Trading Places

24 December 2008

Dan keeps bugging me to write.  The end of the semester and exam week really did me in — I’m tired, irritable, and more than a bit burned out.  I’ve been doing nothing but playing Left 4 Dead and Castle Crashers for an entire week, bugging the living shit out of my friends (I don’t own an XBox 360).  I’m like the Tyrone Biggums of video game consoles.

I want some Castle Crashers.

Joe Rogan, this is not the first time I've tasted penis for some Castle Crashers.

Alright, so enough of this shit and onto today’s topic.  When I’m in the car, I listen to whatever contemporary pop Hip-Hop station I can find.  I do this for the chuckles — there’s nothing a Hip-Hop singer won’t sing about soulfully (clubs, bitches, getting head, not finding any seeds in your sack of weed, the list goes on).  Not to mention, I like to keep up on the most recent slang. 

Recently I heard the song “Trading Places” by Usher.

Apparently, it’s a red-letter day in the Usher household.  Why, you ask?  Is it an anniversary?  Did his girlfriend get a promotion?  Did Usher just beat Left 4 Dead on expert-mode?

Nope.  Tonight, Usher’s girlfriend is going to fuck him from the top.  That’s what the song is about.  That’s what “trading places” refers to.  She’s going to fuck him on top, and this is such a rare occurrence that he must commemorate its passing with song.  

That’s not where the ridiculousness of the song stops, however.  Apparently men and women don’t act the way they do because of genes or some stupid shit like culture and society.  They act the way they do based on who fucks who on top, according to Usher.

Once his woman does him from the top, let’s examine his resulting behavior:

I’ll be waking u up to a cup of Folgers 
Pancakes and eggs I owe ya breakfast in bed, oh baby 
And your orange juice sitting on the coaster 
Toast on the side baby strawberry and grape jelly 
You finished let me get that drink, 
Pull the curtain from the window 
Time to get up baby let me make this bed up 
Today we going shopping blow 30 on me 
Make it 60, spend it like u really love me 
Skip dinner and we gon rent a movie 
You order chinese food right before u do me 
You coming on strong baby let me wash me hands 
She said hurry up then get your ass to bed 

We get the point.  Usher’s doing the things his girlfriend normally does.  However, there are a few questionable things about this passage.  First of all, if you needed any more evidence that Usher is gay, he’s putting the orange juice on the coaster.  I mean, I understand that he’s supposed to be acting like the woman in this song, but keep in mind he sat down and wrote (or read) the lyrics at some point.  

Second of all, Usher is giving his woman Folgers.  FOLGERS.  Come on man, you’re USHER.  Cough up $20 and get a fucking grinder for crying out loud.  Folgers?  Folgers!?

(yeah) Wash the car 
(yeah) I’m gonna walk the dog 
(yeah) Take out the trash 
(yeah) With nothing but your t-shirt on 
(yeah) I’m gonna press your shirt 

This shit is just beyond the pale.  Keep in mind he’s not doing these things for his woman because he loves her, but because of their particular spatio-temporal relations during sexual intercourse.  

I understand that a white guy commenting on Hip Hop is at best stupid and at worst inappropriate.  But then again — I have ears, don’t I?


Jingle Balls

30 November 2008

There’s a Panera down the street from my house that’s served as my study spot this semester.  It has good lighting, power outlets, and free refills of decent coffee.  Next week is finals week, so I figured to spend plenty of time there this week preparing.  During my visit today, however, I discovered that I would have to go elsewhere.  Why?

Christmas music.  It’s not even December, and they’re already playing Christmas music.  In the name of all things sacred, why must we be subjected to this sonic diarrhea? Who wants to hear it?  Not the poor bastards who work there, that’s for sure.  I’m generally a peaceful guy, but if I worked at Panera and had to hear “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” on a continuous loop for eight hours each day I’d go Seung-Hui Cho on motherfuckers then burn that son of a bitch to the ground.

Christmas music can suck my furry green cock.

Christmas music can suck my furry green cock.

What about the customers?  There might be a few who enjoy it, but they must be a tiny minority; everyone I know can’t stand it.  Nevertheless, the douchebags at corporate somehow decide that this is what everyone wants to hear.  What cruel irony.

On a related note, whenever I hear the line “don we now our gay apparel,” I always picture the classic 1950’s nuclear family in front of the fireplace, smiling as they put on their assless chaps and nipple clamps.  Just thought you might like to know.