On flakes, Fergie, and faith

It snowed again. It was only an inch and a half. But it was real snow. And it's still out there. I looked on weather.com to see how things were going in good old Maryland, and it's in the 60s this week. So maybe the weather is making me grumpy. But I'm pretty sure not even in New Zealand on a crystal beach could I abide the new Fergie song. Non sequitur? Whatever.

I had some trouble with the Black Eyed Peas signing on what was obviously not much more than a pair of tits. I had a bigger problem when they released a song containing the line, "my lovely lady lumps." I blamed Fergie. Now I'm sure. She is in fact incarnated evil in the form of bouncy fleshy merchandising. WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN:

"How come every time you come around, my London, London bridge wanna go down?"

IT DOESN'T. MAKE. ANY. SENSE. It's a children's rhyme morphed into some bizarre meaningless sexual allusion. I mean, I went there with Beyonce when she called it 'jelly.' I even went there with Ciara when she called it a 'milkshake.' But a giant iconic piece of architecture? Which part of you, Fergie, is like a bridge? What does it mean for that to collapse? Just because you gyrate and bite your lip at the camera does not mean that you can turn any combination of words into a sexual reference. AGHHH. But I'm getting worked up at the wrong person. She's clearly just a pair of tits. Some jackass in a suit wrote this song. In about five minutes before the staff meeting. And a group of suits said, "GENIUS!"

I'm not naive. I know that for years and years now we have stopped demanding quality in music. But are we really at the point where nonsensical crap isn't even something we can identify? Okay, a lot of great music doesn't make sense. But this isn't great music. In fact, I'm pretty sure that not only does the chorus not make sense, but the verses are a complete rip-off of "Tipsy" by J-Kwon. So we're stealing, and not even from a good store. Son of a bitch, Fergie. (Though I have to admit to kind of liking the J-Kwon song. See, I'm not a total music snob.)

Also, the new Outback Steakhouse commercial features a cover of "Wraith Pinned to the Mist (And Other Games)" by Of Montreal. The cover goes, "Let's go Outback tonight / Life will still be there tomorrow." Instead of "Let's pretend we don't exist / Let's pretend we're in Antarctica." I think the guys at Pitchfork said it best: something along the lines of, "who hears bouyant Elephant 6 indie pop and thinks, 'STEAKS!!'" I don't know what I think of it yet. Just that it's bizarre. Most people I know have never heard of Of Montreal. And then I was sitting on my couch watching TV and there they were on an Outback Steakhouse commercial. I can't decide if they're sellouts or if they just think that's kind of ironic.

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Moving on from pop music. A Jehovah's witness came to my door last week.

ME: (opening door)
HIM: Hi, I'm spreading the word of the Gospel.
ME: Oh. Thanks, I'm not interested. (shutting the door)
HIM: (shouting through the door): HE'S COMING!!!

Yes he is. And he is the police.

I think it's one of Kevin's teachers who invites Jehovah's witnesses in, acts interested, and then says, "Wait, only 144,000 of us are going to be saved? What if I'm taking your place? What if I'm bumping you out of heaven?" Seriously. Why do they proselytize? Doesn't every new convert reduce their odds? He's coming. Aren't you going to feel like an ass when you're number 144,001. And I'm standing in front of you. Ha ha.

What the hell. The things people are willing to believe.

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The Democrats are my unreasonable faith. I need to believe that they're going to finally extract their balls and do something in office. Investigate corporate kickbacks. Make a plan for withdrawal in Iraq. Impeach the president. It's going to happen. It has to.

Yeah. And the guy at my door will be one of the 144,000.