Analytical Dissection of Jason Derulo’s “Ridin’ Solo”

Jason Derulo and I have a lot in common. We are so alike in so many ways, so much so that I have been described as the “White Jason Derulo” or the “Jewish Jason Derulo” or if they are in a rush and not necessarily PC “Jason Jew-rulo”. I have also been mistaken for Jason Derulo on occasion, but to be honest it was pretty dark in that hotel room and it was Jason Derulo’s hotel room and I did sneak into that hotel room through the window and I was responding in a falsetto pitch “Yes, I’m Jason Derulo.”

Nevertheless, Jason Derulo and I share a bond.

I am 100% certain everyone has heard his first single “In My Head”. I can’t even imagine living in a cave would save you from hearing that song. I feel there is a high percentage chance people tracked you down in that cave, roofied your canteen water, held you down and forced you to listen to “In My Head”. The song is everywhere! It will find you! “In My Head” is where I learned about this unspoken kinship between myself and Jason. The long and short of the song, when a pretty girl walks past Jason Derulo at a club – he immediately starts imagining himself fucking said girl in his head. I DO THAT TOO! Isn’t that crazy!?!

Hearing “In My Head” for the first time was like reading Kierkegaard for the first time: other people think this way too! Thank the GD-ing Lord! I instantly felt a connection between Jason and I that we both see a random hot girl in a bar and we start undressing her in our heads and imagine that she is just attacking our wangs like it is the last boss of Contra – fast, hard and constant efficient movement. With that being said, I decided to seek out Jason Derulo’s second single “Ridin’ Solo”.

Much like “In My Head”, this new opus is oddly similar to how I live my life or want to. The lyrics are a poetic masterpiece and the video is a Thanksgiving feast of visual delights. Let’s take this journey together as I examine the lyrical wonder and the fascinating video for Jason Derulo’s “Ridin’ Solo”. The lyrics will be in bold and my keen observations will be in the normal font that looks like everything else so far minus the word bold.

But – before we start – there is a preface to the video that is not in the song. We see Jason sitting at his piano and he is repeating over and over “Love made me blind”. No! Noooo! Derulo is blind! NO!!!! Actually, I believe it is a metaphor. Metaphorically, love has made Jason blind. What love? Or for who?

Yowzahs! Jason Derulo is not blind because that chick is hot. But I guess the point is that she is a bitch. This hot bitch’s hotness blinded Jason from seeing what a bitch she is for him to have put up with this bitchiness for so long before they finally separated. For her sake, I hope he broke up with her because if she broke up with Jason Derulo then she has got to be kicking herself for that. She threw away a fucking lottery ticket! Unless she moved on and wooed the illegal Justin Bieber, not many artists are more popular right now than Mr. D-E-R-U-L-O. Either way, this hot chick in the picture is out of the picture in terms of Jason Derulo’s personal life. AM I RIGHT!?!

Onto the actual jam…

Yeeeeeyeeeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
I’m feeling like a star, you can’t stop my shine,
I’m loving cloud nine, my head’s in the sky,
I’m solo, I’m riding solo,
I’m riding solo, I’m ridin solo, sooloooo.

Isn’t his voice just magical!?!

Jason is in an upbeat mood to say the least. He is finally free of that bitch who was just draining his life force like a Midgar mako reactor in Final Fantasy VII and now he is excited to be on his own. This is Jason Derulo’s time, you scum sucking bitch! You soft skinned, but cancerous evil hearted vile succubus wench! You pretty faced jizzrag whore of… whew, I need to calm down. I just can’t stand to think she hurt Jason Derulo in anyway. He is a wonderful unique flame in this dark world. I mean seriously- how many young, black, soft singing, auto-tune using, dances like Michael Jackson, and writes pop-dance songs guys can you think of? Like 100 probably, but 100 out of 6 billion people on the planet is a pretty rare commodity statistically speaking.

Yeah, I’m feeling good tonight, finally doing me and it feels so right, oh,
Time to do the things I like,
going to the club everything’s alright, oh,

At first, I won’t lie, I thought he was talking about jerking off. He’s “riding solo”, he’s feeling good, he’s “finally doing me and it feels so right”… “oh”… It is an honest mistake. Maybe she was around his place all the time never giving him a moment’s peace to do some TCOB-ing of himself. I’m just saying it has to be done every so often… every day… every 4-6 hours … but I get he means he is talking about how she made him do all the stupid girly stuff she wanted to do and now he can do all the manly stuff he wants to do: going to a fancy club to get drunk and dance his ass off. And, “ridin’ solo” just sounds like a good euphemism for masturbating.

No one to answer to,
no one that’s gonna argue, no,
And since I got the hold off me,
I’m living life now that I’m free, yeah,

Until I read the lyrics, I though Derulo said “And since I got the ho off me”. Maybe I was hoping that is what he said. I think if Derulo had the chance to re-record this song he would see that “ho” fits ever better than “hold”. Also, it is just fun to refer to someone as a “ho”. It always puts a smile on your face. Try and call someone a “ho” without smiling. Actually, I dare you to do so. Go out, leave work, go find someone, whatever you have to do and call them a “ho”. Your face will light up with an ear to ear smile. Depending on who you singled out as a “ho”, you might want to start running or get ready for a fist fight because as pleasurable as it is to call someone a “ho”, people don’t take too kindly to being called a “ho”.

Telling me to get my shit together
now I got my shit together, yeah,
Now I made it through the weather
better days are gonna get better

Jason is a little pissed. The “ho” comment seems to fit even better now. Get your shit together, Jason Derulo! Oh I got my shit together! I’m writing pop songs that please the ear holes of billions, you cantankerous ho! I am a little worried about what is Jason’s underlying reason to go out to this club tonight. He is “riding solo”, which means he is going to a bar by himself to do what he wants to do: get drunk and dance. That doesn’t sound too positive. I mean Aretha Franklin sang about getting “respect” where as Derulo may be developing an angry post break-up drinking problem. Hey Jason, how are things? Great, man. I’ve been going out drinking by myself pretty consistently since the relationship ended. Uhhhhh, that’s not what I was hoping to hear. Maybe you should pick up a hobby or learn a new language or better yourself somehow instead of drinking in public. Nope, I got this. I’m drinking and dancing by myself is the only way I’m going to get through this.

I’m so sorry that it didn’t work out I’m moving on,
I’m so sorry but it’s over now,
the pain is goooone,

That pain is only temporarily “goooone” because Jason is self-medicating with the relief of alcoholic intoxication and dancing intoxication. We may need to help Jason set some long term goals. Either way, we can’t stop him now because Jason is going out to the club whether we want him too or not.

