How do you feel about this "unwritten" rule of writing, and do you break it?

Stephen King used to be berated by literary critics for breaking this rule of writing -

Never include time-specific Pop culture in your writing.

He broke that rule constantly, mentioning commercials, happy meals, toys, gadgets - all kinds of things that a reader forty years later would have no idea about. That is why it is considered a big no-no in writing. It made his books more "real" to the people who read it when it was written, but inaccessible to the future.

This is particularly true in poetry, where 'timelessness' seems to be, perhaps, the primary goal.

Still - if there's a rule, one wants to break it - 'least I do. Here is my blatant attempt.

The Sword Of Six Degrees

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Upon a quest to solve the riddles preying on my mind,

Took note the planets' angles and the stars to which aligned,

Cast die upon the giant's skull, intoned the Dirge of Scourge,

Spilt blood and summoned forcefully the Demon of the Gorge.

Inflamed volcanic splatter-flash erupted where I stood,

As the Demon of Gnaritas lit the road, the field, the wood,

It’s evil eyes of intent focused fiercely on my frame;

I squarely faced it back while chanting out it's cursed name.

In banshee scream, in frothing voice, "Just tell me your demands",

"Answers to my questions, and a way across these lands."

The Demon swelled, flames fanned my face, 'til skin was singed and seared;

An apparition of a jewel-encrusted sword appeared.

"Mere mortal, I've accorded for your quest's illumination,

Behold the mighty sword of six degrees of separation.

Grasp this weighty sword before you, firm in iron grip,

March west through fallow fields until you reach the power strip.

Impale the power strip upon the spot that's red as blood,

Do not miss, Good Knight, or you will die in lightning flood.

Once stabbed, a square of pixy light will shine with static sound;

'Tis by this oracle your brooding answers will be found.

Find spread across the field, skeleton keys locked to a board.

You must order them correctly, enter, find the password stored.

Beyond the wall of fire lies a spider, hitch a ride,

Hang on, the web it travels navigates the whole world wide.

The widow black will take you to the Google Monster's lair;

A million tentacles, and most won't lead you anywhere.

The arm that's scarred the most will point the way you must ascend,

To the Land of Wikipedia, and there your quest will end."

The demon thrashed in fire-spit, began to separate,

I threw one final query t’ward the closing of Hell's gate.

"In this land of Wikipedia, I can trust the answers found?"

The demon's gutter-cackled laughter shook the blistered ground.

It's final words, as drifting smoky haze across the breeze -

"All roads lead to Wikipedia through the sword of six degrees.

A land where truth and lies are in the eyes of the beholder."

I raise the sword, my quest begun, the demon left to smolder.

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