This is what passes for hit music these days

For those of you not in the know, a group called The Black Eyed Peas has been making the rounds of late and getting a lot of A-list coverage. Their lead songstress, a very attractive, nubile, young lady named Fergie, apparently pulled a lot of notice, and had fans clamoring for a solo album.

So she made one.

It's called "The Dutchess" (no relation) and it released September 19th. However, the first single off the album "London Bridge" has been hitting the airwaves since July. I heard it once about a month or so ago, and I disliked it immensely. The tempo of the singing is awkward compared to the background music, so although I like the beat, I can't dance to it.

Seeing a poster yesterday announcing the release of the album prompted me to seek out the lyrics and find out exactly what Fergie was trying to tell me, and the rest of the world, about her London Bridge.

This is what she got paid millions of $$$ to record and perform:

[Paulo] Fergie Ferg, what's up, baby?

When I come to the club, step aside.
Part the seas, don’t be havin' me in the line.
V.I.P., ‘cause you know I gotta shine.
I’m Fergie Ferg, and me love you long time

All my girls get down on the floor,
Back to back, drop it down real low.
I’m such a lady, but I’m dancing like a ho,
‘Cause you know I don’t give a fuck, so here we go!

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

Now As the drinks start pouring,
And my speech start slurring,
Everybody start looking real good.

Grey Goose got your girl feeling loose.
Now I’m wishin’ that I didn’t wear these shoes. (I hate heels)
It’s like every time I get up on the dew,
Paparazzi put my business in the news.

And I’m like get up out my face, (oh shit)
'fore I turn around and spray your ass with mace. (oh shit)
My lips make you wanna have a taste. (oh shit)
You got that? I got the bass.

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

Aah, da, da, da, da, do, do, do, do
Me like a bullet type, you know they comin' right
Fergie love 'em long time
My girls support right?
Aah, da, da, da, da, do, do, do, do
Me like a bullet type you know they comin' right
Fergie love 'em long time
My girls support right?

When I come to the club, step aside.
Pop the seats, don’t be hatin' me in the line.
V.I.P., ‘cause you know I gotta shine.
I’m Fergie Ferg, me love you long time

All my girls get down on the floor,
Back to back, drop it down real low.
I’m such a lady, but I’m dancing like a ho, ‘
'Cause you know I don’t give a fuck, so here we go!

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

How come every time you come around,
My London, London bridge, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, wanna go down like,
London, London, London, we goin’ down like…

Fuck you, bitches.
Oh shit (oh shit)
Oh shit (oh shit)
Oh shit (oh shit)

Are you ready for this?
Oh shit (oh shit)
Ohhhhh
It’s me, Fergie
The Pimp!

Remember GOOD dance songs like "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" and "Tainted Love" and "Flashdance"? Songs that inspired you to "get up, get up and get busy, c'mon and move that body" but didn't require you to race to the stereo to turn the music off before your parents caught an earful of the lyrics. Songs that didn't make you feel like you had to "dance like a ho" because you didn't "give a fuck". Songs that didn't add to the overall attitude problem of the average teenager. Songs that you would be okay hearing your 8-year old sister sing in public.

Don't get me wrong...I listen to a lot of music with questionable lyrics, and I occasionally dance like I was raised by ferrets (what with all the twisting and turning and moving in unexpected and inexplicable ways and whatnot), but I am (unfortunately) an adult. I am old enough not to be swayed to emulate the sirens of pop culture. I am old enough to say, "Whoa! Hold up! Leave a little something to the imagination!" or "You know, shooting cops really isn't the best way to express your outrage at being oppressed by The Man." I am also old enough to be in a room by myself and turn red at hearing some of the words in my favorite dance tunes.

For me - now - it's truly about the music, the beat, the rhythm...it's not about trying to find an identity to try on, to find something to stand behind, to find my place in an overwhelmingly large, and excruciatingly small, world - anymore. We have really failed the up-and-coming generations. We have robbed our children of their childhood by flooding them with images and concepts they haven't yet learned how to interpret, and then blame them for responding (or responding "inappropriately") to. We are doing a serious injustice to them, and to ourselves, because these are the children who will one day, very soon, be running the country and the world.

And, as cute as she is, I do not want the likes of "Fergie Ferg" in the Oval Office.

So what's the answer? I guess it all falls back on the people it always should...the family. And included in that definition of family is the extended biological, as well as community personage. It has become a hackneyed cliché at this point, but the underlying message is still very true...it does take a village to raise a child. Adults have a responsibility to the miniature versions running around...not just to see that they are fed and clothed and have roof over their heads, but to insure that they are safe, educated in academics and life, made to feel loved and important, and most of all, that they are taught to think for themselves (my mother would be so proud to hear me say that).