Here is Jason checking himself out in his three mirror set-up. He is not taking a quick peek at how he looks in his “threads” (that’s what the cool kids call “clothes”… in 2003), but he is performing some of his/Usher’s/Michael Jackson’s/You Got Served/Step Up 1,2,3-D dance moves in front of the mirror. This is eerily similar to how I get ready for a night out. If I’m getting the newspaper or going to an underground dance competition, I always practice some of my moves in front of a three section mirror. Let’s get a closer look of what Jason is wearing because it is…

AMAZING! Holy shit, I want that jacket! It has a ridge of spikes running along his arms like he is a modest member of the Legion of Doom. That is what I call “post-apocalyptic-chic”. I fucking love it. My life would be complete if I had that jacket and the confidence or delusion to wear it. What was thinking behind this jacket? I’m thinking I want a nice light fitting jacket that I can wear to the club and dance in and at the same time be perfectly ready if a street fight turf war breaks out at anytime.

Yeah, I’m looking good. Good and deadly. A forearm from me and I’ll turn your face into Swiss cheese, motherfucker. I feel like this only adds to my worry about Jason going drinking in the club by himself, now that he is clearly armed with a set of spikes running the length of both arms. Also, he better not trip or he’ll turn his flashy new jacket into an iron maiden.

I’m putting on my shades
to cover up my eyes,
I’m jumpin’ in my ride,
I’m heading out tonight,
I’m solo, I’m riding solo,
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.
I’m feeling like a star, you can’t stop my shine,
I’m loving cloud nine, my head’s in the sky.
I’m solo, I’m riding solo,
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.

I’m not exactly sure why he needs to “cover up my eyes”. Are his eyes red? Are they red from getting high, crying or filled with murderous rage wearing his street warfare jacket? As far as Jason’s ride goes…

He likes to keep it affordable with a Honda. It’s nice to see that Jason’s success hasn’t kept him from spending a reasonable amount of money on a sporty, but economic car. Honda’s have a great track record. Probably gets great gas mileage. Although, it is starting to sink in that when he said he is “riding solo” he literally meant it. Jason is driving himself to the club to go get angry drunk and dance. I would rather he have called a car service of some sort because it’s not like bars try and stop you from drunk driving home. Hopefully, Jason is planning on driving over to the club, leaving his car there, and taking a cab home. *fingers crossed*.

Now I’m feeling how I should,
never knew single could feel this good, oh,
Stop playing miss understood,
back in the game, who knew I would, oh,
So flex how I spread my wings, loving myself makes me wanna sing, oh,
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,

And loving himself he surely does. Just look at his dance move…

I’m the best. I’m the best.

I’m starting to get a little worried about our boy Jason Derulo. He is clearly drunk in the club on vodka and cranberry juice or champagne and cognac or whatever Derulo uses as his dancing fuel. He’s drunk, he’s dancing with his thumbs pointed to himself, he is wearing a spiked jacket out of The Warriors.

Telling me to get my shit together
now I got my shit together, yeah,
Now I made it through the weather
better days are gonna get better

Also, he is ruminating over this “getting his shit together”. Jason Derulo may have an OCD because of this break-up. Doesn’t he have any friends he can talk to? Did she take all their friends in the break-up? Because, whatever friends you do make at a dance club, drunk, dancing and wearing a dinner coat more applicable for the Thunderdome are not friends you want to keep.

I’m so sorry that it didn’t work out I’m moving on,
I’m so sorry but it’s over now,
the pain is goooone,

Just keep telling yourself that Jason.

At some point in the video, Jason finds himself at his destination: the club. There are a lot of beautiful young people at the club and everyone looks happy and no one looks disturbed about Jason’s not-so-concealed weapon jacket. But one thing is going on in the club, which is truly frightening…

THIS IS MY NIGHTMARE! Going to a club and seeing cute chicks with an iPad filling out their PlentyofFish.com profile. Open your damn eyes! There are men in front of you! These online dating websites seem harmless enough, but at the same time will cause the destruction of our society. I will fully admit that I have a dating profile set-up on PlentyofFish’s competitor’s site, OkCupid. In a world where I believe I am liberal and open minded and I voted twice for a black president and I eat falafel and I watch foreign films and I think gay marriage should be legal (if not mandatory in some cases, who do some of these gays think they are having all this fun without worrying about marriage or accidentally knocking some one night stand up), but I have judged people. JUDGED PEOPLE! Thousands upon thousands, I have judged. And they have judged me.

It doesn’t take much. Not only can you easily disregard someone for a shitty profile picture or just a “not perfect” profile picture, but you can completely dismiss them if they haven’t answered what their favorite music is perfectly to your liking. They like Broken Social Scene – good. They like Spoon – good. They like Marcy’s Playground – WHAT THE FUCK!?! Seriously!!!?!??!?!?!!? I mean sure, who doesn’t like “Sex and Candy”, but the rest of the Marcy’s Playground catalog!?! THAT’S INSANITY! No one should like them that much that they would put them on this definitive list of music they like forever and ever!

Even more, OkCupid, as well as these other sites, don’t even allow this said imaginary Marcy’s Playground loving person to have their own page without reminding this visiting judge there are other people on this site “similar” to this person, but maybe better for you because they are “less kinky” or “more spiritual”. First, how the fuck does OkCupid no who is more or less “kinky”? Is there some formula out there that can take me liking “Talladega Nights”, “The Wire” and “The Pixies” and figure out what level kinkiness I am? If so, I WANT TO SEE IT!

Even more even more, is that OkCupid is constantly reminding you about how many people are out there on this website. 30,000 singles are online right now! Why settle for a person who you have never met or talked to with even one minor discrepancy on their profile. She likes Atonement? That’s it, we would never get along and we could never agree or laugh or talk about anything because that will be the subtext to all of our interactions. I like Italian food too. Yeah, bitch, but you also liked Atonement and that movie sucked! I don’t care that James McAvoy died and you do and we just cannot coexist.

Hmmmm… back to the song.

I’m putting on my shades
to cover up my eyes,
I’m jumpin’ in my ride,
I’m heading out tonight,
I’m solo, I’m riding solo,
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.
I’m feeling like a star, you can’t stop my shine,
I’m loving cloud nine, my head’s in the sky.
I’m solo, I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo

Restating what we already know – Jason Derulo is high as a kite from smoking marijuana and hash, he’s been crying like a little girl whose Tamagotchi pet died, he’s wearing a weaponized coat, he is planning on drunk driving home from the club, and he is delusional in thinking this break-up is over.

yeah it’s like S… O… L… O…
S… O… L… O… S… O… L… O…
Living my life and got stress no more,

I’m putting on my shades
to cover up my eyes,
I’m jumpin’ in my ride,
I’m heading out tonight,
I’m solo, I’m riding solo,
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.
I’m feeling like a star, you can’t stop my shine,
I’m loving cloud nine, my head’s in the sky.
I’m solo, I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo.
I’m riding solo, I’m riding solo, sooloooo

My huge beef with this song is there is not one Han Solo reference. I can’t think of any song that is more perfect for at least a single one-off reference to the space cowboy extraordinaire, Han Solo. Who hasn’t gotten high while blubbering over your broken heart and taking a sharp weapon with them to a public place to get drunk by yourself? That was a typical Wednesday night in college for me. But not one Han Solo reference!?! It’s deplorable.

