reasons to be a controversial human being.


A Critical Analysis of Katy Perry’s “Pearl”

Recently the good folks over at EMI Music decided that we as a nation have just not had enough of Katy Perry’s Cotton Candy music explosion. So much so that they have re-released her album with 5 new tracks and one song that is simply a deathclub gay nightmare remix of all of her songs smashed together in some kind of tinny audio day-terror. The CD, entitled “The Ultimate Confection”, yes you’re reading that right, takes us on a yet another amazing musical journey with the woman who has given us Whipped Cream Bras and Pyrotechnic nipples.

But the real gem from the woman who has gifted us with the shoephone, is the track “Pearl”. So without further ado I provide you with a critical analysis of the Katy Perry track, “Pearl”. Let’s begin, shall we?


She is a pyramid
But with him she’s just a grain of sand
This love’s too strong like mice and men
Squeezing out the life that should be let in

She was a hurricane-cane-cane-cane
But now she’s just a gust of wind
She used to set the sails of a thousand ships
Was a force to be reckoned with

She could be a statue of liberty
She could be a Joan of Arc
But he’s scared of the light that’s inside of her
So he keeps her in the dark

Oh, she used to be a pearl…Ohh
Yeah, she used to rule the world…Ohh
Can’t believe she’s become a shell of herself
‘Cause she used to be a pearl

She was unstoppable
Moved fast just like an avalanche
But now she’s stuck deep in cement
Wishing that they’d never ever met

She could be a statue of liberty
She could be a Joan of Arc
But he’s scared of the light that’s inside of her
So he keeps her in the dark

Oh, she used to be a pearl…Ohh
Yeah, she used to rule the world…Ohh
Can’t believe she’s become a shell of herself
‘Cause she used to be a –

Do you know that there’s a way out,
there’s a way out
there’s a way out
there’s a way out

You don’t have to be held down,
be held down
be held down
be held down

‘Cause I used to be a shell
Yeah, I let him rule my world
my world, ohh, yeah

But I woke up and grew strong
And I can still go on
And no one can take my pearl

You don’t have to be shell, No
You’re the one that rules your world, ohh
You are strong and you’ll learn
that you can still go on

And you’ll always be a pearl

She is unstoppable

Oh boy.
Katy here has invented a fake persona. Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last in terms of pop music.  But I’m willing to bet that at no point in the song “this girl” that’s she’s talking about is going to end up being her. Oh wait.

Let’s just track this with a list of things notkatyperrybutitreallyisgirl is:
– A statue of liberty (not the statue. just a statue)
– A hurricane cane cane cane
– A gust of wind
– A pyramid
– A thousand ships
– Joan of Ark

And most obviously a pearl. But all this vague and terrible metaphor aside, the real offense is the siege that Katy has brought down upon modern literature.
Might I direct you to the line:
“This love’s too strong like mice and men
Squeezing out the life that should be let in”

I truly hope this kind of literary call-out trend can continue. I can’t wait for the next JLo track that comes out that contains lines like:
“Shakin dat ass like you know it’s good,
Like Mrs. Dalloway inviting folks to her hood”


“Let me feel yo’ body, I know that it’s right,
That durrty ho Jane Eyre found out those attic secrets at night”

“Pearl” represents the worst kind of inspirational pop music. It’s the type of horror that occurs when a record label decides their artist needs to be more radio friendly. Maybe a PSA on Bullying, maybe the song “Pearl”. Katy Perry continually walks this line with inspirational tracks like “Firework”, encouraging us to be ourselves no matter what, while at the same time,her other songs like “Peacock” which I’m pretty sure is about getting raped by a magic black candy cane, tell us to slut it out big time.

It’s a shame there is no music video, but I can leave you with the link to the song.


A Farewell to the Painter Of Light

It has taken a worldwide tragedy to bring me back to the blog. Earlier this week we lost the artistic cottage-painting equivalent of Nicholas Sparks.

At 54 years of age, ‘painter’, Thomas Kinkade has passed away. And the art community will forever be changed.

Thomas Kinkade dedicated his life to bringing to life glossy cottages with mossy sidewalks and thatched roofs. He spent years crafting works of art of glossy cottages and mossy sidewalks sometimes covered in snow, sometimes adorned with fall leaves. He blazed the trail in the medium of sparkly cottages with mossy sidewalks in various states of being. His art was always on the tip of tongues at suburban housewarming parties or your grandmother’s wake.

He also gave us the masterpiece entitled “NASCAR Thunder”.

You may have noticed in recent years the Thomas Kinkade stores in your local mall shuttering their doors in shame as the market for prints of sparkly cottages with mossy sidewalks and thatched roofs has dropped due to the economy and also idiocy, but Thomas Kinkade did not let that get him down.

