April 27, 2009
Oh, It’s What You Do to Me . . .
While browsing the summer collection of a local clothier yesterday afternoon, I was hit with a most unpleasant blast from the not too distant past. As you have probably noticed, retailers make the very peculiar assumption that their customers are hardcore soft rock fans and so they make a practice of pumping the local “Magic” or “Mix” station through their P.A. system. This was indeed the case at the merchant I was visiting. As I thumbed through the racks on this warm Carolina Sunday, the melodies of the Savage Garden suddenly morphed into that thoroughly awful acoustic ballad entitled “Hey There Delilah.” I had almost forgotten this atrocity which was all the rage a year or two ago. This seems quite unfathomable of course as “Delilah” was the song that finally managed to end the twenty year reign previously held by Simply Red’s “Holding Back the Years” to become the worst song ever. While we should never forget the horror brought upon us by that freak with the red dreadlocks, this Delilah song guy takes the cake with his purest of all pieces of shit. “Oh, it’s what you do to me”, he sings in his stoner kid voice, sounding a lot like that dude in the Hardees’ (aka Carl’s Jr.) radio spots – the one who woke up after a night of heavy partying to find he accidentally fucked his friend’s dog, a shame to be cured only by a breakfast burrito from his favorite fast food chain.
So, you ask, how in heavens did such a nausea inducing ditty manage to become so gosh bloody darn popular? Well, it seems chicks actually dig a shaggy bearded, pale, emaciated, long haired fuck face (he’s probably a vegan as well, assholes like him usually are) who sings tenderly about taking care of his girl when he becomes a big star. Of course, I’m just guessing as to what this douche looks like as I’ve never actually seen him. I was tempted to do a Google search but frankly I would be more embarrassed to have someone find that in my browser history than those sporadic visits to trannyfuckers.com. Anyway, upon contemplating this, I came to an important realization. THIS IS IT – the root cause of homosexuality. No, it’s not genetics or childhood trauma, nor mental illness. It’s having a surplus of self respect, so much so that you would rather suck on a slimy, hairy, sweaty and putrescent sac of balls than resort to charming the object of your affection in as disgusting a manner as writing a “Hey There Delilah”.
So there it is. Religious right take notice: it’s not the homosexuals you should be burning at the stake – it’s guitar playing pussies like this! No Virginia, God doesn’t hate fags. He hates faggy balladeers.
Had I more self respect I’d be heading right now for the bath house. For better or worse though, I am deficient when it comes to self worth so I shall maintain my scrotum free diet, at least for the time being.