I really hope someone makes a spoof video/song of this. “Ridin’ with Han Solo” easily could be the chorus. All the lyrics could be altered to come from Han Solo’s hetero-lifemate/co-pilot Chewbacca’s perspective of ridin’ with Han Solo in the Millennium Falcon. Or it could be from one’s own perspective if one were another lucky member of the ship with Chewbacca, Luke, Leia, R2-D2, C3PO, Lando and, of course, Han Solo.

I’m riding solo, sooloooo,
I’m riding solo, sooloooo.

Get that man a set of spikes for his jacket and then we’re all “Ridin’ Solo”.

Oh man, I want this spoof video to happen so bad! And I still want a Road Warrior tuxedo jacket.

She Says, “I Like The Nightlife, Baby”

I am sunburnt.

For all of yous who were worried about my pale white skin – GOOD NEWS – there is no need to worry anymore. I am a very rosy red right now. I look like I just finished a marathon except I’m not sweating. A non-sweating marathon runner. A non-sweating marathon runner who is nowhere in-shape enough to run a marathon or even a part of a marathon. That’s what I look like. An out of shape, non-sweating, marathon runner. Or some guy who HAD pale skin who was outside no where near an umbrella’s shade for a lot longer than he was expecting yesterday and is now sunburnt.

Wearing a suit is coming in quite handy today. Besides my face being burnt, so are my arms and part of my legs. The way people react to my sunburnt face is one thing, but if they saw my arms then they would probably quarantine me for anti-burn medication experiments.

I am tired. I am tired usually, but being sun burnt makes me feel even more tired. I am fairly energy free right now. I’m yawning. I’m also really missing the welcoming feeling of a cool dark room with a bed in it for me to just wait out this sunburn in.

Today’s post will be about pop music. Random, miscellaneous, stream of consciousness about some good ole’ fashioned chicks with good voices singing pop music. Today’s femme fatale artists are Selena Gomez, Orianthi and, of-fucking-course, Lady Gaga.

Selena Gomez

Until Saturday, I could have picked Selena Gomez out of a line-up and that’s about it. I knew of the existence of Selena Gomez. I knew she was some fabulous jail bait for the past few years. She is 17 and turning 18 this summer. I could only guess that she was in something for Disney. I could not tell you with certainty any movie or TV show or anything that she has been in. I am not sure I have ever even heard her talk. For the most part, I just know she is young, cute and it was a big deal when the paparazzi got pictures of her in a bikini once.  

What happened Saturday? I was confronted with the fact that I am a Selena Gomez fan. Who fucking knew? The past few weeks on the radio, I keep hearing this song with this great declaration chorus – “You are the thunder and I am the lightning!” I had no idea who sang it. As much pop radio as I listen to for whatever reason nowadays, I never seem to get a better grasp of the names of the artists who are singing these ridiculous songs. But I’ve been digging the song, mostly because of the chorus – “You are the thunder and I am the lightning!”

I had absolutely no clue that Selena Gomez sang this song or even what the song was called. It is “Naturally” by Selena Gomez & The Scene. I don’t know who “The Scene” is at all. I don’t know why exactly, but I never would have guessed that a brunette sang this song. In my mind, it was a Cascada looking lady. I was really expecting a blonde. Also, the video for the most part is a bad rip off of The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army”. I would have made this video much better. I wouldn’t have ripped off The White Stripes. I would have ripped off “Fire” by Charlene – from the greatest movie ever The Last Dragon. Obviously, replace the “fire” with “thunder and lightning” and you have yourself a fucking VIDEO MUSIC AWARD 4 LIFE!

That chorus is perfect for my favorite over-the-top dramatic stage movements. “You are the thunder!” – That is a confident point right there. You don’t even have to point your finger, just a confident angular gesture with one or more fingers parallel to the ground. An outstretched arm with the fingers spread wide facing your target like you’re Magneto. Also for good measure you can add in a Shania Twain-esque rhythmic foot stomp. Oh I’m just making it perfectly obvious that you, yes you – the one I’m extended my arm to, are the thunder and I’m solidifying that point by stomping my foot along to this beat.

This is followed by the patented turn your hand inward into a fist and bringing it close to your chest – all dramatically – for “And I am the lightning!” It is a humbling moment for the both of us. You are the thunder and I am the lightning. It makes perfect fucking sense. This revelation that I am the lightning needs to be shown by myself capturing that knowledge with my hand and then bringing it close to my heart.

Feel free to compliment this classic dance movement with side-to-side head bobbing, hip shaking, foot stomping or flip of your hair. All this can be performed standing or sitting in your car while driving. If you are a straight male in his late 20’s with tattoos who spent much of his formative years at metal, hardcore and punk shows then I would suggest keeping your windows all the way rolled up and turn the air conditioning off just for the duration of this song. There is a conspiracy going around that when the air conditioning is on some of the music sounds actually leak out the vents and alert people of the outside world that you are listening to the girliest pop music and they should shame stare you.

Footnote: if you are stopped at a red light or all alone in your apartment with the shades pulled down, feel free to use both hands/arms ambidextrously. If you are using both arms and standing then you must run in place like you are a linebacker about to make a tackle. These are the laws of pop music; not my laws.

Orianthi

 

I have been meaning to write about “According to You” by Orianthi for a very long time. I had been worrying I was over saturating you all with the dissecting the lyrics of songs posts. So this won’t be a full run through of the lyrics, but a partial one. The song itself is a girl pop rocker similar to Kelly Clarkson’s “Since You’ve Been Gone” (which is the greatest song ever as we all know). The storyline in “According to You” is flat-out priceless!

Orianthi and “you” are going out. It seems like “you” and Orianthi have been going out for awhile too. Seems like “you” and Orianthi have not been getting along recently. It also seems like “you” have had some choice observations about Orianthi. Apparently, “you” said Orianthi was stupid, useless, she can’t do anything right, difficult, hard to please, and she has zero convictions. Then “you” can’t help “your”self and say Orianthi is a mess in a dress and not punctual. Sounds like there are problems in paradise, am I right?

Orianthi is sick of “you”. Orianthi’s solution is to get hit on perpetually by some other guy. More or less this song is Orianthi rationalizing cheating on “you” or dumping “you”. While “you” and Orianthi are in a fight, this new guy is telling Orianthi that she is the greatest, most interestingest, the bestest, prettiest girl in the world. This guy thinks Orianthi is beautiful, incredible, he can’t get her out of his head, she’s funny, irresistible and, the topper of toppers, Orianthi is everything he ever wanted.