I don't have any children myself, but that doesn't let me off the hook. I have two nephews, a goddaughter and her younger brother and sister. I owe it to each one of them to teach by example, to talk through issues that might make me uncomfortable to discuss, but are important for them to know and understand, and to let them know that they can come to me not only with good news, but with any problems as well.

And even though they are grown up, I still have a duty to each of my younger siblings to share with them my experiences and do my best to help them make good choices along the way, and also be a shoulder to lean on when needed. And my family owes me and them (sounds odd, but I believe it is grammatically correct) the same thing. As I often say, if we all do a little, we can accomplish a lot.

So my mission is clear. I plan to spend the rest of this week educating my winglings on the perils of watching any shows on VH-1 or videos on YouTube, MTV or MTV2, the danger of having bags of Sour Jelly Bellys in the house, and how NOT to dress like a Pussycat Doll (or date someone who does).

(And if anyone can teach me how to keep my hands off a hot 20-year old until he turns 21, it's your responsibility to come forward and school me!)

A New Level of Cool Has Just Entered My Life

One of the great things about knowing people of varying ages from 30 years younger to 30 years older is the diversity of the information you receive. My latest discovery comes in the form of an adorable little 20-year old boy I call "kitten" (a term of deep, unblemished affection, I assure you). Well, I've actually discovered two things through him...1) 20 year old boys are much cuter, more intelligent and far more effortlessly sexy now than they were when I was that age and 2) www.pandora.com.

Pandora is, quite simply, one of the greatest ideas of the new millennium. It brings Internet radio into a whole new age. Relying on an extensive database of music and brilliant musicologists, Pandora is the brainchild resulting from over 6 years of research called The Music Genome Project.

Instead of just turning you over to a particular genre of sound, Pandora analyzes a song or artist you choose as a starting point, comparing 100's of attributes to thousands of other songs or artists and making suggestions based on that analysis. Going farther, it allows you to give the "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" to any song they play (two "downs" to any one artists and they will be completely deleted from your preferences). You can refine the suggestions by adding additional songs or artists. All this creates a "radio station". You can create an unlimited amount of radio stations, allowing you to indulge your tastes in vanilla ice cream, watermelon bubble gum, Sour Jelly Bellys or hash brownies. It is also a fantastic way to discover artists and songs you've never heard of before without any commitment or investment.

I will warn you in advance that it is another deliciously guilty pleasure that will keep you from doing what you're supposed to be doing. I was misusing my wireless connection in class last night to tune in to trance electronica instead of learning about distributable net income. Good thing I brought my digital recorder and taped the class.

At the moment, Pandora is a free, commercial-free service. Ultimately, you will be able to choose the free version with advertising added or pay for an ad-free version. Unlike VH-1's program choices, this is actually something worth checking out.

As for The Kitten...well, his 21st birthday is coming up on November 21st. After that I can legally take him to a bar for a drink and think my bad thoughts over Kamikaze shots instead of hot chocolate. me-OW!

If I were not a well-known aficionado of bad TV, I would be embarrassed to admit this...

***Much to my deep dismay (and annoyance), I'm having another one of those Blogger incidents wherein my pictures will not upload. Hopefully the problem will be resolved shortly and the pix that NEED to accompany this piece will be added forthwith. In the meantime, I'm afraid you will just have to use a little imagination...or head over to VH1.com. I apologize for the inconvenience...even if Blogger doesn't.***


At the casual suggestion of one of my many little sisters, I tuned into "Flavor of Love 2" last week.

Talk about a train wreck.

Chugging along in the footsteps of ABC's "The Bachelor", "Flavor of Love 2" has a houseful of women (who apparently can't find men in the real world to date) competing for the attention and affections of one man.

Three problems with this:

(a) The bachelor is the once somewhat-known rapper, Flavor Flav (originally a member of Public Enemy), who is most assuredly NOT someone I would go to the time and trouble of leaving behind the comforts of home to go and attempt to make fall for me;

(2) Unlike any other "reality dating" show, Our Man Flav gets to go through another group of chicks because the woman he chose first time around was more into her subsequent notoriety than into Flav himself (oh sh*t! Really? I can't imagine why!); and

(D) These apparently desperate women are required (probably just as well) to be code named. I don't know if the names are suggested and they pick from a list or whether they are assigned names or if they make them up themselves, but here is a sampling: Krazy, Eyez, Buckwild, Buckeey, Spunkeey, H-Town, Payshyntz, Toastee and Wire. (For myself, I wouldn't get too close to anyone named "Wire". I'd take "Krazy" any day of the week over that!)

