I mean, this is the song of our times. This is great. Everything about this is great. Literally every sentient being in the universe is credited on this song, although it sounds to me like a Timbaland joint. I hope that the person who wrote the line “I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker” got paid many euros. The video is happening and it is great and retro. I myself have not performed (or, for that matter, received) fellatio in a limousine, so I will take her word for it that if Beyoncé herself were, indeed, performing it, it would require her going upon her knees, although it seems much simpler and, in point of fact, more discreet to simply lean over there and get to work. However, one has had the intelligence that her husband’s penis “could block the sun,” so she probably knows much better than anyone the logistical choreography required to get ‘r dunn in the back seat of any vehicle. Also: did everybody else know it was called the partition? I would have called it the divider, or perhaps the rood screen.
I do not have any particular drama currently—at least not of the caliber afflicting Ms. Mary J. here—I don’t think three nights of terrible sleep induced by Female Type Body Things counts—but I feel it is important that we all take a moment to remember that this song is wonderful.
I am bingeing on all of my The National (and holy jeez do I love the awkwardness of the first part of this sentence) today because I will not be able to get Trouble Will Find Me until tonight, and I have purposefully not heard any of it yet, and don’t you DARE come over here and make me listen to their Letterman appearance, because I want to be SURPRISED.
"Oh, but first, it’s Ke$ha. So here’s the deal: Sometimes I think Ke$ha is some kind of genius zillionth-wave feminist and sonic innovator; other times I think Ke$ha is what would happen if the woman who sang “Short Dick Man” updated her studio equipment and read every third word of Camille Paglia’s Vamps & Tramps. In the final analysis, her music is pure hedonism and joy the likes of which we haven’t seen since 1984-era Van Halen, and I don’t remember the New York Times analyzing David Lee Roth’s crazy bullshit. I don’t know what Ke$ha is and neither do you and neither does she, and we should all stop thinking about it so hard and just dance. May I buy you an energy drink and vodka?"