I’m talking with my sister this morning about school and whatnot. She’s just going over the stuff that I have experienced in middle school- you know, the stuff that makes men cry for being insecure. We get to the point where she is glad that today is Friday, and she immediately sings the chorus of that song…
AND SO DID I.
I stopped myself once my tongue started to bleed and a nuclear countdown commenced, but it took another half a minute of me writhing on the floor in agony for her to quit singing. I could not believe that the aggressively accessible, pop melody abortion which was forcibly removed from the asshole of Hell and unleashed on the unsuspecting world, spreading necrosis to 150,793,231 centers of the globe, could possibly continue to thrive months after its inception.
OK, maybe the worthlessness of the song is overstated a little bit, but mark my words- “Friday” will be with us for years to come, in actual enjoyment and in jest. The fact that a short song with no apparent meaning or storyline (there is a crack team of linguists and investigators dissecting the lyrics as this is being typed) despite the worship of the fifth day of the week can be given so much attention beyond merit is hard to accept, but what is worse is the collective state of entertainment as a whole. Need an explanation? Check out more of each: The Real Housewives of [insert city here], Jersey Shore, Flavor of Love, Soulja Boy, Flavor of Love, Shit My Dad Says, Childish Gambino, etc.
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