What should “your” reaction be: what the eff, guy? Why don’t you stop hitting on my girlfriend? Of course, the new guy thinks you are incredible, irresistible, and he can’t get you out of his head – he just fucking met you. He hasn’t had the time to hear you belly ache about not having enough shoes or remember that time you got so drunk you threw up all over the back seat of my car? I’m sure the new guy would still think you are “everything he ever wanted” when that was going on. Asshole.

I’m not saying “you” isn’t an asshole as well. I don’t know “you”. “You” could be a total dickhead for all I know. But it just sounds like Orianthi is a little infatuated with what men like to call “new pussy”. At some point, a relationship stops being make-out sessions and steamy sex and turns into now we livin’ together. And in that world, the guy isn’t full of hyperbolic compliments and the gal becomes a nag. Why don’t you fix the garbage disposal? Why don’t you drive me to the mall? Why are you drunk at 2pm? Baseball is on! That’s why I’m drunk! Do you know how hard it is to watch baseball sober? It’s impossible. Also, it is 80 degrees out and I’m thirsty, so I’ve drank a 12 pack of beer. Do you want me to drink a 12 pack of Gatorade? Do you know how much sodium that would be? It would be unhealthy.

Lady Gaga

The ever amazing Lady Gaga is headlining Lollapalooza this year. I really want to go. There are an incredible amount of incredible bands playing this year and the Gaga is playing too. Dawgz had an ingenious idea that Lady Gaga should cover a Cars song, namely “Let’s Go”, at Lollapalooza. I have been twatting a variation of this sentiment everyday and will continue to.

The reason I think this is a brilliant idea is that it would fucking floor the hipster kids at Lollapalooza. The Cars are an excellent band from the 80’s with all the hit singles. If you’re listening to a song from the 80’s and you aren’t sure who sang it then there is a 75% chance The Cars sang it. And Lady Gaga is most definitely an 80’s creation. She sounds like Madonna, she sounds like Annie Lennox, she sounds and even looks like the 80’s.

The hipsters are going to be skeptical of Ms. Gaga. That’s what hipsters do – they’re cynical creatures. Cynical for the sake of being cynical. But Gaga is going to give them the dance party extravaganza that they know deep down they will love. But if she also extended a hipster olive branch and covered a rock song like “Let’s Go” she and the hipsters will mate for life!

And, seriously, what the fuck is Ric Ocasek up to that he couldn’t join Gaga on stage for this cover? I know that Ric still makes music and still has an INSANELY hot wife. He also does guest spots on the Colbert Report from time to time. So why not? Why not cover “Let’s Go” by The Cars? Why not have Ric Ocasek walk on stage during the second set of lyrics and blow all those stupid hipsters’ minds? Why the fuck not!?! Gaga did that duet with Elton John and that was cool, but Elton John is a duet whore. He’ll duet with anyone. I know I’ve dueted with Sir Elton at least twice and those are just the duets I remember. With all the coke we were doing Elton and I could have dueted 5 maybe even 6 times. A duet between Gaga and The Cars would be a billion times more unique.

So, I really would like this to happen. I’m not sure how to make it happen though. I am only one man, one man with a dream of Lady Gaga playing “Let’s Go” with Ric Ocasek at Lollapalooza. I will continue to post it on twitter. But if you all could share in this dream with me! Help me spread this message of fusing catchy 80’s synth rock and the GAGA! Petitions? Sure make a petition! Facebook pages? Start them! Please help me make this beautiful shining dream into a reality! We need to convince the Lady Gaga to do this.

If not for me, do it for the sake of the children. And helping out a sunburnt man.

I Want To Get A Tattoo Of Thomas Jefferson

I try to keep a level of transparency on this blog. I’m not really trying to maintain any level of “professionalism” here by pretending that I can truly compartmentalize writing this with my jokes and then the real everyday world. Currently my little Myspace mood is FURIOUS. I would say 90% of it has to do with this article http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts1253. Sure, there are things going on in my life causing me frustration (technology, work, Alice Eve’s cleavage), but right now Texas is the basis of my fury. If I had 6 problems, Texas would be 5 of them.

There is a lot to be angry about with these changes. Instead of being angry about all of them, which I most certainly am, I will just hone in on the one change that is ABSOLUTELY MOTHERFUCKING INSANE. And that would be:

Thomas Jefferson no longer included among writers influencing the nation’s intellectual origins. Jefferson, a deist who helped pioneer the legal theory of the separation of church and state, is not a model founder in the board’s judgment. Among the intellectual forerunners to be highlighted in Jefferson’s place: medieval Catholic philosopher St. Thomas Aquinas, Puritan theologian John Calvin and conservative British law scholar William Blackstone. Heavy emphasis is also to be placed on the founding fathers having been guided by strict Christian beliefs.

I do have a humorous topic of sorts to talk about. But if every once and awhile, I break into a rant about how THOMAS JEFFERSON IS THE MOTHERFUCKING FOUNDER OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN COUNTRY AND YOU INGRATES IN TEXAS ARE FUCKING TREASONOUS PIECES OF SHIT TO TRY AND PRETEND OTHERWISE then you will at least understand the context. I just want to forewarn you there may be, as in definitely will be, outbursts about how Thomas Acquinas HAD BEEN DEAD FOR FIVE HUNDRED YEARS before the Declaration of Independence was even written for the United States.

Pop quiz Texas: who wrote the Declaration of Independence? MOTHERFUCKING THOMAS JEFFERSON YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICKS! I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU TREASONOUS FUCKS! YOU HATE AMERICA! YOU HATE ALL THAT AMERICA STANDS FOR! YOU ARE DAMNING THE FUTURE OF AMERICA WITH WHAT YOU ARE DOING! I’m just giving you a little bit of a heads up.

In light of my HORRENDOUSLY foul mood, I think I should tread on an even lighter subject like shitty pop music. Over the weekend, I was hanging out with a friend and no it was not Dawgz. There is more in my life than Kristen Stewart, Dawgz, the Steelers and HATING THE 10 PEOPLE WHO VOTED TO PASS THIS EDUCATIONAL REFORM  IN TEXAS. I mean there isn’t much more in life that one needs than those things, but I do have other friends just in case you were worried. This friend and I were watching music videos, which is crazy – who knew you could still watch music videos on the television?

One music video was particularly memorable/interesting: Bon Jovi’s “Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore” featuring LeAnn Rimes.

I am from New Jersey. I am proud of being from New Jersey for many reasons. One recent reason is that my educational system is not trying to pretend that THE THIRD PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES DID NOT MATTER IN THE INTELLECTUAL CREATION OF THIS COUNTRY. Even with my love for New Jersey, I outright dislike Bon Jovi and pretty much all their music. At their very best, Bon Jovi has 3 or so songs that are fun to sing-a-long to when absolutely plastered at a bar. And when I’m plastered at a bar the list of things I find “fun” are very questionable when sober. I hold no critical praise for any of their music. Couple this with my dislike for popular “country” music like LeAnn Rimes.

