Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

Renzo's Rant

The Pussycat Dolls


A while ago, a song entitled Don't Cha hit the airwaves. It was by a group calling themselves The Pussycat Dolls, the full name of which was actually The Pussycat Dolls Burlesque Dancers. The troupe had previously been known for its risque but clothed dancing routines, until some marketing genius had decided to cash in on their apparently overflowing musical talent. The result was a song (originally recorded by some obscure person that no one remembers) that, at first glance, seemed to be a rather self-serving glorification of themselves, as it was largely about how they were hot, our girlfriends were not, and how we should feel even worse about that fact because they were clearly never going to get with us. A second glance, however, revealed that the song was not largely about that, it was entirely about it. This lead me to believe, justifiably, that they felt they were hot and liked to rub it in other peoples' faces.

After that I didn't hear from the Dolls for a while, and I assumed that they were going to join the esteemed ranks of one-hit-wonderdom along with the likes of Los del Rio, 20 Fingers, and The Big Bopper (hopefully they would also die in a tragic plane crash with Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens before they were able to release another hit). However, a few months ago they released a couple more singles, the most recent of which carried the unwieldy title of *Beep* and featured will.i.am from The Black Eyed Peas. I naturally assumed that this time around, they would still be musically masturbating their swollen egos. Imagine, then, my surprise when I listen to the lyrics and discovered the following:

It's funny how a man only thinks about the *beep*

You got a real big heart, but I'm lookin' at your *beep*

You got real big brains, but I'm lookin' at your *beep*

Girl, there ain't no pain in me lookin' at your *beep*

...

Every boy's the same, since up in the seventh grade

They've been trying to get with me, trying to ha ha ha

They've always got a plan to be my one and only man

Want to hold me with their hands, want to ha ha ha

I keep turning them down, but they always come around

Asking me to go around, that's not the way it's going down

As you might expect, these lyrics did much to confuse me. The Pussycat Dolls, the most manufactured musical group since Barbie & Skipper's Sing-A-Long Karaoke Fun Machine, seemed to be saying that men were paying attention to them not because of their "real big" hearts or brains, but rather their...uh, their "beep", whatever that means. I tried reading will.i.am's lips during the music video and I'm pretty sure he's actually saying the word beep, so I guess it's up to the audience to decide exactly what they're accusing us of coveting (my money's on "appendix"). And although there's a few lines where they claim that they don't care if they're ogled because "it don't mean a thing", the general idea of the song still seems to be that they're claiming we men are shallow, seeking nothing but physical gratification from an attractive partner.

The following is directed at you, Pussycat Dolls. If you really feel the way you claim to, consider the following:

Now, I know you aren't hypocrites, Pussycat Dolls. Your well thought-out maxims and air-tight logic suggest that you are definitely people who practice what you preach. Therefore, I can only assume that your boyfriends are very nice and smart guys who also happen to be as ugly as fuck. If men are not allowed to try to "get with" you because you're hot, then surely the reverse must be true, as well. Dating a stupid or uncaring hunk would make you just as bad as your song claims all men to be. But, just on the off chance that any of you are currently involved with or interested in a hot guy, I hereby command you to break it off immediately and pair up with one of the men pictured to the right. That's an order, ladies!

Wait, I just had a great idea! While you're hooking up with those guys, I'm going to go form my own band. It'll be made up of five or six hideously ugly genius philanthropists, and their first song will be them bragging about how much smarter and nicer than everyone they are. Then in the follow up, they'll whine about how no one finds them attractive. I think I'll call them The Cock-Crazy Cum Guzzlers.


Home