To: Kesha/Ke$ha – You Are Pretty – From: KSWI Jordan

Yesterday’s post was a revealing one. I have been suffering from cold sweats, panic attacks, shortness of breath and vivid hallucinations of dragonflies with grapefruit sized vaginas singing “Under the Sea”. Today will be a far less stressful endeavor into comedy for me. Instead of psychoanalyzing myself for any latent homosexuality tendencies, I will instead continue with topics that are reverently heterosexual like dancey bullshit pop music. This post will focus on me breaking down the artistic wonder that is Kesha also known as Ke$ha and her soul searching symphony “Tik Tok”. 

This is not the first time I have deconstructed a pop single phenomenon. On my previous website, What Gloom, my song of choice was “Love in the Club” by Usher.  If I remember correctly, it was received very well by the four people who read it. I think all of them gave it a “thumbs up” or “yeah, it’s pretty funny” or “I skimmed it” or “you should really write professionally, son.” Yep, those were the reviews. The last review was from my mother who calls me “son” and I call her “mawh” and we live in the middle of a perpetual dust storm in the 1930’s. 

Why “Tik Tok”? 

The song is the biggest. The last week of 2009, “Tik Tok” sold 610,000 digital downloads, which is the highest selling female artist single since the internet began tracking this in 2003. It is the second most sold song online since 2003 behind “Right Round” by Flo Rida, which, coincidence be gone, she is the chick doing the female vocals in that song as well. All told, the song “Tik Tok” has been bought and paid for online 2,440,000 times, which is CRAZY because I was under the impression everyone knew music was free to download. Why are people paying for it? And roughly 2.5 million people! That’s everybody and Al Qaeda downloading this song with their credit cards in hand. 

I know I have heard the song on the radio more than I can count at this point. It was questioned yesterday what radio stations I listen to that enable me the honor of listening to Real McCoy yesterday. I have six FM presets: 89.5 (metal/hard rock), 101.9 (alt rock), 92.3 (dance/pop), 97.1 (supposedly hip hop, but it really is just commercials and shit), 103.5 (no idea), 104.3 (classic rock). It was preset #5 (103.5) that had Real McCoy on it, I’m not sure what their target audience is. Usually they are on commercials, but I’ve heard everything from “world music” to “Bob Marley” (which is more “world music” than “world music” is “world music” anyway) to “Real McCoy”, obviously. 

Preset #3 (92.3) used to be KROQ or K-Rock or commercial hard rock like Green Day et cetera. They had been around forever, but last year or so they folded and a dance/pop music station took over. It is not like there are a ton of radio stations out there that play good music, so I kept 92.3 in my rotation. This has given me the privilege to hear and know all Beyonce, Britney Spears, Pussycat Dolls, Lil’ Wayne and all the other great artists of this awful period in time. 

Anyway, let’s talk about Kesha or Ke$ha who I’m going to call Kesha because I don’t feel hitting [shift]+[4] every time I write her name. Kesha is 22 from Los Angeles and grew up in Nashville. I could be mean and say something like she’s a blonde valley bimbo raised in a trailer, but what would be the point in that? She seems perfectly nice on the surface. And by that I mean she is a pretty blonde with a great body and hopefully sooner than later some 15 year old Chinese kid will crack her iPhone and all her naked pictures she takes of herself out at the clubs kissing her girlfriends because that’s “girls being girls” will be posted on the internet for my and yours and Al Qaeda’s viewing pleasure. 

I read her oddly long biography on Wikipedia, she is 22! And here are the highlights: her mom is a singer and songwriter and encouraged Kesha with her dreams, her family hosted Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton on The Simple Life and Nicole Richie actually hung up on a music producer who was trying to get in touch with Kesha about her demos, she wanted Prince to producer her album (yeah and everyone else), she broke into his house, she was supposed to sing the background vocals on a Paris Hilton song and ended up throwing up in her closet, but it doesn’t mention if she sang the vocals or not, she’s appeared on a whole bunch of songs that are popular, didn’t get paid for “Right Round” and didn’t want to appear in the video for “Right Round” because it wouldn’t mesh with her “image”. I’m sorry, WTF? Appearing in the video for the most popular song on Earff would probably only push the “image” that you are successful in the music industry currently. I’m not going to argue though. 

