The Human Stain

I think it's a great thing that hip hop rules the Earth now. Every fourteen-year-old in every country whose media has advanced past the "remaindered Michael Jackson tape" stage (and whose governments won't cut their heads off for looking at black people) lives their life to a soundtrack of American rap.

The bad thing is that contemporary rock music, having confronted the empirical and undeniable superiority of rap, is attempting to dip its nail-polished fingers in the pie. First Lil' Wayne decided to announce the end of his career with a cacophony of screeching Avril Lavigne guitars, then this:

brokeNCYDE - Booty Call Feat. E-40


Luckily, the Criss Angel VH1 emocore cokefiend eagle-tattoo-on-chest guyliner invertebrates have only succeeded in capturing E-40, a fourth-tier artist who hasn't gotten a record on the radio since back when people thought taking ecstasy and jumping out of moving cars was cool. But HOLY SHIT. What is your deal? You know who listens to you? Guys who watch TV shows where every time anyone walks anywhere (usually to go into a store that sells internet browsers for motorcycle dashboards) it's in fast motion.


"Oh baby girl I see your photos on myspace
You look so beautiful
So what I gotta do to take you to my place
So you can be my booty girl."


Asher Roth, I'm sorry I called you a date rapist. Not because you aren't, but just because I had forgotten that there are bigger enemies at work in the world. You know what I think about when I imagine girls I have crushes on being hit on by guys who aren't me? These people. It's like whatever soulless label executive cooked up this band magically recorded my nightmares and set them to "music."

BrokeNCYDE, you are not date rapists. You are rapists. Old fashioned. I think I caught syphilis just from watching that, you fucking mongoloids.