of their parents and grandparents.

One night, I had nothing to do, so to prove how mindless and how little creativity rap music requires, I wrote 8 or 10 rap “songs” – it only takes about 6 to 8 minutes for each (real artistry!). Here is a “cleaned-up” version of one of the eight:

Whining Time
by Jeff Davidson

I’m nearly feeling fine, so it is the time to whine.
In a world of opportunity, I’ll pretend there’s none I see.
Instead, I’ll bitch and moan in syncopated groans

You wouldn’t be crazy, if you called me lazy,
but with all the flying B.S., the situation now is hazy.

I left the path to learning science or math;
these are nerdy courses that just incur my wrath.

I’m a rap artist, it’s plain to see.
If you don’t ‘preciate my poetry, I’ll bust you in the knee.

I’m feeling kinda funky, not too spunky,
in a land of opportunity, I’ll pretend there’s none for me.
I’ll fuss and holler, and hustle for a dollar.

It simply does amaze me, to get a job is crazy.
Spouting leftist rhetoric, I want to be like Jay-Z.

I’m so off the path, my mind is close to ‘daft.’
Excel in academics? Get lost, you make me laugh.

I’m a famous rap artist, as anyone can tell.
If you don’t ‘preciate my artistry, f-you and go to hell.