Friday, February 26, 2010
Oh man, R. Number one sex? What in the hell is number two sex? Actually, you know what, I am pretty sure I don’t want to know anymore. What I can’t understand is why a man who’s been accused multiple times of peeing on underage girls would release a song about Number One Sex. We all get it, Kells. You like to pee on people.
The rest of the song also fails to make any sense. You better ask somebody about if you’re having number one sex? What in the hell does that mean? Who is she going to ask? The guy who’s filming it? I know what the best sex I ever had is and I never had to ask anyone about it. I was there. I already know. Also, I don’t know of any sex moves requiring you to mix chop and screw it, but I am not sure I would want my penis involved in any kind of mixing or chopping scenario.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Animals is the disgusting story of Chad Kroeger, the Man-Collie of Nickelback, and his attempts at having sex in a car with a teenage girl, both of whom apparently blow. First of all, I can hardly stand to look at Chad Kroger’s face. The very idea, no mater how unlikely, that I could be driving down the road and accidentally see him having sex in the car next to me is enough to make me want to telecommute for the rest of my life. Although, I do wonder if the canary yellow, overly shaggy carpet matches the frizzed out, Lassie’s ass looking drapes?
Anyways, Chad snickers that his girlfriend is trying to talk with her mouth full. Of his penis. Look, Chaddy...first of all, don’t flatter yourself. You’re a gangly blonde Canadian. I am sure there was plenty of left over room in her mouth for talking. Oddly though, the idea of you having a car accident while having a blow job is oddly appealing to me. Probably because there would be penis related trauma that could severely impact your ability to inflict a Chad Kroeger Jr on us in twenty years. But also because it would not only hurt you, but could also hurt people who would willingly have sex with Nickelback, a category of people that need to be eliminated from the planet.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Hey, if you’re thinking of going to Missy Elliot’s house for a booty call, give the girl a pretty good head’s up because she is going to want to shave all the pubes off her cooter for you. Because who doesn’t like a body part just as it’s freshly shaven and raw and bumpy. I hope that’s not too big a turn off, because she wants you to spend a lot of time face first down there. Specifically, she wants you to go down on her just like a bird that rips the meat off of the bones of dead animals. Just stick your horrific beak in there and rip her apart. Who hasn’t seen footage of vultures eating a dead gazelle and thought, wow, I wish I had that kind of shear destructive power directed at my most sensitive places.
Sorry Missy. You are awesome and I love you. But this line is gross. There’s no sly innuendo, just eat it. And apparently tear and swallow it.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The majority of American Bad Ass is just a list of artists that Kid Rock idolized, including The Rolling Stones, Johnny Cash, The Beastie Boys and Run DMC. Oh, and I almost forgot, he also professed his love for Limp Bizkit. Guess whose influence you can hear the most of in Kid Rock’s work? (Hint: It’s the really stupid one.)
Every portion of this song is idiotic. The reference to the Oklahoma Bombing was edited out on MTV and the radio. I’m not sure why. Nothing is more bad ass than an explosion that kills innocent people set by some lunatics with some vague point. Also Bad Ass? Not caring about an education! As dumb and caveman-like as all this crap is, it’s almost passable until Kid Rock says he’s the shit. Look, the phrase is stupid, we’ve all used it, everyone’s guilty. But Kid Rock is the first person to make it feel like literal shit. You can vividly feel every hot, greasy, yellow turd in this thing. And you know that Kid Rock has some nasty shits. The man is like a walking KFC commercial.
Monday, February 22, 2010
This song starts off with a tone that is dripping in intense sexuality. It’s almost as if Sade and Prince had a baby and that baby is going straight for the button fly on your 501 jeans. But much like George Michael in a public bathroom, when it gets to the actual sex part, it’s not especially well thought out, kind of disgusting and could have been done with a lot less embarrassment to all parties concerned.
I don’t want to be judgmental here, but I am pretty sure that a lady who is looking for a father figure in a sex partner might not be the most mentally stable person of all time. My father gave me five dollars a week to mow the yard, take out the trash and whatever the hell else he needed me to do. Occasionally, he beat the shit out of me and he also signed my report cards. One thing we never were, though, was warm or naked together. Hell, I can’t (or won’t) even imagine my mother being warm or naked with my father. The only way this song could get more creepy is if George Michael’s offered to be your “Uncle Bad Touch figure.”
Friday, February 19, 2010
R. Kelly is a flirt. He’s also a man that has repeatedly hooked up with underage girls and allegedly pees on them. But he is also a flirt. You won’t believe this, but Kells and I have way different definitions of what being a flirt is. Flirting to most people is maybe a suggestive line, telling a funny story and maybe buying a drink. But in this song, R. has greatly expanded flirting to also include fucking other people’s wives and his girlfriend’s friends. So, unless you want to see what the inside of the local Public Health Clinic looks like, never ever let R. Kelly flirt with you.