Enough prelude. “Tik Tok” by Kesha. 

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy 

Already, I am on the same page as Kesha. A little subtext for this ground breaking simile lyric, apparently she lives/lived in a house with a bunch of other young beautiful girls who want to be pop singers as well. So she would wake up every morning to a revolving door of young beautiful model like girls walking around. This is exactly like my life minus the revolving door of hot girls who sing falsetto. Both Kesha and I continue to wake up in the morning and our first thoughts are of Sean John Combs. 

(Hey, what up girl?) 

Yes?

Put my glasses on, I’m out the door – I’m gonna hit this city (Let’s go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back 

I agree Kesha. You definitely want to brush your teeth with a bottle of Jack before you go out because who knows when you’ll get that opportunity to brush them with bourbon later in the day. In all seriousness, I do not brush my teeth with Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whisky. I pretty much always use “water” and “toothpaste”. My question, is the Jack Daniel’s sour mash whisky a substitute for the water, the toothpaste or both the water and the toothpaste? 

I’m talking – pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-topping, playing our favorite cds
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy 

“Pedicure on our toes, toes”? Miss Obvious, everyone! Give me some credit, Kesha. I know where the pedicure goes. I did take two years of Latin – “ped” means foot and “icure” means Korean woman with a nail file. I don’t try on all my clothes, but I’m pretty familiar with the other four activities. I usually have MEN calling and not “boys” calling me, but both sets of males do want to get us drunk. For her it is to try and date rape her probably, where as for me it is to get us drunk enough to forget our youth is dying everyday and we are becoming bored and complacent with our lives and because sports are much more fun to watch when drunk. Music, parties, getting “tipsy”- sure. 

[CHORUS]
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh 

I love the “woah-oh oh oh” noise. I find it audibly mesmerizing. As far as “I’mma fight ‘Till we see the sunlight”, uhhh go have fun with that. My fighting days are way behind me. One thing you learn from watching fights all the time is you don’t want to be in one. Especially one that has no referee or judges’ table. Also, for guys fighting has gotten exponentially scarier. It used to be that if you got into a fight with some dude, it was just that – “some dude”. Now it is a purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu who has a background in collegiate wrestling and is starting to take Muay Thai on his “off days”. It used to be the nothing special looking asshole at the bar who winks at your girl was just some cubicle drone and a fight with him was no more intense than a playground scuffle in elementary school. Now, that nothing special asshole is a mini-Chuck Norris and he is going to drop you with a flying knee and then reverse heal hook you until your shin bone snaps in half. So no fighting for me. I’m like Switzerland nowadays at a bar.

[Chorus]
Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here
Now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger 

Uh huh, #4 on the KSWI “A List of Men Over 60 Years Old Women Would F@#K”. I’m a damn prophet. Mick Jagger is 66 and Kesha is 22 and I AM ALWAYS CORRECT! 

A quick “chicken or the egg” quandary: 

Does Kesha “ain’t got a care in the world” because she has “plenty of beer”? Or does Kesha have “plenty of beer” because she “ain’t got a care in the world”? Is her drunkenness causing her to forget her problems? Or does she have no problems because she is always drunk and thus has removed herself of any and all societal obligations being a hobo wino? 

I’m talking about – everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys trying to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk

This seems like a double standard. Kesha clearly wants everybody to get “crunk”. But if a guy gets too “drunk” then she is going to “smack him”. What is it you want, Kesha? You can’t have it both ways. You can’t expect a guy who is getting crunk to not get too drunk and try to touch your junk. That is just common knowledge. 

