I hate the radio more than fraternities and hippie dancing: A post in two parts.

Occasionally, I accidentally hit the preset and lead myself away from the safe confines of Michelle Norris's lovely voice. Usually, I end up at 98.9, where they play the top 40 drivel of the day. Sometimes, I really slip up and hit the band and find myself listening to the Sports Animal. Always, I want to maneuver my car into oncoming traffic.

I. I Kissed a Girl - Katy Perry

If your ears work, chances are, you've been aurally assaulted by this song. It's caught fire faster than California. It's freaking everywhere and every time I witness someone rocking out to the popish bigotry, a little piece of my liberal Smith attending bleeding heart dies. On the surface, one might think that this song of purported sexual exploration is actually a validation that being a lesbian isn't so taboo these days and that the young kids don't really give a crap who you're screwing, just as long as you're on Facebook and at least one article of clothing comes from Abercrombie. However, under its semblance of innocent curiosity lies the same old shit. Katy sings (barely audible over Britney Spears worthy production noise) "It's not what good girls do / Not how they should behave." Really? It's fucking 2008. I would argue that while some might deem these lyrics as harmless without real impact to the perception of homosexuality in America, these dumbass lyrics and so many others that spread through the earbuds of so many are absolutely culturally lethal. Say what you will. I'll think what I want.

II. The Sports Manimals

I won't bore you with the spectacular disaster that is The Sports Animal. Basically, it's a local sports show featuring people I don't really know or care about. The Lost Ogle does an excellent job of distilling just why these turds are so ridic* so I won't say much. I was driving back from Texas last week, and TSA was the only station that would come in clearly. Also, my mom needs to know what's happening with the OU football team in the dead of summer at all times. So I listened for a bit before I drifted off due to extreme boredom. When I awoke, somewhere in the Arbuckles, I was plunged into a 20 minute long melee about what the score of some game was last season. There are like 1200 people in the studio or on the phone. It's not like they were trying to recall the score of the Paoli/Wayne 1A championship football game of October 1967, it was the score of OU/Missouri or some shit. Even Dean Blevins didn't know. WHAT THEY HELL IS THEIR JOB THEN I ask you? Do they not have computers that can access espn.com? WTF! They make more than I'll ever make for knowing less than my mom about football (she was furiously screaming the answer into the windshield). Seriously, I would rather hippie dance at a frat formal to the Bird on a Wire soundtrack than listen to that show in its entirety.



*Julie Gongism #13