Luckily, T.I. has tagged along on this flirting adventure to tell us why it’s so easy to get with your girl. As it turns out, you have been having sex wrong and your girlfriend is in need of dick in her life. Dick, by the way, is the most common thing to find on this planet. If you are a woman and the thing you most need is dick, you have done something horribly wrong, because most guys will just give you dick for free. Even when you don’t want it, they will still want to give it to you. If anything, most people suffer from a dick surplus. Just go to chatroulette. You can see at least 8 dicks within 10 minutes. And if that’s not enough dick, T.I. will happily show you the video he made of him banging your whore girlfriend.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Poor Steven Tyler. This lyric is an ode to a man who has no luck. Every girl around him is so turned on that they are literally soaking wet. It should be easy to get laid in such a moist atmosphere. But poor old Stevey. No tongue is drier than his. Literally everyone else is getting more than him. And if you have ever seen Steven Tyler’s massive lips, it is hard to believe that the tongue inside that saliva filled cavern has ever been less than damp. But there it is. He is so put off that he won’t even bother to have sex now. Steven will just come when he gets back, thinking about what all of the luckier fellas have been up to. Nothing like sloppy seconds.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
What have you got to lose? What have you got to lose by sleeping with a woman who has used condoms in her pockets? Where exactly do you draw the line? Because I think it would be less disturbing if the lyric was “She’d taken a dump in her pants, but you know, it was Saturday, so I banged her anyway.” Shitting yourself is gross and all, but at least there could be an explanation behind it. Carrying used condoms around, on the other hand, is just hygienically unacceptable and psychotic.
Okay, the song, which is a cover by tribute band Purple Reign, is embedded below, but it could become a dead link soon. Prince tends to be less forgiving of intellectual property thievery than he is of personal choices, like whether or not to stockpile other peoples' ejaculate on your person.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Somebody has some weiner issues! There’s a lot of questions in this lyric from Maroon 5 frontman Adam Levine, and God, I hope there are a lot of multiple answers. Because right now, this thing reads like an ode to the Predator of cocks. Judging from the back half of this thing, it sounds like some skinny kid wants you to know that he’s bringing the thunder between his legs. He’s telling you that he has a giant rod and that you are going to feel it. And oh yeah, it’s going to be thrilling. The first half though, also sounds like some weird penis power trip, but by someone who has no clue about what anyone interested in sex would be into. “Does it kill? Does it burn?” God, I hope not. Killing, burning penises are powerful, but in a so fucking sick who would ever want to hear about kind of way. This thrilling, burning, giant dick is like Godzilla. Sure, it’s thrilling and in charge and some people survive it, but most people in Tokyo would just as soon rather it stayed under the ocean and never reared it’s head in the first place.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Knack start their song innocently enough. There are certain things that are universal to everyone and looking like a loser to the opposite sex in high school is one of those things. And if you don’t know what they’re talking about here, fuck you. I think I speak for the whole world when I say, get back to your current job selling used Chryslers, you self-assured piece of shit that made everyone miserable when you were 17.
So, we’re in this sweet, looking-back frame of mind, when suddenly, the song takes a weird detour. I am no prude, but I do think there are certain human activities that no matter how normal or fun they are, can never be portrayed in a way that is not revolting to anyone else. Sitting on someone’s face ranks right up there with butthole play and threeways in the category of things that may be fun and even sexually satisfying, but will make you sound like a total perv when you talk about them. Rhyming “face” with “taste” is totally not helping. And then, what the hell is up with the “It hurts” line? Is it the teenage sadness that hurts? Or is it the sitting on your face? Because, as off-putting as the lyric is, no one feels bad for a guy who is in pain because he has a teenage girl putting her fresh young lady parts on his mouth.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Why in the hell is it “Murder She Wrote” when R. Kelly gets this woman out of her clothes? If you’re girlfriend’s naked body is comparable to the saggy and wrinkled Angela Lansbury, you have serious problems, R. Kelly. Especially because you tend to seek out teenagers. Or is it ‘Murder She Wrote” because having sex with you is like watching a mystery show that was so flaccid, millions of elderly people chose to fall asleep to it’s dulcet writing? I hope you’re not saying it’s “Murder, She Wrote” because she’s screaming like she’s being murdered. Because, Robert, I know there’s supposedly a thin line between pleasure and pain, but it’s not really that thin. By the way, comparing your penis to a key is gross. Yeah, it’s stiff and it goes in a hole, but a key is also incredibly crooked and grimy. And, it’s usually in my pants and I instinctively handle it a few times a day. Wow, maybe penises and keys aren’t such bad comparisons after all.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Semi-Charmed Life is the fucking worst. It is easily the worst song from Third Eye Blind, a band that could charitably be counted as among the worst bands of the late nineties which was easily the worst decade for music in the twentieth century. And yet, this fucking awful song, by Third Eye Blind lead singer Stephan Jenkins, was everywhere. It’s a little poison pill that hides in a ton of 90’s movies, just to let you know what two-year-window this film was relevant in. Hell, it was in “The Tigger Movie.” Not bad for a song about some filthy meth heads having scratchy, grimy meth sex with each other.
