I know that as bloggers, our inspiration is often tied to such fickle topics as current events, pop culture and the number of things we ate today that we probably shouldn’t have. Six pieces of shortbread. So it’s easy to get caught up in the now and lose track of what’s to come.
But while we’ve been quipping back and forth about Obama, Lady GaGa and baked goods, we’ve let something go on far too long.
Of course, I speak of…Ke$ha.
I think the dollar sign is silent.-Gyrating background mess in Katy Perry’s video for ‘I Kissed A Girl’.
-Faceless voice of an old 80s hook in a Flo.Rida song.
-Host family for The Simple Life. She vomited in Paris Hilton’s closet.
-Musical feature in Teen Cribs, My Super Sweet 16 and The Hills.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. I can only assume her introduction to the musical scene represents a knee-jerk reaction to retain former tween consumers who found songs like Hollaback Girl too challenging because they couldn’t spell banana:
This shit. Is bananas. B – A – N – N – N – A – Whoo!
Supporting fact: On her official Twitter account, she misspells rhythm. Twice. Just sayin’.
In the first lyric of her first single…she name drops P.Diddy. Not Kanye. Not Kid Cudi. P. FUCKING. DIDDY. She chose someone who has hitched his fame-wagon to the Danity Kane whore-trolley. But I guess you can’t blame her. Rhyming something with ‘city’ must have been…like…totally hard. We’re just lucky she didn’t remember ‘titty’. Or ‘shitty’.
But it’s not about all that. It’s not that she says she’ll only sleep with men who look like Mick Jagger when clearly she’ll sleep with anyone to get her song on the radio. It’s not that reviewing her other songs via YouTube gave me scabies of the ear and soul. It’s not that I actually feel like I’m getting hepatitis whenever I see anything to do with her…It’s that they’re selling her as a legitimate musical artist.
Did you know she’s going to be in the triumphant return of Lilith Fair in 2010? Yes – her line about brushing her teeth with Jack Daniels will fit RIGHT in at Unshaven Armpit Fest.
The only comfort I find in this situation where I know her upcoming album will literally rape my hear-holes on a daily basis for the bulk of 2010, is that it will be SO DAMN HILARIOUS to hold this phase of her life over her head if she ends up pulling an Alanis on album number two and turns out to be an indie lesbian who makes her own tampons and sings about little-known insects.
Speaking of which, it’s been a while since I’ve made Alanis regret her choices: