After a recent night of boredom and more caffeine than I’m willing to admit, I sat down to watch music videos on VH1 and MTV. It was late, and I was somewhat tired but sort of at that stage of could-fall-asleep-but-don’t-want-to-because-it’s-only-12. So I stayed up.Needless to say, my motivation to stay awake ended as soon as the first “song” began to play.I was appalled, at first, then frustrated, then just flat-out amazed. Some idiot with more metal in his mouth than a junkyard was on the screen, surrounded by his entourage and, as he quite nicely put it, “my hoes.”He began rapping about his tough upbringing and the life he led out on the streets, about how he “runs the town” and all the people in it. There really was no chorus because he just rhymed words that had no relevance to the song whatsoever.Last time I checked, kindergartners can rhyme similar sounds together. This lame excuse for an artist then proceeded to share with us his every sexual desire/fantasy/experience in a whirlwind of metaphors.”L-l-l-l-l-lick it like a lollipop?””Pop her what?””Teach me how to dougie…?”The originality amazes me.It’s astounding to me what passes for music today. Where are the meaningful lyrics, the ones that don’t degrade others or glamorize some thug, low-rent lifestyle? Perhaps even more ridiculous than the artists themselves are the idiots that worship these faux talents.It almost seems like if you know the right person and you can craft a unique stage name (Flo Rida? Lil’ what? T-Pain?), you’re talented enough to release a single. It’s no longer required to have decent pipes, nor is it necessary to be somewhat talented lyrically.If you are willing to wear baggy clothes, shades and a chain that hangs low then hey, Hollywood’s waiting.If you have the time (and/or talent) you can even write a song about how much you despise a fellow artist and his posse back home. You can deal drugs, steal money, carry an illegal weapon and fight dogs for fun.You can even be incarcerated for a serious crime. I don’t know about you, but with a resume like that you wouldn’t even be allowed to flip burgers at the B.K. Lounge.I wouldn’t know where to begin if I had to create “music” like this. I curse, I admit, but just for the sake of it? Not really. I enjoy money, but I don’t deal or steal to get it.And I would enjoy being famous, but not for the number of times I’ve been shot. It’s nothing more than a false image built on a facade of money, drugs, sex and fame that people with true talent most often don’t meddle in.My only issue isn’t with just the rap or hip-hop scenes; I feel like talent is lacking in all areas of music. Why did Madonna need hundreds of back-up dancers and shirtless Spartans carrying her onstage during the Super Bowl halftime show?If it were really about the voice and talent, that extra stuff wouldn’t be necessary. So many artists today are gorgeous sports cars with no engines – they need the flare to stay relevant.I do recognize that other genres of music have their whacked out characters as well, but my gripe is with the sudden and insane craving the musical nation has developed for untalented musicians.Maybe I just don’t like it because I can’t identify with the lyrics or message. Then again, I do like Andrea Boccelli, and I can’t speak a word of Italian.