Also, I am assuming “junk” is referring to her ass. I think it is hopefully safe to say “junk” is referring to “junk in the trunk” and all this means is her supple ass. Or she has a penis. Generally speaking, I don’t think Kesha has a penis. Also I don’t like girls referring to their “situation” as “junk” or their ass as “junk” without using the entire phrase of “junk in the trunk”. I feel like it is more a fault of an unfortunate rhyming sequence where “crunk” and “drunk” worked so perfectly together and for timing’s sake “junk” was used without the “in the trunk”. So just around me at least, refrain from using “junk” to refer to your butt or vagina because it will confuse me into thinking you have a penis. Unless you have a penis then please feel free to refer to your junk as your junk. 

Now, now – we goin’ til they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us – 

This just seems like a hostile ultimatum Kesha and her friends are giving the bar or club owners. Either physically remove a series of young drunk females from the bar yourselves or call the police to do so. Whoever actually does the removal process will be left with scratches regardless of height, age, sex, or authority. Girls scratch. They also will bite and probably pull hair and kick and throw drinks and do anything, but go peacefully. 

Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh 

I really don’t want the DJ to literally blow up my speakers. I’m lazy and if you do blow up my speakers it will take forever for me to replace them. I go to work, I go home and there are things I want to accomplish that I push until the weekend, but then I end up drinking or playing video games or watching sports. So leave my speakers alone. Play it loud, sure. But not loud enough that anything will break.

Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh 

Plus, why are we using my speakers? If anything the bar or the club should have a stereo system of some sort. If that is not the case then you as the disc jockey should have been prepared with your own audio equipment. How did I get roped into bringing my speakers to this place? Whose asinine idea was it for me to bring my speakers from home to a bar or club? And don’t break them. I must have a lot of faith in you as a DJ to allow you to use my speakers and don’t go dissolving that trust by damaging my speakers. At this point, I am just uncomfortable about the whole idea of you using my speakers for commercial purposes. Just give them back to me.

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
You got me now
You gotta that sound
Yea, you got me 

Sounds like a Christian revival or something. 

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
Get your hands up
Put your hands up 

I’ll put my hands up if everyone else does. Deal? I’m not going to be the only one standing there with their hands up looking like an idiot. It will be like giving a standing ovation. If I see a dozen people stand-up then sure I’ll go along with it. I’m not starting the standing ovation though. At best, I’ll do the lean to the edge of my seat move where you clap extra loud in anticipation of the standing ovation. I’m just saying this is my commitment level to putting my hands up.

No, the party don’t start until I walk in 

The party “doesn’t” start until you walk in, sure. I guess I can see that. Kesha is a pretty young blonde who brushes her teeth with a brown 80 proof liquor, has no job or money, is a free spirit, is expecting to fist fight someone(s), has no intention of hooking up with any guys and is fully prepared to be dragged kicking and screaming out of said party by the police. Why did we invite Kesha again?  

Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh  

Oh right! She does that “Woah-oh oh oh” thing. It sincerely is captivating. Hopefully she blesses us with it one more time.

Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh  

And she did. So, I feel like I’ve learned a lot and nothing. I’m not sure what conclusion I can draw from these lyrics. It seems like a fairly unhealthy lifestyle Kesha is living. Maybe she has a detox day every week where she takes sea salt baths, drinks only fruit juice mixed with Fiber One, and eats leafy green salads with grilled chicken and a sprits of lemon zest and then goes to bed early after reading another thoughtful and inspiring and homo-erotic section of Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass”. 

Sure, why not? Then the other 6 days of the week she gets retard drunk on cheap booze and cock teases some roided up guidos until a cop drags her out of the club by her hair and throws her into the drunk tank to sleep it off while she pisses herself because she can’t control her bladder from a combination of infections because of her terrible hygiene and her kidneys are shot from filtering whisky 144 hours a week. Aggressive Thursday? 

Leave questions for Friday, please.