I arrived at the home of an elderly man approaching his upper 80s this morning for a routine roof inspection. I informed him it would take me 15 minutes or so to scope everything out. He replied with, “Good, that gives me some time to check my Facebook.”
He wasn’t kidding. I checked.
Frank. 33 friends.
Apparently Rebecca Black didn’t get it the first time. After an online backlash bludgeoning of Nagasaki-proportions, she still remained delusional enough of her imaginary talent to come out with yet another song for the world to mock. “My Moment” confirms what everyone in the world already knew; she sounds like indigestion, and looks like a downie.
.“But guys, I can’t dance,” she says to the producers as they outline what they want for the video.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” they retort as they wave their hand. “We’ll do about 400 split second shots of you moving your arms and legs and then edit the shit out of it until it’s one big pixelated, choppy blur and no one can even tell what’s going on—-basically the same thing that we’re doing with your voice.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, and reapplies lipgloss.
“Oh yeah—and be sure to fake laugh a lot and smile like a lunatic so people think you’re unaffected by the violent hatred and suicide-encouraging negative feedback you got from the last song,” they add.
Did they instruct her to constantly blink slowly and deliberately throughout the entire video, or did she do that on her own? She looks like an insane person. A crazed person who has just decided they’re going to eat someone.
I like that there are young children in the background wailing away on the guitar, when absolutely no guitar tracks are even heard. All I hear are synthesizers, keyboards, and autotune.
I wonder how much money they had to pay everyone to stage fake red carpet appearances and limo rides and pretend paparazzi for this video. I’d like to point out at this point the black man from her original “Friday” video making a cameo as a “paparazzi” at 3:06. Is that not enough of an indication that you’re not famous and talented that you have to stage and hire “fans” (relatives) because you don’t have any real ones? Sounds like a classic case of common sense to me. Then again, I’m not retarded. Black doesn’t have much to work with in that arena.
Speaking of birthdays, mine is on Sunday. I will be celebrating by consuming an excessive amount of Italian cuisine, Funfetti birthday cake (is there any other kind?), and digging through my mother’s care package which is always full of delightful goodies. You may send $20s and $50s via mail or PayPal. Thanks.
Kidding. Bye “Hans.” My friend Hans likes to read my blogs.
“I’ll tell you what you’re about to find is my foot in your ass!”
“I don’t think we have enough lotion for that.”