youngmanhattanite:

You will not be able to stay home, sisters and brothers.
You will not be able to log in, turn on your 3G and tweet out.
You will not be able to call yourself on skype and tag yourself on foursquare,
instagram pictures of beer during youtube ads,
Because the revolution will not be live-blogged.

The revolution will not be live-blogged.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xanga
In 4 links without pop-ups.
The revolution will not show you pictures of cats
blowing a vuvuzela and leading a charge by John Lennon, J.J. Abrams and Felix Salmon to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem coffee shop.
The revolution will not be live-blogged.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Webbies or Streamies and will not star Natalie
Portman and Steve Martin or garfield minus garfield and Julie Klausner.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the n00bs.
The revolution will not make you look five notes
richer, because the revolution will not be live-blogged, Sisters and Brothers.

There will be no pictures of you and Billy Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that Macbook Pro into a stolen ambulance.
MSNBC.com will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be live-blogged.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in GIFs.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in GIFs.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Houston being
run out of Atlanta on a rail with a brand new meme.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Anderson Cooper strolling through Liberation Square in a Red, Black and Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
for just the proper occasion.

Glee, Modern Family, and Parks and
Recreation will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if The Situation finally gets down with Snookie on Jersey Shore because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be live-blogged.

There will be no highlights on the weekend round-up
and no listicles of hairy armed women
liberationists and Sady Doyle blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Webby,
Saint Francis, nor sung by Glenn Beck, Mike
Jones, Johnny and Jenny, Englebert Humperdink, or Earth.
The revolution will not be live-blogged.

The revolution will not begin after 12 seconds of this advertisement
about white Denim, white lightning/white heat, or white people.
You will not have to worry about Dove on your
dashboard, a Tiger Mother in your GoogleReader, or the FEK in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Diet Coke.
The revolution will not Orabrush away the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will give you the glog-in.

The revolution will not be live-blogged, will not be live-blogged,
will not be live-blogged, will not be live-blogged.
The revolution will be no reblogs, brothers and sisters;
The revolution will be live.

I suppose this poem would be more poignant if it were actually true. Don’t be silly, of course the revolution will be live blogged. Because how will all the other arm chair revolutionaries know where to overthrow the status-quo if it’s not on twitter/facebook/bebo/MySpace etc?

Things that are both sad and true: this.