He continued to bring us Frida Kahloesque works like:

“Christmas Lodge”

“Friendship Cottage”

“Weathervane Hutch”

And literally hundreds of others. But Kinkade was not only a master of one visual form of media. His foray into cinema proved incredibly fruitful.
The aptly titled “The Christmas Cottage” was a motion picture vaguely based on his life and rise as a painter. He produced the film and was instrumental in hiring Supernatural Actor Jared Padalecki to play himself.

This is Thomas Kinkade:

And this is Jared Padalecki:

Your move, reality.

Thomas Kinkade you will be missed. The mantles of our Elderly Aunts will forever be left empty in your honor. But we can it least take solace is “The Christmas Cottage”, a truly Christian family tale about your meteoric rise to art superstardom.

On This Day in History: June 13th

i·ro·ny1    /ˈaɪrəni, ˈaɪər-/ [ahy-ruh-nee, ahy-er-]
a. a technique of indicating, as through character or plot development, an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually or ostensibly stated.

On this day in history, June 13, 1995, a little scorned lady named Alanis taught us the meaning, or lackthereof, of the word ironic on her album, Jagged Little Pill. She railed against affable Full House actors, lamented about rain on her wedding day and gave all those teenage girls the anti-dude canadaian nutso album that they’ve been looking for.

So here’s to you Alanis. May your great work live on in equally angsty pop-friendly artists like Christina Perri.

And in tribute to you, Canadian Wonder, I’ll post the greatest thing you’ve ever done: Cover the black eyed peas.

This Week in Music Nightmares: Jennifer Love Hewitt

The original JLo.
She speaks to the dead, works at a Happy Ending Massage to feed her family, dates Jamie Kennedy, knows what you did last summer and most famously puts on her makeup in music class which leads to a verbal smackdown courtesy of Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act 2.

Despite her long career of mediocrity and relativley harmless media soundbytes, Jennifer Love Hewitt’s legacy lies in the gift that keeps on giving: her music career.

Would you be surprised to know that she has released 4 albums? 4.

My favorite? The aptly titled “Let’s Go Bang”.
Now our beloved Jlove had not yet turned 18 and certainly hadn’t begun her illustrious career of starring in Enrique Iglesias videos.

So one would have to say that a song called “Let’s go Bang” seems a bit pornographic. Let’s go to the lyrics.

“Let’s Go Bang”
Unspoken words
You know just what to do
The rhythm moves like
Second nature to you
So primitive, it fits you like a glove
Instinctive as to make love
Let’s go

Before the groove hits
The move you want it to
And Uncle Funk wants
It over tonight
So, just dance along to
Wherever they take you tonight
You just bang it all up and out
Bang it all on time

Let the beat, let the beat be your lover
Free your mind, let the beat take you over
Throw all inhibitions up into the wind

Let’s go bang
I wanna go bang
Let’s go bang
I wanna go bang
Let’s go bang
I wanna go bang
Let’s go bang
I wanna…..

Well, if you move to the groove
The way I do
There’s nothing else in the world
That compares
And if you dance to release the part of you
That keeps telling you to be free
Let it take you there

Let the beat, let the beat be your lover
Free your mind, let the beat take you over
A groove premonition your feet can’t ignore


Oh in the air tonight
There’s breathing in the wind
Oh in the air tonight
The beat is; it’s going on
It’s going on, it goes:
Let the beat, let the beat be your lover
Free your mind, let the beat take you over
A groove premonition your feet can’t ignore


Yep. That’s disgusting.
Sorry Jlove, anyway you swing it, even if you were too young to know the implications of the lyrics, someone on your team should have said something. I mean you’re saying things like “bang it all the time” and “so primitive, it fits you like a glove”, like a glove, you mean a condom? Let’s go bang.

But nothing could possibly be worse than her smash hit (in her family’s eyes at least) Barenaked.

And it’s bad. Like offensivley bad. It’s as if someone too all the worst parts of Mandy Moore, Jlo and vintage Baby One More Time Britney Spears and rolled it down a big hill of awful. It’s so offensive in its genericness. I would sooner take any Rebecca Black “Friday” over this, because there is no pleasure, ironic or otherwise, to be had from experiencing “Barenaked”.

To Jennifer:
I know that you have heaving breasts. I know that you just want to find a man and settle down. I know that you love talking about sticking jewels onto your vagina. I know that you whisper and occaisionally speak to ghosts on television, but please, for the sake of this nation, enough of the music.

