This is a post in which I am mixing together many of my insights over the past month. With all the crap about college, my teachers refusing to understand that I’m done with school, and me trying to compose some sort of short story/book to get published, I have not had time to sit down and write. That, on top of my parents forbidding me from posting anything inappropriate because “colleges look at my website,” delayed the release of my “Step By Step Guide To Naming Your Testicals,” which will be published soon. As for now, it’s 8 o’clock on a Sunday night, and I am finally ready to open your eyes.
First off, I hate Soulja Boy. Like, seriously. If I had a gun I would shoot him in the face with no remorse. His songs do nothing but pollute the radio and are the least original things in the history of music. Even his name is horrible. He claims his full stage name is “Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em,” which makes no sense. Why would anyone voluntarily complicate their name, turning it into a shitty command/sentence fragment? I don’t understand why he didn’t just stick with Soulja Boy. To make matters worse, he shouts out his name before every song he sings. Now, anyone who knows anything about show business knows that in order to succeed in the music industry, you must holler your pseudonym before anything you create. Lord knows I openly shout my stage name before everything I say.
Teacher: So if the base of the quadrilateral is 16, what is the circumference of the outer circle?
Me: BOONY! It seems that the circle’s diameter is 20, making the circumference roughly 62.8 inches
Teacher: That’s correct.
Me: SUPERMAN THAT HOE!
Which leads me to the song that made him famous, “Crank That”. The song is horrible. It doesn’t mention any real message or idea, and, even worse, Soulja wrote it when he was 17 years old. Now, this may not seem like a big deal to people who enjoy the idea of a young mind in an industry, but I think that once you realize what the true meaning of Supermaning a hoe is, you’ll be shocked about it being the chorus of the song.
As if things couldn’t get worse, Soulja ruined the dance floor with the dance that went along with the song. I grew up in a suburban white neighborhood, so any dance party in which that song came on would suddenly become a fight over who really knew the dance moves. Some people would use both legs, others would use one. Some people would switch, others would stay consistent. Regardless, the “Crank That” dance always resulted in people bumping into one another trying to dance like a cripple.
I think it’s just his voice. I hate his whiny, high-pitched, gangster-slurred voice. He hardly rhymes, he has no regard for syllables, and he doesn’t even keep the beat. He sounds like an 8-year-old. His song “Turn My Swag On” makes me want to crash my car. Okay, enough about him, I’m getting angry.
This next piece is a good note, and mainly a notification to the kids of my generation who have given up on MTV. A few years ago, MTV introduced the world to “Reality TV,” which resembled less of real life and more of producers shitting show ideas out their ass onto a crowd of camera whores. It resulted in crappy shows like Laguna Beach, The Hills, The City, Life Of Cryin’ Ryan, and any idea that involved attractive people they could drag a camera behind. And, as is typical with MTV, this paved the way for every radio station to “follow around” a D-List celebrity as they “lived their life.”
As a result, one of my favorite stations, Vh1 became a cesspool of brain-rotting productions that were as entertaining as shitting out an Xbox controller. I already wrote a post about how this shit has spread like cancer, but it’s gotten much worse. Suddenly, New York from the original Flavor Of Love (remember that show?) is having her own show where she does jobs people suggest. Who does she think she is, Mike Rowe?
Anyway, my point is that MTV has redeemed itself. It realized that no one wanted to see if Rachel and Jessica were going to ever talk to each other after Steve hooked up with Jessica on Rachel’s birthday; and instead, understood that the teenagers who watch MTV want one thing: mindless awesomeness.
Because of this, they started shows like “Nitro Circus” and “Rob Dyrdek’s Fantasy Factory,” two shows where people with too much money waste it to live out our dreams. In Nitro Circus they crash cars and do insane stunts that everyone wants to do, and in “Fantasy Factory” Rob Dyrdek, a professional skateboarder, throws down thousands of bills an episode to further push the limit. In both shows they set world records, but not pussy world records like “oldest woman ever” or “most traffic cones collected.” Hell no, these guys break records like “most backflips done on a motorcycle in 30 seconds,” “longest distance jumped on a lawn mower,” and “worlds biggest skateboard.”
These two shows are only the captains on a brilliant team of new shows that have gone back to the original basis of television: to let people watch things they will never be able to do. I will never own a massive warehouse with a giant foam pit, zip-line, or tennis ball gun. I would, however, like to watch someone else own those things.
My last thing is that Fmylife.com needs to stop. It was funny when people started writing FML on their away messages or Facebook statuses, and it was cute when a website with funny anecdotes was made for us to read daily to feel better about our lives, but when the shit becomes an Iphone App and every single fucking girl in the whole world is reading it and submitting their shitty breakup stories on it, it has become enough. Fmylife.com is proof that even as females age, they still become obsessed with trivial nothings instead of actually trying to do something useful like, for example, not be an idiot.
I had a bunch of other things to write about, and I know this wasn’t that funny or insightful, but I’m getting carpel tunnel from all the writing I’ve been doing in my Creative Writing class. My next entry will be the 15 page “short story” my teacher made me write in less than a week. I’m about to superman that hoe.