My Hump.

The aforementioned hump.


It occurs to me that, with my impending return to Cream city, this here blog may well cease to be in the near future. Now don't get me wrong, I love spewing half-informed profanity at my friends and loved ones. However, since I will shortly be able to spew said half-informed profanities to said friends and loved ones in person, and since said friends and loved ones are the only people who read this thing in the first place, the blog reaches a point of existential crisis.

Now, I'll probably keep the blog active to occasionally post the occasional fevered apocalyptic vision, but the frequency of posts will be drastically lower. As such, I think I should get the most out of this last month, instead of letting whole weeks go by without posting. The only problem is that I don't have anything to say, really. I know that this fact has never stopped me before, but it's been a slightly larger problem lately.

I do have one thing to say, though, and it is somewhat controversial.

It is this: the Black Eyed Peas My Humps is the single dumbest song in the history of the world. Without a doubt. If you don't believe me, take a gander at the lyrics, in their entirety.

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)

I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these icies.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin'
flyBut I ain’t askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Seven Jeans, True Religion's,
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

My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She’s got me spending.(Oh)
Spendin’ all your money on me
and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.(Oh)
Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)

I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Let's spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.

They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can’t touch it,
If you touch it I'ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don’t pull on my hand boy,
You ain’t my man, boy,
I’m just tryn’a dance boy,And move my hump.

My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
my hump, my hump.My lovely lady lumps [x3]
In the back and in the front.
My lovin’ got u,
She’s got me spendin’.(Oh)
Spendin’ all your money on me
and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.(Oh)
Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.

She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin’ time on me
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.

It's breathtaking, seeing it in print like that. Reading that, how can any self-respecting person who has ever owned a Black Eyed Peas record not fight the urge to commit ritual seppukku. Where to begin? The rhyming of "sexy" with "sex me" and "next to me" with "next to me"? That "milky milky cocoa puff" business? You know what, it's just too baroque an atrocity to even begin to parse. The one thing that really, really boggles my mind about this song, though, is the insane conviction of it's authors (to sully the word) that the words "hump" and "lump" somehow connote sexiness. Frankly, I can't think of two less sexy words in the English language. You know what I think when I hear the words "hump" and "lump"? I think abnormal growth, tumor, goiter, cyst. In short, something that they find inside of you on a disturbing X-Ray, then have to have surgically removed. Something dense and sweaty, pulsing with deadly energy, maybe with hair and teeth growing out of it. That's David Cronenberg's idea of sexy, but not mine.