Where to even start with this horrible song? Stephan Jenkins’ girlfriend comes over and blows him. That is about as much detail as I need in any description of any sexual act that does not personally involve me. And yet, Stephan continues to describe cumming over his ladyfriend. Which is not too surprising. Meth heads give the best blowjobs because they have no teeth. Just pure gums. But later, Stephan intriguingly says her little red panties pass the test. What test? The test to see if there is something that can cover and hide his meth addicted girlfriend’s hideous bony, pimple-ridden ass? But, the test really doesn’t matter, because ol’ Stephan is soon sliding those panties on up to her belly. Normally, we’d say this is physically impossible to pull panties up instead of down for sex, unless they were crotchless panties, which is really just too disgusting for words. But then again, these are meth heads we’re talking about. He may have just banged her through the panties. It’s not like he was feeling anything anyways. At least the girl ended up face down so when she finally passes out, her semen-and-meth-filled vomit will drain away, absolving her of the possibility of choking to death on her own sick.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Let’s get this out of the way up front: I have always found men calling their girlfriends or wives “Mama” disgusting. Unless you have a woman’s young child immediately next to you, calling her Mama is the equivalent of saying, “You remind me of a woman I really love but legally cannot have sex with. So, let me live out my foul fantasies with you instead.” I have never been called “Daddy” by a lady, probably because I never dated a Hispanic woman, but mainly because it would make my penis turn irrevocably limp. This song is creepy enough to begin with, what with the laughing and weird keyboard and Phil Collins gigantic scary forehead, but Phil gets really crazy at the end of this verse. He’s not going to hurt you, Mama, but it’s getting so hard? Is it getting too hard not to hurt her? Because that is really messed up. There has ever only been one person with a good excuse about why it is hard not to hurt someone and that person is Edward Scissorhands. He wants to love you, Winona Ryder, but his fingers are sharp scissors. As awful as abuse is, we really hope that is what this song is about. Because the only other option is that the thing getting too hard is Phil Collins’ peen. And the idea of Phil getting blue balls from his turgid Sussudio is too disgusting for words.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Who are a band that is renowned for their sheer energetic performances, influential musical concepts and their terrifying ideas about what’s sexy. Sure, comparing coitus with the in and out of an accordion gets the whole pumping angle across, but what a horrific image. Accordions are played by three types of people: Insane gypsies, fat polka dudes and Weird Al Yankovic, none of which should make anyone think of anything remotely sex-related. Accordions also have the unfortunate appearance of looking like a scrote sac, one of the most un-erotic pieces of flesh available on a human body. Seriously, bend over and look at yourself from behind in a mirror tonight and wonder why anyone would ever have sex with something that has that connected to it. But if the whole idea of polka-sound-tracked, grindingly repetitive love doesn’t bother you, here’s something that might. You see, Pete Townshend wasn’t writing about nubile, young lovers monotonously pumping all night long. He’s talking about Mama and Dad. Yup. Dad’s work problems and stress? They're caused by your nympho mom who will not let him stop banging her. And it’s not great sex either. Oh, it’s “all right.” But, the old lady ain’t banging out Beethoven up in here. Congratulations, The Who. You have written a whole song about the explicit details and noises of parents having sex, which is about the least sexy thing anyone can imagine at any time ever.
Monday, February 8, 2010
"Lightning crashes, a new mother cries. Her placenta falls to the floor." – Live, Lightning Crashes
Before they were making bloated, pretentious songs that no one paid attention to, like 1999's laughable "The Dolphin's Cry," the band Live was making bloated, pretentious songs that you couldn't escape, no matter how hard you tried. The nation was under a spell, and businessmen in cars and children in waiting rooms were singing along with Ed Kowalczyk as he whisper-sang intensely about spilling afterbirth on the floor.
There are a lot of things to witness there in the delivery room - the first sight of the head, the doctor saying "it's a girl," the joy on your wife's face when she finally gets to hold her child in her arms - and if you're Ed Kowalczyk, apparently you think, "I'm gonna go write a song about the stuff I saw falling out of her vagina afterwards."
Here, check out the disgusting video, where they even give you a drop of watery blood to help you imagine it. But you should imagine it more like a huge, mucusy gray raisin, cause that's more what it really looks like. Hey, don't thank me. Thank Live.
