I'm a make, make, make you puke
Nov. 11th, 2005 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
webofevilThere's a moment in the Family Guy Stewie Griffin special where normally straight-laced Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa disintegrates in the presence of David Bowie, falling to her knees, humping his leg and crying “Me love to meet Ziggy Stardust! Me take you home and make you fishball soup! Fishball!” Cut back to the newsroom, where one of the anchors, his eyes on stalks, says “Thank you, Tricia, for setting your people back a thousand years.”
That's much the same effect the new Black-Eyed Peas single has. Fergie lives up to every misogynist’s expectations of women as vain hardbody vampires, boasting how:
Meanwhile the men are protesting that:
For the chorus, in a rare confluence of penetrating insight and sublime poetry, we get this:
The net effect, as she writhes around gleefully explaining how her “lady lumps” (did one of the guys write this chorus when he was eight?) encourage men to keep her in jewellery and pretty clothes, is indeed that she sets “her people” (i.e. women, rather than Caucasians being unconvincingly palmed off as Latinas) back a thousand years. Still, I'm sure I’ve read this all wrong and in fact it’s terribly empowering, right, sisters?
(Oh, and please, less of the “I’ma”. She’s the very definition of “whitebread”. She’s as convincing speaking Ebonics as I am.)
That's much the same effect the new Black-Eyed Peas single has. Fergie lives up to every misogynist’s expectations of women as vain hardbody vampires, boasting how:
I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and then Donna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’ fly
But I ain’t askin’,
They say they love my ass in
Seven Jeans, True Religions,
I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’
And no I ain’t taken
We can keep on datin’
I keep on demonstrating.
Meanwhile the men are protesting that:
She’s got me spendin’.Fergie concurs, adding:
Spendin’ all your money on me
And spending time on me.
For the chorus, in a rare confluence of penetrating insight and sublime poetry, we get this:
Black-eyed Pea: What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
Black-eyed Pea-ette: I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
Black-eyed Pea: What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
Black-eyed Pea-ette: I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps.
The net effect, as she writhes around gleefully explaining how her “lady lumps” (did one of the guys write this chorus when he was eight?) encourage men to keep her in jewellery and pretty clothes, is indeed that she sets “her people” (i.e. women, rather than Caucasians being unconvincingly palmed off as Latinas) back a thousand years. Still, I'm sure I’ve read this all wrong and in fact it’s terribly empowering, right, sisters?
(Oh, and please, less of the “I’ma”. She’s the very definition of “whitebread”. She’s as convincing speaking Ebonics as I am.)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 05:54 pm (UTC)I have a printout of a terrific Onion story somewhere entitled "Women Now Empowered By Virtually Everything They Do". I'll dig it out for you.
BTW - Get Well Soon!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 06:05 pm (UTC)