Either way, if you like the song or don’t – you cannot deny it is wildly disconcerting and/or plain creepy. First and foremost, let’s setup the “givens”. The song is a duet between Jon Bon Jovi and LeAnn Rimes and the title of this song is “Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore”. One can assume a lot of things. Just as one can assume without hearing the Bruce Springsteen song “Prove It All Night” it is about a man and a woman “getting it on” – scientific term. Jon and LeAnn will be doing “something” until they are not “strangers” anymore. What could be an activity that a man and a woman who are alone together can do until they are not strangers anymore? Play Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2? Watch reruns of Arrested Development on IFC? Maybe name all the Presidents of the United States in chronological order conspicuously not skipping the THIRD PRESIDENT OF THE FUCKING UNITED STATES NAMED THOMAS JEFFERSON?

Or they could be fucking. That’s my guess. Or is that too crass? Maybe I’m just imagining… oh wait a minute what’s this? There are lyrics to this stupid song? Do you think that the lyrics may help?

It might be hard to be lovers
But it’s harder to be friends
Baby, pull down the covers
It’s time you let me in
Maybe light a couple candles
I’ll just go ahead and lock the door
If you just talk to me baby
Till we ain’t strangers anymore

Huh? That’s exactly like I said. So Jon and LeAnn are going to go into a bedroom. Lock the door. Light candles. Get into bed together. “Talk”. Until they are not strangers anymore. This is at the point in the song (the beginning of the damn song), I would like to mention that Jon Bon Jovi is a married man. Jon got married on April 29^th, 1989. Jon is still happily married. There is a crazy twist; Jon is not married to LeAnn Rimes. What was LeAnn Rimes doing on April 29^th, 1989? Probably eating paste because SHE WAS SEVEN.

The majority of the lyrics to the song are like the above posted. It is a lot about Jon and LeAnn hanging out in bed together “reconnecting”, if you know what I’m saying. It would be really easy to just write a bad song with extra marital affair connotations, but they went a step farther and made a video with even more extra martial affair connotations. I would like to submit evidence “A”:

Here is a picture of LeAnn Rimes and Jon Bon Jovi doing, what I call, the “twilight”. It isn’t “making out” per-say, but even more creepy it is just them rubbing foreheads, noses and chins. This sequence is replicated several times throughout the video. Very intimate close-up shots of Jon and LeAnn lightly grinding their faces on each other, but leaving just enough separation between their lips to breathily whisper the arduously terrible lyrics that Jon and/or some random music producer wrote.

The main thrust of the video, outside of their facial thrusting, is Jon and LeAnn wandering the lonely streets of New York City’s borough Manhattan. Why Manhattan? Who the fuck knows? Jon is from central New Jersey, so I guess that is close enough to Manhattan. I would venture to guess Jon really has a bigger following in southern New Jersey and he spends a great deal of time in Philadelphia, but whatever. Meanwhile, LeAnn is from Mississippi, which you may remember as being such an overly patriotic state that it SECEDED FROM THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA and there had to be a WAR fought to bring it back as well as TEXAS which also SECEDED because it “loves” this country so much.

They’re not just walking the streets of Manhattan, but also lying around on beds on the streets of Manhattan. This is both dumb and dumb. The first “dumb” is that it is just dumb looking having them sitting on these beds randomly on an intersection in New York City. Secondly, it is “dumb” because it is highly dangerous. There are cars everywhere whizzing around in Manhattan. Don’t lie around on the streets on a bed or not in any city let alone the most populated and busiest traffic city in the country. This country in particular is the United States who actually uses currency with THOMAS JEFFERSON’S FUCKING FACE ON IT.  

Here is LeAnn on her bed in the street. Wildly unsafe as mentioned. It gets worse though: no shoes and I would say she is not properly dressed for the weather. The shoes idea is a no brainer. You need to wear shoes when walking around New York City. I’m not talking about the parks, but the damn streets require shoes. Even if you are precariously laying on an even precariously placed bed in the middle of a street in Manhattan you should be wearing shoes. Jon is wearing shoes LeAnn, so take a tip, Hester Prynne, and wear some shoes on the city streets of New York City. Also, they are in winter coats the rest of the video and those silk sheets and that thin sweater will give her little to no warmth. Oh wait, what will give her warmth? The adulterous hands of Jon Bon Jovi.

I think this is the point in the post that I mention LeAnn Rimes is a well-known “home wrecker” – scientific term. LeAnn was married. While married LeAnn started getting a little frisky and cheated on her husband with some guy she made a movie with that I have never heard of – the guy and/or the movie. That guy was also married at the time. And he got a divorce as well. I’m not saying that Jon Bon Jovi is having an affair with LeAnn Rimes, but I am saying that Jon Bon Jovi’s wife should be real creeped out that her husband chose a woman who is pretty well known for recently breaking up an 8 year marriage with some guy who she worked on a project with.

Jon looks like a man who is tortured not by a fictitious failing marriage in this video, but a man who is currently getting way too involved in what was supposed to be a few flings. Just one singer and one a lot younger singer having some fun without their significant others around. The type of stuff that LeAnn’s costar thought they were getting into until LeAnn got all clingy and made everything dramatic. To me Jon’s expression denotes, “I can’t believe I fucked this broad and now she is talking about our ‘relationship’, ‘our future’, ‘our feelings’. Damn it. I should have gotten Shakira or some other chick who doesn’t even speak English. Why did I try to appeal to the South? Those people are stupid. They want to stop teaching about Thomas Jefferson and instead want to teach about obscure British property lawyers from the 18^th century whose beliefs were denounced by Alexander Hamilton, Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson and later who died before Thomas Jefferson was even in the preparation stages of writing the Declaration of Independence which is the document and that this country is founded on. Damn me and my wandering penis.”

Shit. She is right behind me on this bed. Why are we on this stupid bed in the middle of the street? Oh shit, she is pretty much naked. If I tilt my head just right I think I can see right down her satin nightie she is wearing. LeAnn gets the freakiest in the sack too. Oh man, I can’t believe I’m going to do this again. But she wants it.

Uh, no honey. This is just work. I’m just working late. Where am I? I’m on a bed. Yeah, LeAnn is here. Yeah, I’m playing with her hair. I’m also putting my lips like a nanocentimillimeter from her youthful lips. Yep. We’re pretty much fake doing it. Yep. Oh no, I didn’t come up with the idea. I’m just a slave to my craft. Ok, I’ve got to go. LeAnn is wearing very little clothes and she gets cold easily with the wind going right up her slip and everything. I have been put in charge of warming her young body with my hands and breath. So, I’ll see you later. Love ya, honey.