Friday, February 5, 2010
This song is so disgusting on so many levels. Any girl that has been sleeping with both Usher and R. Kelly is, at this point, probably a chemical toilet, filled with enzymes and bacteria not seen by the likes of human kind. You’d have better luck making love to the Alien and still keeping your penis than coming anywhere near this monstrosity. And if R. Kelly is saying that this girl is his potential wife, she’s also probably around 15 years old. The proof that Usher and R. Kelly discover about them sharing the same girl is also ridiculous. She has a tattoo on her ankle, works at TBS and likes Waffle House? Well, that narrows it down to about 145 people. The only thing that is truly surprising is that R. Kelly and Usher would be this upset about having sex with the same girl and had not already both banged her simultaneously.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Bryan Adams may be best known as a singer-songwriter who gave up all credibility in the nineties so he could sing songs for really crappy movies about old action heroes. And just like the movies he sang for (Robin Hood, Three Musketeers and Don Juan De Marco), none of these songs are especially well thought of these days. You have to breathe and taste a woman to love her? What in the hell does that mean? What are you breathing and tasting exactly? You know what, Ol’ Craggly Face, I don’t want to picture you putting your mouth on anything. I’ve “tasted” ladies in my day, and they kind of all taste the same: not great. If it was a good taste, they would make “lady” flavored candy. But no wants to taste that if you’re not getting anything else out of it. By far, though, the most disgusting lyric is seeing an unborn child in her eyes. What in the hell? Did you just unload on this woman’s face, dude? Not cool. Not cool at all. Bryan Adams may also be the first man in history to be turned on by the idea of his unborn children. No other man has ever been aroused by the idea of making a baby. Sure, the actual baby-making part is great, but the idea of creating a baby out of that is not that erotic. If you want to get your husband to immediately crawl off of you, just say that you want him to put a baby inside of you. It will stop any sex from happening for days. Trust me.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
If you were white and went to the college in the nineties, you probably had at least one friend who wore a hemp necklace and American Eagle cargo shorts who swore Dave Matthews was the best thing ever. That friend has now porked up and is living in the suburbs, where he is working on his third kid and his fourth viewing of The Hangover, but still listening to DMB on Easy 98.5. Even going past the really inane come/cum lyric, this song is seriously gross. Is Dave Matthews calling this lady’s vagina her world? Look, I love vaginas, but in the geography of a woman, a vagina is like South America. It’s a totally awesome continent with really fun things to do and it is sometimes dangerous. But South America ain’t the whole world. Believe me, you want to also spend time in Asia and Europe. And if you’re adventurous, maybe go back to Africa. But even after this whole, let me drive my seed in you because your vagina is the whole world lyric, Dave makes it even more disgusting. In a boy’s dream? Why are you dragging little boys into this, Dave?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
This song was Elvis’ first recording after he was released from the Army and clearly, poor Sgt. Presley came back a changed man from his time in the armed services. Elvis’ message with this song is that he is never going to stop chasing you down. Sure, you can say you want him to go away, but he is going to stick. Like glue. You may want a moment alone, but you ain’t getting it. You’re going to be like one of those creepy couples who are comfortable pooping with the bathroom door wide open. So, the man is clingy. That could be livable. But then, Elvis tells his girlfriend, hey bitch, it’s no use hiding. Go anywhere the hell you want. The kitchen, the hall, the basement, your parents’ house, the set of Two and a Half Men. It doesn’t matter how desolate and unpleasant a place you go, he will find you. He’s like the T2 of date rapists. And a team of wild horses, your sorority sisters and a security guard couldn’t tear him off.
Also, thanks so much for helping to get the word out. I am thrilled that we are picking up steam, and I am incredibly grateful for the people who have posted about the blog on their Facebook statuses, user groups and twitter. And I will be your best friend if you help spread the word, too. Cross my heart.
I also want to thank people for all of the song suggestions. I have been really happy that you guys are contributing too. And to my one persistent follower, I swear we are getting to Dave Matthews soon. Some of you guys have been suggesting genres too. What do you all think? Too much pop? Not enough rap? Country? Limp Bizkit? Just kidding. Those guys are douches (except you, Wes). Let us know your thoughts and comments, either here or at the Facebook page or at our email: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Welcome to the song that ruined Heart. Any awesomeness from “Barracuda” is outweighed by the sheer volume of shittitude from this turd fest. So, for those of you following along at home, Ann Wilson finds a drifter shuffling around in the rain, throws him in her car, takes him back to a hotel and has sex with him so she can have a baby. Sounds like a really awesome plan! What could go wrong from having unprotected sex from a drifter? He probably has really awesome genes you want to pass along to your children because there’s no chance he’s mentally unstable! So, Ann has her way with this dude and leaves this insane note. Is Ann the flower or is she the soil? Is she the soil, and her vagina is a flower growing from her lady soil? And the dirt clod they buried from which the tree grew her womb? It's all very confusing. At least he’ll always be in her memory. And his drifter herpes will always be in her blood.