At least Amy Jo Johnson, the Pink Ranger, had enough sense to stop this nonsense years ago:

I mean talk about some knockoff Lillith Fair nonsense….

Music Nightmare Copycats – Round 1

The new game in music used to be the sample. Artists like the Black Eyed Peas are still doing it more than ever, but the rest of the music industry seems to have moved on. This series will explore the newest trend in music: the steal. I’m sorry music industry, that in the 90s, we were stealing music from Napster, but how do you explain your own artists straight up ripping each other off and never saying a word about it.

And I’m not talking about the genius of Girl Talk’s sampling mania.
Without further ado:

Round 1: Jennifer Lopez (Jenny from the Block, JlO) versus Edward Maya

And in the Red Corner: On the Floor


I mean aside from every lyric being either “dance the night away” or “on the floor”, the song could definitley be more offensive to the auditory senses than it actually is.
That being said, the song truly does personify the last, jarring death rattles of a 40-year-old aging celebrity who is desperately trying to compete with girls half her age who were mere blips on the human life radar when JLo peaked in the early 2000s.

I can just imagine Jlo walking into the studio wondering if Pitbull was a person or a really talented dog ( I mean with autotune these days you never know).

And in the Blue Corner: Stereo Love

Who knew that an entire song could be built around a kickin’ accordian solo? The funny thing about “Stereo Love” is that it’s taken so long to achieve radioplay in the states. This song has been making its way around Europe for years and Edward Maya has been in a bitter battle for, guess what? Plagarism. He is being sued by a man that claims he ripped said kickin’ according solo from one of his songs from back in the day. Edward Maya says hell yeah I did, and it’s my right. We’re all artists aren’t we? Stereo Love is just a small bit of techno nonsense. Without the accordian solo at the beginning, its nothing more than a jarbled mess of synth and autotune. It’s frankly so forgettable, that Edward Maya has recorded it with two different women and no one seemed to notice or care.

K.O.: Edward Maya
I’m so sorry Jenny from the Block, but I have to give this one to Stereo Love. Despite both songs being complete clubrat tomfoolery, Edward Maya at least did it first. And it doesn’t seem as desperate as your attempts at last-ditch hip-hop relevancy. Just be glad those American Idol checks are clearing because your music career is no longer something that you can take to the bank, or back to the block.

The Top 10 Unanswered Questions of 2010

Last year I brought you, loyal readers, the top 10 music videos of 2009. And today, on this most blessed of New Year’s Day, I bring you the Top 10 Unanswered Questions of 2010. This isn’t so much a countdown list as it is a despereate plea for help to these questions that I have been struggling with for the past year. Help me dearest readers, help me.

10. What is a Nicki Minaj?

I just don’t get it. Is she some kind of rainbow-streaked hair robot soldier? Is she a rapper? Does she feel human emotions or is she just a really animated Care Bear. Also I thought she was Lady Gaga. Different I guess, right? MTV recently aired a special on the Nicki Minaj and after watching a good 20 minutes of it I don’t exactly still know what it is. She was picking out clothes, she rode in a limosine, she put those stupid colored streaks in her hair and then talked a lot about “the game” and how hard it was for a woman to play it. Is she talking about Rummy? Uno? I could look to her music videos but that’s not really giving anyone a whole lot information:

So she’s lost in the jungle, but she still has a pink lambourgini and green hair. This doesn’t help. This doesn’t help at all.

Also, its good to know that Lance Bass and Whitney Port were finally able, after years of extensive research and expiditions, able to capture the Nicki Minaj on film:

9. Did anyone ever call Katy Perry back on her shoe phone?

I’ve brought up Katy Perry’s idiotic Proactiv commercial in the past, but it still mystifies me with its idiocy. Why does she answer the shoe phone? Who is on the other line? Does she know that its not a real phone?

This is a real shoe phone:

I just feel that as a nation we need to be worried that we are celebrating a woman who, most recently, got sham married in India because she believes in chakras or whatever, but also celebrating a woman whose breasts are so large and magnificent that they most literally erupt in flames:

8. If you had to listen to only Nickleback or only Train for an entire week, which would you choose?

I think the real question here is, do you want your pants around your feet or drops of jupiter in your hair? Having had many, many heated discussions on the matter, I find it hard to believe that this is even a debate, but in this nation there exists a vast and diverse listening population: Some who would prefer the “hard rocking anthems” of Nickelback, and others the “smooth melodies” of Train.

Let’s go to the tape:

Arguement 1: Nickelback

Rebuttle: Train

….and the debate rages on…..