The song and video continue with Jon and LeAnn getting closer to fucking on the bed. And the lyrics culminate with this bit:

Tell me who you think you see
When you look into my eyes
Lets put our two hearts back together
And we’ll leave the broken pieces on the floor
Make love with me baby
Till we ain’t strangers anymore

It is all metaphors about “talking” in bed or “holding each other” in bed. That is until the final stanza where they just “make love”. I mean at this point they are lying in bed, candles, door locked, holding, staring – I doubt any significant other would think that at that point they weren’t just banging each other anyway. I would imagine a spouse wouldn’t be cool or wouldn’t believe you if you said something along these lines, “Me? I did nothing of the sort. Yes, we were in a bedroom. Yes, the door was locked. Yes, it was just the two of us. Yes, there were candles lit – you know how much I love candles. It just seems to be a shame not to use the candles if they are already there. Yes, we were in the bed and under the covers. And yes, we did hold each other all night while staring longingly into each others’ eyes while whispering about our feelings for each other. But! We did not make love!…. oh you heard that? The part where I said to her ‘make love with me baby till we ain’t strangers anymore? Well that’s interesting isn’t it? I’ll pack my things.”

We’re not strangers anymore
We’re not strangers
We’re not strangers anymore

Yeah! They fucked! Yeah! They balled each others’ brains out! Yeah cheating on your spouse! Yeah, this song being perfectly acceptable for channels like PAX and middle American family values or something!

I have not seen a music video on television in forever and I get subjected to this and that D’Angelo song where he is naked. I’m never watching music videos again. And fuck Texas. Even Austin – stupid hipsters! Go drink your lattes and talk Malcolm Gladwell in HELL!

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.

Before there was Kristen Stewart – someone else wanted IT bad for like 15 glorious minutes

Editor’s note: I completely wasn’t expecting to write about this in the slightest.

Well, ask and you shall not receive. Or ask and you shall receive… NOT! Like I was in Wayne’s World 1 and/or 2. Although, I would prefer the original because it does not glorify Aerosmith. If you were wondering, Aerosmith sucks. That’s if you were wondering.

They suck and so does everyone in that band. Steven Tyler sucks. Steven’s sucking is more of a generic blanket statement about nearly everything he does in life. He did not suck at helping make Liv Tyler. He did good on that. He does not suck at looking like a pre-op transsexual. The type of pre-op who has begun taking the hormone drugs and already trying to live their life like they have had the gender changing surgery, but in fact have not. He does that very well. Excellently even. Everything else though, he sucks. Joe Perry sucks. Joe Perry sucks and so does his patented “I’m walking around and playing the guitar at the same time” signature move. That signature move sucks. Joe sucks thinking that would be a good signature move to have and he sucks for doing it for the past 40 years. The rest of the nameless and faceless band members in that stupid band suck. I won’t even look them up on Wikipedia to individually say they suck – suck. Aerosmith sucks.

I know what you’re thinking, “Dream On” is a good song. Is it? Is it really? Ok, it’s good, but is that what we’re doing here? Are we justifying the existence of a shit band for 30 some odd years, will be inducted into the shit-tastic Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, their filthily rich lives, being verbally blown and winning awards for years, and so on and so on and “Walk this Way” sucks and so on and so on because “Dream On” sounds like a good B-side from any actual credible band from the 70’s? Is that what we’re doing here? Because if it is then we need to redistribute some wealth to some other artists who also have one song from the 70’s that was good and make them seem like credible musicians for four decades.  

Fuck. Ok, ok. I’m lying. I’m not lying about them sucking though. They suck. But Aerosmith did one amazing thing for humanity. It wasn’t “Dream On”. We all could live without “Dream On”. Damn it. I wasn’t planning on writing about this, but it is happening. It is happening today. I’m shaking my head as I write this because I hate giving this much credit to Aerosmith. I HATE IT! I’m not sure how much creative input they had or any at all. I do believe that if per say Jonas Saulk didn’t exist that some other insanely great human being would have cured polio eventually. But come on! Give credit where credit is due and Jonas should get some motherlovin’ credit. The dude cured polio! I don’t have polio because of J-Sizzle! So, I have to give credit to Aerosmith in this one/two/three regard(s).

I’m just going to bring up the 800 pound elephant in the room –

Aerosmith helped make me a man. And not just me, but a lot of men.

Aerosmith played a very large role in the sexual development of men of my age range. I would say men who are currently anywhere from 25 – 35 owe a big debt to Aerosmith to help them on any sexual maturity they reached in their life, especially in the 90’s. And more importantly, I believe men of this age range owe a bigger debt to Aerosmith for providing them with an arsenal, like fictional smoke and mirrors Russian Cold War stock piles of missiles, of spank bank masturbation material. I am, of course, referring to the music videos for “Cryin’”, “Crazy”, and “Amazing”.

Oh sweet Jesus! The Holy Trifecta! I just thought of this and looked it up. It didn’t take a genius to figure this out, but Marty Callner directed all three music videos. So I guess he deserves a ton of credit. I don’t know who Marty Callner is, but he is up there with Aerosmith at teaching men about hot crazy teens or crazy hot teens or simply girls who want it. Marty Callner and Aerosmith, first and foremost, gave us Alicia Silverstone. Eventually, they gave us Alicia Silverstone and Liv Tyler.

All three of these songs suck by the way. There are terrible and completely indistinguishable from each other. And so are the videos. The videos are nearly identical in most regards except one has Liv Tyler in it. That’s different, but they all have Alicia Silverstone in them. Thank God for that, amirite? But the songs suck. They’re awful. They are awful power ballads and critically they were hated when they came out. But then good ole’ Marty Callner comes along and puts together a trilogy of music videos that rivals and trilogy put to film – Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Matrix, Godfather, Shaft, hopefully one day they make a Speed 3 and the world will rejoice.

Ok, let’s do this fantastic video by fantastic video – up first Cryin’.

Alicia Silverstone wants IT.

Holy fuck! She wants it! Oh the mighty of Thor’s hammer, Alicia was like 17 when she made all these videos. Incredible. You have to love Hollywood. Alicia was cast at 15 (!) to play a very sexual role in the movie The Crush. At the same time, 43 year old Marty Callner watches said 15 year old and is like A. She wants it and B. I’m going to make me a mental note that I want to put this girl in some videos… legal ones. That same year, Aerosmith decided to release what quite possibly is the most craptastic album of that year in Get a Grip. With those three unstoppable forces of underage Alicia Silverstone wanting it amazingness, Aerosmith’s unbelievably bad long play album and Marty Callner being a non-practicing pedophile – they came together* as a perfect storm to create these music videos.

In “Cryin”, Alicia Silverstone wants it. Alicia is a rebellious, sexually frustrated and curious young girl. She begins the video by watching a couple make out at movie theater. Man, she wants it. She wants it so bad she can’t concentrate on the movie and is irritated at life. Naturally, Alicia gets into a car with some guy who looks so much like Stephen Dorff that it probably is Mr. Dorff. They drive to the middle of nowhere on a dirt road which makes sense. Stephen turns off the car and sits there. Alicia in an explosion of wanting it just jumps out of her seat and mounts him. And in one of the most anachronistic decisions in history – Stephen Dorff denies 17 year old wanting it Alicia Silverstone! Incomprehensible! It’s like this video takes place in some bizarro world! Come on, Stephen, even if you’re gay you can’t deny that much want being thrown at you like that. It’s just a ridiculous decision.

