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| "This is sin! It's a sin, it's a sin, it's a sin!" |
There's a damn good reason I posted this on a Tuesday.
I haven't watched movies in a while, so there's nothing I can really say on
that end of the HoH spectrum. SO, I'll do a 180 and flip over to my other favorite thing: music.
Yes, music was done a great injustice recently. I'm sure that, by now, most of you have heard the nasally vocals of what I assume to be a thirteen-year-old banshee--Rebecca Black. Her song, "Friday" has some of the most inane mutterings and shallow lyrics since Yoko Ono's "Why". At least "Why" had an awesome John Lennon guitar intro. But then--
the screeching commenced. With Black's "Friday," we aren't even granted 15 seconds of sweet mercy before hear what sounds like a chipmunk being tortured by a Trigonometry student. Don't believe me? Witness the horror.
Rebecca Black - Friday OFFICIAL VIDEO (of HORROR)
The video began innocently enough. Miss Black Friday "wakes up fresh" at "7 AM." The woman gets up at 7 AM? Do chipmunks also help her get dressed? I don't think I've gotten up at 7 AM on a weekday since I was 3. It's this sort of indulgence that makes me hate this kid right off the bat. If I didn't get up at 5:30 AM like everyone else on the planet, I'd be dancing off the walls too. But no; that's not the case. I have
things to do. Screw you, lucky badger.
Next, she tells us that she has to get a bowl to get cereal. WOAH. What muse did the gods bestow upon you to play such harps of inspiration to thine ears? CEREAL. Not waffles? You are most bold, Miss Black.
She then goes out to catch the bus, but her prepubescent cronies pull up in Chrysler convertible. I'm starting to think that this a town populated with people who commit Ponzi schemes because they are
saturated with material excess.
But then our young artist is faced with a dilemma (in order to garner empathy, I assume): Which seat should she take in her friends 5-seated car, when there are 4 people in the other seats? You know, some people are preoccupied with where their next meal will come from or whether or not they can support their family. You're worried about where your ass (or as the Queen of England would say: "posterior") will be in your friends' luxury car. Attempting to sympathize------------->ERROR: SYMPATHY NOT FOUND. But Becky Black doesn't seem to get it;
this is the lead to her chorus throughout the song. Even when it doesn't make any freakin' sense. (Also, isn't she supposed to be taking the bus? People will think she got kidnapped. Which will either stir up concern or relief...)
The rest of the song, Rebecca sings about "fun" and "partying" while her "friends" (who she probably bullied into doing this) squirm uncomfortably as if a man in a white jacket was hiding behind the green screen with a large hypodermic needle and a Taser. Actually, I'm debating on whether or not these kids actually exist. Because the background vocals sound kind of like a laugh-track. And she's going to a party in someone's yard. While I'll admit, that's more interesting than my weekends (giving due credit to StumbleUpon), she builds it up an awful lot for it just to be someone's backyard with a bunch of Chinese lanterns. Not even Hawaiian punch and Chex Mix? If that's the case, the parties are
way more kickin' in my hood.
As if this video wasn't already an insult to my intelligence, her bridge is telling me what day of the week it is. She already told me a million times that it's Friday, but at this moment she takes the time to remind me, using her powers of deduction, that yesterday was Thursday, today was Friday, tomorrow will be Saturday, and the day after that will be Sunday. This must be one hell of a party if you have to constantly remind your self of what order the days go in. Do you have a giant unicorn statue made out of crack that has worn your synapses down to the nub?
And, of course, there's the obligatory middle-aged man who, apparently, has nothing better to do but rap about the spoiled 13-year-old girl. This is a testament to the state of our economy. I feel really awful for this man. This girl was thinking, "Hey, Mr. Smith! He should rap in my music video!" and of course he didn't mind since he's probably a teacher in Wisconsin who could use a second income from Rebecca's daddy, who I'm pretty sure is either a record producer or a very menacing man, as this trash would not see the light of day otherwise. Also, I think this guy is the only African-American in the entire video. Which is unfortunate for the African-American community, as he is a 40-something year old man driving around a middle school party. I can't help but feel that that presents negative stereotypes. And not even the usual stereotypes. People who drive around middle school parties are normally men who wear 99 cent glasses and have a creepy John Waters-style mustache.
This song is one of the worst crimes committed against pop culture, and I'm including the Oscars being hosted by James Franco and Anne Hathaway. My advice to Ms. Black: please, for the love of God, finish school and do something
good in this world. So you're not an artist. So what? Have you ever
seen an artist? You have two fates if you choose to be an artist: 1) starve to death in an abandoned boathouse OR 2) have hipsters whine at you for "selling out" after you make enough money to pay your water bill. The unfortunate part is that the former is preferable to the latter. So do what you've proven to do well in: getting unnecessary attention for something absolutely insubstantial, which narrows down to marketing and professional blogging.
I'm afraid I must draw this post to a nasally screech--I mean abrupt close. Viddy well, little brother. Viddy well.
