My humps

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)
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?

What a testament to our culture. If you never understood the marketing machine, we can use this song as an example. First off, let me begin by making the point that we can all universally agree this is not the best song in the world right now. I'm sure there are very different opinions on the matter, but there are quite possibly more than 3 million songs in the world, right now, that are better than this. It actually sounds like it's something made in some pre-pubescent teens basement. Somehow, someway, this song is a #1.

This confirms my theory that "hitlists" are actually nothing more than ad spaces. It's a silent auction bidding war between record companies to get their song to the #1 slot. The Black Eyed Peas bought their position. They're corporate whores who've deviated from the "realness" of music. They should be ashamed of themselves.

A little over a year ago, I made love to a woman. As I was getting to know her, I asked her what type of music she listens to, you know, as an icebreaker. She told me she listened to "Top 40". I don't know what that means. It's like saying you only pay attention to television to see the commercials. "Top 40" music is a commercial. It has nothing to do with music. Nothing. I puked all over the bitch and as she was putting her clothes back on, I called her fake.

Not really though.

But she deserves it...and so does Fergie.