Alicia punches Dorff, rightfully so, and then steals his car, rightfully so. Remember that ladies. If for whatever crazy and I do mean insane crazy reason, you are wanting that bad, you are looking that hot, and you are with a guy and you try to jump him like that and he rejects you – sucker punch and stolen car are perfectly acceptable. This is followed by Alicia getting a hmmm… how do I say this… a “tit tattoo”? I didn’t choose the location. Don’t shoot the messenger on this. She gets an ugly rose tattoo on your breast (better?). Bad decision. Leave those beauties alone, Alicia.

After the shady tattoo job, Alicia drives around all night wanting it. She fantasizes about what should have happened between her and Mr. Dorff immediately following her mount job earlier. The car breaks down in the morning. She gets changed out in the open on the side of the road and ditches the car – typical woman, couldn’t call AAA? Then she proceeds to walk the highway wanting it. Apparently, along this dirt road highway there is a piercing shop (really?) and Alicia gets her sleek and tender navel pierced.

The next scene is priceless. Now, new and improved Alicia, with belly button ring, has found herself at a diner. She is sitting at the bar at the diner. She orders pancakes, I’m guessing. She notices some guy at the end of the bar and he notices her and BOOM Oh Christ does she want it! I’m not the only one seeing this, right? I’m not the one eyed man in the land of the blind, right? And right when this guy is about to make the best decision  of his life to give Alicia what she wants… HE STEALS HER FUCKING PURSE! WHAT!?! WHY!?! Why man, why? A chase sequence ensues which ends with “Karate Jones” Alicia Silverstone flying sidekicking the guy to death! Didn’t expect that did you?

And the conclusion is even better. In the final act of this epic masterpiece, Alicia Silverstone calls Stephen Dorff and seemingly the police to some bridge over a highway where she plans on committing suicide. Alicia with her heals on the edge of the bridge and her back facing the traffic flying by hundreds of feet below, the police show up and so does Mr. Dorff. Ineffectually, Stephen tries to coax Alicia off the bridge. I have a couple things to say about this: 1. what unprofessionalism by the police officers involved, who lets the ex-boyfriend of a suicidal teen girl be the negotiator and 2. She wants it and no one seems to be respecting that. It’s like a God damn Twilight Zone episode where these people especially the men are not acting the way they should around a hot chick who wants it that badly.

So, Dorff attempts to grab Alicia and she jumps! But she is attached to a bungee cord. And she gives Dorff the finger and he smiles because it is one big “gotcha”. That’s how the video ends. Of course, a second later Stephen could pull out a box cutter severing her bungee cord and dropping her ass into the concrete and 70mph cars below. Either way, what the hell is this video about? I don’t know, but it is one of the reasons why Alicia Silverstone was a common theme in my dreams from 1993 until Britney Spears’ “Hit me baby one more time” appeared on television for the first time.

Amazing

Yeah, she wants it. Alicia Silverstone wants it.

Ok, this video is in some sense a sequel to “Cryin”. It begins with footage from “Cryin”. It turns out that “Cryin” was not some alternate universe documentary, but it was a “music video” – who knew!?! A hapless loser sitting in his parent’s basement who looks remarkably like Jeremy London, so much so I will say it is Jeremy London. Clearly, the other guy was Stephen Dorff. This looks a lot like London, but I’m not 100% sold. Anyway, this hapless loser is incredible at computers. Fucking wildly amazing with technology. He rivals those elementary school kids from The Sandlot who manufactured a series of mechanical wonders in robotics all in one afternoon to retrieve one lost Babe Ruth signed baseball. Those robots all failed, but seriously none of that was in their design- there problems lay more or less in the execution. Thankfully, the greatest athlete in child history Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez aka “The Jet” was there to save the day – all a story for another day.

Jeremy London and his computer wizardry somehow with commercially sold electronic products of 1993/1994 scans himself into the music video! That shit happens, right? Following that he scans his trusty Match Box motorcycle into the video as well. With the added help of a Nintendo Power Glove and a Nintendo Virtual Boy headset, Jeremy London enters the fucking music video! Now with Jeremy’s new hair cut and motorcycle tooling around the desert, Alicia Silverstone appears. And she wants it.

Well… she does at first, but then Jeremy ceases her want by offering her a motorcycle helmet. Thankfully, Jeremy is God of this digital world. He deletes now frigid Alicia and replaces her with a new Alicia who… wants it again. This Alicia is cool with motorcycle riding. AND motorcycle sexin’ apparently. So finally, at the 3:20 something mark of the second music video someone finally starts giving what Alicia is wanting. No one gave her shit in the five minute plus “Cryin”.

Oh yeah. They are getting it on. It’s getting kind of graphic. And then, here is Marty Callner’s genius – metaphorical premature ejaculation. In the real world, Jeremy London is getting so aroused playing around with his Nintendo products that he knocks over his soda which then shoots soda out of the straw hole and all over the keyboard killing the mood. Jeremy has to stop with Alicia and clean off his keyboard – we’ve all been there, am I right? Once dry, Jeremy restarts the program with Alicia and him on the motorcycle.

In part deux of motorcycle sex, Alicia wants it so bad she can’t wait until Jeremy reaches the deserted desert sex rendezvous (I spelled that correctly on the first try, by the way) location. She discards her helmet and then so does Jeremy. I do not support this. It might seem cool to ride on a motorcycle, even in a fictional digital reality, without a motorcycle helmet on, but safety first people! It sends a bad message to the kids who are watching this video and probably shouldn’t be because every second they watch it they lose any innocence they have in life and now they are just like the rest of us chained to sexual frustration at all times.

They’re doing it on the bike. Ok, ok ok, it’s getting real graphic and real not safe. Pull over, Jeremy! Just slow the bike down and pull the fuck over! Well… I guess he didn’t need to. With more Marty Callner metaphorical brilliance, Jeremy London needs a digital cigarette because he just fucked Alicia Silverstone on a moving motorcycle without stopping. Better man than I – I’ll give him that. I would have definitely pulled over.

In a completely odd turn of events, the bike breaks down and the two proceed to try and hitchhike. Seriously, didn’t Jeremy London break all scientific walls and alter the universal fabric of this music video dimension and download himself into it, put a bike in it, put Alicia Silverstone in it, put a different Alicia Silverstone it, came in his pants, came in her I guess, and now he is hitching a ride? What? Is this all confusing to you? Because it gets better. Jeremy has tons of trouble trying to hitch a ride, so he gives up. Alicia with her wondrous legs and complete disregard for being subtle with her want – she flags down an airplane.

