Color me Confused

I like pop music.  I wont lie.  I love me some Rihanna, some (not all, but some) Black Eyed Peas, a little bit of Usher.  But color me confused when it comes to this so-called singer who calls her self Ke$ha.

Sure, I bopped my head along to her first two songs, even though I was generally embarrassed to be caught listening to anybody who brushes her teeth with booze.  But her latest songs?  They make me want to gauge out my ears.  I want to call this young woman's parents and ask them if they are proud of their daughter.  Because let me tell you, if momma and poppa PB heard me singing about sleeping with boys in my basement, being drunkity all the time, and having a general lack of hygiene, taste, class, etc, they would disown me.

While spending some time Googling Ke$ha, I cam across this little gem.  In case you still don't understand all that is wrong with Ke$ha, maybe this will help.

Glozelle translates Ke$ha song

If you like Ke$ha, I am going to lump you into a group of all of the other people that I judge:  Girls who make kissy/pouty faces in their pictures, have over plucked eyebrows, have acrylic nails; boys who wear white sneakers, have diamond studded earrings, who overly groom their facial hair;  hipsters.  I can't help it.  If you like Ke$ha and her "I don't know how to sing, only talk in a whiny annoying rhyme" voice, then I am no longer your friend.

I know it might sound harsh, but listen, if you like Ke$ha, the same music that makes me want to vomit, then obviously we are very different.  And not different in the "I like Macs, you like PCs" kind of way.  Different in that you like the worst music ever created and I don't.  And if you like the worst music ever created, then it is not negotiable, just like if you are a guy with diamond studs in his ears, we are simply never going to be friends.

And I am just fine with that.