Going by the VH1 "Character Bios", there seems to be a theme of bi-sexuality and incontinence underlying the group dynamic. Several of them have or want to hook up with a girl, and way too many of them have peed or pooped on themselves in public.

Hmmm...maybe that's why they can't get a man in the real world.

Aside from all these women gettin' all up in Flav's grill (and Flav taking mad advantage of it), I couldn't figure out exactly what was going on or how contestants were being picked to stay or go. I did get the exciting episode, though, where super-duper psycho ghetto bitch, New York, from Season 1 (boo hiss for being associated with my state) was asked by Flav to return to the mansion and help him decide who would be the next shorty riding the rails out of town.

That went over like a lead balloon. New York has serious psychological issues revolving around rage, jealousy, low self-esteem and inflated sense of importance (yes, it is possible to have both). Her favorite thing to do is antagonize people to the point of half a step before a catfight erupts (I believe last season a few actually broke out). This, of course, is done when it's "just the girls"...when Flav shows up, it's a different story. When confronted by the chicks in front of The Flav Man about the fight narrowly avoided just 5 minutes beforehand, the bitch actually burst into tears when Flav asked her why she would say (insert whatever she said here). "I'm just here for you, Flav! I'm trying to be a good friend and help you because you asked me to!" And promptly ran outside.

Of course she was followed and her tears were died away with affectionate kisses. Bleech!

But out of all the madness, my personal favorite decision was when Flav decided that as much as he liked her, Nibblz could never be his woman because she has a webcam in her home and pole dances on the Internet. Flav has kids, you know, and he can't have them be exposed to that sort of thing.

WHAAAAAAAA????

I'm sorry, are you not the man who is on his SECOND batch of booty-giving females, making out with them, hanging out in the hot tub naked with them, touching them in places you shouldn't touch someone you don't know very well ON NATIONAL TELEVISION? This crap is being TAPED, dawg! If Nibblz took down her camera today, it's likely no one would ever see footage of her pole dancing days ever again! Can you spell "hypocrite"?

(Although on this show, it would probably be spelled more like "hippokreeyt".)

"Flavor of Love 2" airs Sunday nights at 10 PM on VH1...home of (used-to-be and never-were) celeb(s)reality.

Check it.

I lied. Question #2 re: The Pussycat Dolls.

As the very clever and ever-amusing Marcheline points out, there are so many PCDs so that when you're done with one you can throw it out and still have some left. But that begs the question, does that make them more like Kleenex or Trojans???

The Amazing Race Race Race

(Actually I just found out that it's "Survivor", not "The Amazing Race", but I like the title, so you'll have to bear with my poetic license.)

Just as I am not easily embarrassed, I'm not easily offended.

This crap offends me.

For those of you who have not heard about this, the upcoming "Survivor: Cook Islands" will not arbitrarily delineate who goes into what tribe, but will instead be divided along racial lines: African-American, Asian-American, Latino and Caucasian (apparently neither Latinos nor Caucasians are "-American").

The best line I have heard describing this debacle is "Survivor: Skin City".

I like a little bit of controversy. I think shaking people up and making them THINK once in a while is a good thing. Americans have become far too complacent, self-centered and whiny. If you exist in a world where breaking a fingernail is the thing that keeps you up at night, you have more problems than you realize. Whether we "want" to or not, we all have a duty to be aware of and aid our fellow man. This doesn't necessarily mean joining the Peace Corps. It could be mentoring a child or reading books to the blind or providing pro bono services to people who otherwise couldn't afford them. If we all did a little bit, it would turn into a lot. And we'd all be better off for it.

What we do NOT need is a return to the days before Brown v. The Board of Education. It is my firm belief that human beings are innately predisposed to find external ways to assert superiority to one another. (See e.g., Dr. Seuss' The Sneetches.) But it is also my firm belief that because we are sentient beings with the capacity to reason, we can overcome those prejudices. Am I deluding myself into believing that Americans are a true melting pot of cultures who work hand-in-hand without discord? No way. We've got a long, long way to go before we get anywhere close to that. However, whipping out The Race Card does nothing but a serious disservice to everyone. This "Survivor" essentially forces its viewers (of which I will not be one) to align themselves along racial lines, and not necessarily in the ways one would immediately think of. Just as I can see certain groups screaming, "White Power!", I can just as vividly hear the chorus of "Of course the Blacks are going to win, they were bred to be athletes" or "You know how those Mexicans are, they're all sneaky" or "The Asians can't win...there's no math or science involved."