Alicia Silverstone wants it so bad a fucking Red Baron-eque propeller plane appears and picks them up. Again, I don’t condone riding on the wing of the airplane and neither should you, but that is where Alicia and Jeremy decide to ride. In another twist, Jeremy reimagines the computer world by outfitting them both in skydiving gear and snowboards. This really begs the question why they needed to hitchhike at all. Why didn’t he just warp them to an airplane instead of waiting around until Alicia’s want power would summon an airplane? Questions, so many questions. Now they are currently, sky “surfing” I guess or sky “boarding” or whatever. I feel like this one giant waste of time. If I was Jeremy London, Lord knows I’ve said that too many times in my life, I would have just warped us to a hotel room or a bubble bath or anything that continued this whole game plan of me having sex with Alicia Silverstone and probably anything, but skydiving.

Then the video dream is over for Jeremy. He decides to call it a day and leave the digital world. He prints out a picture of Alicia for the memories of his one and only true lov… one and… wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute! Jeremy London is a digital world whore! He has been living out similar fantasies with Cindy Crawford and some others that I didn’t catch and don’t feel like rewinding. Jeez. Talk about a twist, right? I thought they were an immortal love, right? Soulmates, right? And that’s got to be the end… NO! What! What the fuck!?! Alicia Silverstone is actually creating this world! Alicia Silverstone is the master of Virtual Reality technology of the early to mid 90’s! WTF times infinity! Oh man, I feel Marty Callner was either too high when he made this or I’m not high enough to understand it. My brain fucking hurts right now. Oh wait… there is one more music video.

Crazy

This is going to be good. Plaid skirt, white stockings, director’s cut. If you are at all disturbed in the slightest by Aerosmith and Marty Callner really pushing 17 year old girls down your throat* (I’m not… not in the slightest), then it is going to get a lot more disturbing to you when one of them is now their daughter! dunh DunH DUNH! Liv Tyler is Alicia Silverstone’s wanting it tag team championship partner. This golden moment in history begins with Alicia Silverstone as seemingly a Catholic school girl ditching school. And so is Liv Tyler! And the first order of business is they take their shirts off. Yeah, this is going to be good.

Seemingly, the two drive all night and empty their gas tank*. They pull over for a refill and we notice they’ve also changed clothes. The gas station has a little mini-mart which is convenient. There is a creepy old guy who is very excited to see these girls pull up. Seriously, why not? It has been perfectly acceptable for 10 minutes plus of music video time for us to drool over Alicia Silverstone, so why not another 5 plus Liv Tyler? Alicia heads inside and Liv pumps the gas and does she ever. In painted on black leather pants, Liv Tyler puts on a show for Creepers McGee outside. Meanwhile, inside the stoner who is working the cash register at the mini-mart is not only perfectly comfortable with Alicia Silverstone shoplifting, but he implores her to do it. And then Liv walks in and he waves her on to do it too. See this is why you don’t hire stoners to handle any amount of responsibility.

The girls steal all types of shit. No big ticket items though. They want it and they feel a little guilty about not paying so they conjure up a payment for the guy. There is a photo booth where, judging by the stoner’s reaction, the girls get nekkid and fool around in the most religious acceptable lesbian style. They hand over the evidence to the stoner. In the end it all works out for the stoner – as it always does for stoners, DAMN STONERS!

Just by sheer luck, the girls drive past a strip club that is having an amateur night. Being the whores competitive female Liv is, she decides to enter. First, Alicia and Liv get whored up changed in front of each other which makes perfect sense. Liv dresses up in bell bottoms and a midriff revealing shirt much like her father wears. Alicia is much more elaborate and dresses in a full suit with matching pocket square and fedora. Was she just caring that around in the trunk of her car?

At the strip club, Liv jumps up on stage. Weirdly, her routine is a beat by beat impression of Steven Tyler, Daddy dearest, and his onstage concert routine. Including spitting*. I’m not sure how I feel about this. She’s hot, but it is creep city, state, and country. And then it gets shockingly a lot less creepy and a lot more shut your fucking mouth and just watch because things are about to get magical.

Liv, on all fours, crawls to Alicia. She lightly caresses Alicia’s face with her fingertips. Alicia throws off her hat and allows her blonde flowing locks to… well… flow. Liv still crawling around shows the crowd her money maker and this is just too much for Alicia. She starts undoing her tie which we all know is the international sign for “shit’s getting real”. Then a chair appears. Liv sits on the chair. Liv takes her shirt off. She’s wearing a bra. This isn’t the not around anymore Spice channel. It’s MTV. Then Liv shows she knows how to work the pole* and wins the strip contest. I’m glad she won. I thought she deserved it. Really put quite the effort in.

To celebrate Liv’s winning of the strip club amateur stripping contest, it is back to their hotel room for them to play around on the bed in their underwear. Get into it. There’s no one around watching. No one at all minus Marty Callner and Aerosmith meaning Liv’s Dad. Just be natural. Let yourselves explore… damn it – jump cut to the morning after. Liv in a sun dress and Alicia in daisy dukes and a bikini top take the car out for another drive. They are apparently out in the country and near farms. Sure, why not?

A nearly nude and buff tractor driver in his 20’s just so happens to be steering a tractor right by the road that the two wildly sexed up Alicia and Liv drive by on. This guy is no idiot. Liv barely gestures for him to join them on whatever their next adventure is and he immediately jumps off the tractor and into the back of their car with no regard for his job, the crops, the tractor being still on, et cetera. Smart move, guy. Smart move. Where do they drive to? A nearby pond/lake? I’ll say lake.

The girls ask him to jump in the lake. He says no. The girls take their clothes off and jump in. Not a second goes by before he jumps in after them. Remember, he is no idiot. They’re having fun in the lake and they’re all touching and teasing. But lake time is over and they head into the car. Oh no! He’s picking his nose! Dude, seriously? I don’t care if your nose is itching like the worst motherfucker you let it itch. Don’t touch your nose! But, he screws up and is an idiot and picks it and Liv sees.

This is when I think Marty Callner realized he spent all their money on cocaine and underage prostitutes. All of a sudden, the tractor spells “Crazy” and it fades to black. What? What kind of ending is that? What happened to the nose picker? I feel like they must’ve ditched him. Or they fucked him stupid and then ditched him. There is an even weirder epilogue when they return from the faded black. They pass Jeremy London on the side of the road with all his skydiving gear and they recognize him and keep driving. They laugh. It makes no fucking sense.

So, that is the gift Aerosmith and Marty Callner gave to boys/men of the world: Alicia Silverstone. If I could have bought stock in the disposable soiled crumpled tissue industry before these music videos came out then I would be a billionaire. So yeah, nearly 4000 words about 3 music videos featuring Alicia Silverstone and 1 with Liv Tyler that guys jerked to. Romantic.