7. Is that girl from the Cheetah Girls really a prostitute or was that just for the music video?

As a refresher, Kiely Williams, a former Cheetah Girl, decided to make a music video about how much she loves to get blackout drunk and have unprotected sex with dreadlocked gentlemen.

Well, according to the teaser trailer to her new song, yes, she really is a prostitute. And she drinks like a fish:

Somebody needs to call her manager to make sure she’s not stuffed in a stall in the men’s bathroom at a Denny’s in Southern California.

6. What was the best thing you read in 2010?

I read a lot of amazing books in 2010. And I would love to suggest that all of you go out and pick up Shannen Doherty’s book, “Badass”. In it, she’ll tell you how much she admires women like Amelia Earhart and Soujerner Truth, true “badasses” in her opinion. She also includes her thoughts about how great of an actress that she is as well as her published poetry from when she was in second grade. Dear readers, I like you too much to expose you to this:

She is the actress of our generation.

Instead I would suggest you read Tom Rachman’s “The Imperfectionists”. “The Imperfectionists” is a brilliantly written novel about a struggling newspaper in Rome. The book is compelling, interestingly structured and frankly, really thrilling. I’ll link to amazon so no one has to struggle to not buy this immediately after reading.

You’re welcome.

5. Can Miley Cyrus ever be tamed?

No. No, she can’t.

4. What was the best music of 2010?

God where to start.

David Ford – Hurricane

The Cops – Call Me Anytime

Laura Marling – What He Wrote

Neon Trees – Animal

3. Was the Tourist an actual movie or just an expensive visitor’s guide to Venice, Italy?

It’s not. It’s just a long series of boat shots, boat chases and Angelina Jolie only wearing the color cream.
Fun movie fact: Angelina Jolie is the only woman to speak in the film because the director felt that Angelina Jolie is all the woman that any woman needs.

2. Is Willow Smith old enough to touch money?

No. Nor is she old enough to:

— Have haters
— Be rolling up in a black car to school
— Be rolling up in anything
— Turning her swag on
— Have ladies
— Pulling up and subsequently whipping it real hard

1. Who is SALT?

No clue. I’ve seen it twice now. She kicks so much ass. And it truly, truly is the question that’s been plaguing me the entire year. And will probably plague me until the sequel.

All I know is that Evelyn Salt can kill people with handcuffs, steal clothes exactly her size from strangers and make rockets out of household cleaners on the fly, without her shoes on.

Who is she man? Who is she?

See you all in 2011. Unless of course SALT continues to take us out one by one….

Reasons to Wish for the Plague

Everyone should have to work one year of customer service. No questions, no complaints. At least one year of serving, hosting, seating, selling tickets, making sandwiches, scooping ice cream and generally facilitating the needs of the public at large.

The world would be a much happier place.

There is a worldwide perception regarding the rudeness of New Yorkers. These kind and gentle tourists come to the Big Apple and find the most unimaginably rude and obnoxious locals completely unwilling to help them. These kind and gentle tourists then return to their hometowns (Iowa?) and tell their friends at PTA meetings how rude everyone was in Times Square.

News Flash: I dare you to find native New Yorkers running around Times Square. When people come to New York to visit, they are immediately on the defensive. They assume that everyone is out to get them, screw them, overcharge them and underserve them so they treat us customer service employees accordingly. And it’s wrong. And not until yesterday, after my third 14 hour solid day of customer service in a row, did it finally get to me.

At the King Tut Discovery Times Square Box Office a woman called me a “piece of shit”.

This certainly isn’t the worst that I’ve been called. Certainly she wasn’t the most angry patron I’ve dealt with. But something about my fatigue, the holidays rushes and just general stress, it made me really sad. It made me depressed, and it really hurt me. I can’t think of a time that I would ever call a complete stranger (traffic road rage aside), someone that has been trying to help me, a “piece of shit”. It was just so venomous. I couldn’t stand it.

This whole situation got me thinking about my past customer service horrors. Ushering at Fela! On Broadway has given me a whole new perspective on racism in this country. As a mostly African and African-American crowd, I’ve been told I was a racist again and again for simply asking people to not take photos or remove their coats from ledges. One woman called me the “white devil” and said I was trying to bring her down. I’ve had people ignore me even as I stand in front of them and speak. I’ve told people to not speak on the phone during the performances and they’ve made additional calls all while looking at me with a ” I Dare You” sort of look.

I don’t have a grand point, I don’t have an epic conclusion here, I just never really thought about the awful way in which we treat each other. So if I have a grand statement here, its to tip your waiters, tip your ushers and to treat people the way you would want to be treated at your place of employment, or as a human being in general. Otherwise we live in a pathetic world and we should just sink New York City and start over like I’ve always wanted to.