Unlike the world premiere of "Roots", this show will do nothing but tear out fledgling roots of camaraderie and increase insularity. It is an insult to our intelligence, and a dramatic step back in the progress of race relations. I applaud the sponsors withdrawing their advertising, although I do wish they had the balls to admit the reason they were doing it instead of claiming one had nothing to do with the other. I condemn Mark Burnett for being a callous attention hog who is only interested in stirring up controversy to raise viewership, consequences be damned. I think CBS should fire him, make public apology for ever even considering the format, and donate a sh*tload of money to some 501(c)(3) dedicated to increasing racial tolerance. But that won't happen because that would mean they'd have to admit they were WRONG. And that's a fate worse than dusting off segregation and putting it on TV for fun and profit.

This is especially contumelious in this year of the 5th anniversary of September 11th, when race WAS forgotten for a time and we banded together for the first time as Americans instead of
"-Americans." I shudder to think what Mark Burnett or his ilk come up with for the 10th anniversary. I fervently hope that we will be a nation completely intolerant of such primitive attempts to "entertain", but if this show opens up new rifts, we may never have the chance to advance that far.

Thanks, Mark. We'll be sure to put you down in the history books as the Brit who reintegrated segregation back into America.

OH NO HE DIDN'T!!!

The gauntlet has been thrown down, the challenge made, and I would be supremely remiss in my duties not to respond.

First of all, CTK, Don't Hassle The Hoff!!! People in Germany LOVE that guy! He must be doing something right! (Of course, the French LOVE Jerry Lewis, so maybe the European opinion is somewhat skewed)

Second, you have now forced me to offer a veritable plethora of videos that easily would beat out The Beastie Boys for Best Video Ever.

(*throat clearing*)

#1 - Toma



#2 - Bootylicious



#3 - Run It



#4 - Ms. New Booty



#5 - Amish Paradise



Which just goes to show that good video must involve either half naked chicks moving their bodies in ways nature never intended or "Weird Al" Yankovic.

You better recognize!

Crikey!

Steve Irwin, aka The Crocodile Hunter, was brought down today by a stingray. This makes, I believe, only the 18th recorded case of stingray death in the world. I wasn't a Croc Hunt follower, but the guy seemed pretty okay and very knowledgeable about zoology. It totally sucks that he died that way...but I guess you could look at it in the sense of at least he was doing what he loved when it happened.



One of my most cherished memories is my first dive after I got certified. I was in the Cayman Islands, and we were out in the middle of the ocean checking out the brightly colored fish and being environmentally concious of the coral, when I turn my head to the left and saw a large, lone eagle ray gliding through the water, looking as though it was flying. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

It's kind of sobering to think that I was also in Stingray City feeding the very animals that caused Irwin's death. But you can't let those freak accidents keep you from new and unusual experiences. I spend too much time already letting Life get in the way of Living. If we take away one thing today from Steve, if it's your time to go, make sure you can say aloha with a sincere "Je ne regrette rien"!

Another dream bites the dust

Greatly intrigued by Variant E's suggestion to make a career out of following and firing Mark Myslinski, I started dusting off my résumé in anticipation of sending it to the good folks in the legal department of JPMorgan (me being a lawyer, and all). I just need that secret segue into the hallowed halls so that I could maintain that all important element of surprise. I had visions of strolling into the Creative Department, maybe with a Blow Pop in my mouth a la Kojak, and walking past his office, looking in, smiling, then strolling around some more. He would be appropriately freaked out by the fact that the suit I was wearing cost more than a month's salary for him. He would come flying out of his office and ask me what I was doing there. "Oh, hi! Mike, isn't it? Wait, that's not right...Mark, that's right, Mark," I would reply causally, after taking a few extra tugs on the Blow Pop. "I'm the lead attorney on the XYZ account. I came to see if our prospectus was ready. Have your people finished it yet? It's a big account, you know. If that document isn't finished on time and perfect, I'm going to have to have a very serious talk with your supervisor. See that it's on my desk in an hour. TTFN!"

This scene would be repeated over and over at every investment bank in NYC until he had a nervous breakdown.

Then I remembered these silly little NY State Penal Laws §§ 120.45, 120.50, 120.55, 120.60, which create the crime of "stalking", of which I could conceivably be guilty and for which I conceivably be sentenced to seven years in jail.

As much enjoyment as I could get out of this emotional torture, Mark Myslinski isn't worth seven years in jail.

So, there goes that fantasy. *deep sigh* Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.