Don't Stop (But Maybe You Really Should...)

Been listening to an awful lot of Internet radio lately...which means that new artists are constantly bombarding me. Alternative artists, pop artists, crappy R&B artists. We listen to it all at work.

Which is how I first heard Ke$ha's "TiK ToK."

Bad spelling and horrible punctuation aside (along with disregarding the money sign in her name), as infectious as the beat and chorus are...there are quite a few problems that I do have with the song...and they all reside in the lyrics.

Lyrics in Question:

Wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy.
Okay, first of all, if you're waking up and feeling like P. Diddy, I'm extremely worried. Unless you really are P. Diddy. If he woke up as, say, Britney Spears, then I'd be worried about him. But Ke$ha (God, it makes me cringe to write her name that way), you're about as far away from P. Diddy as you can get. You have a vagina. You're nearly albino (I think. I don't feel like Googling photos of her right now). You don't really rap. I'm not sure what it is that I'd call your music. Speak singing, I guess. More singing, but definate speaking. But not rapping.

Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack.
Now, I know this is Jack Daniels. And that's disgusting. Is she like dipping the toothbrush into a bottle of whiskey? Or just swigging it? Because either way, I really don't think that her dentist or the ADA are going to be thrilled that she's advertising such horrible dental practices.

Boys blowing up our phones, phones.

Clearly she's hanging out with the wrong boys. If the group of guys that I was around was blowing up my phone, I'd be pissed.

Trying to get a little bit tipsy
Shouldn't be a problem if you're brushing your teeth with Jack Daniels.

And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger.
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger.
For real? Mick freaking JAGGER? That's who she's looking for?! Oh the friggen disappointment.

Boys tryin' to touch my junk, junk.
Um. Junk as in you're not really a girl kind of junk? Or junk like old tuna cans and Popsicle sticks?

The song then goes on to turn into a love song pretty much to the DJ. Which I don't get. She has all the above wonderful lines and then it's all about how she likes the song that the DJ is playing. I don't get it.

I don't get what it takes to make it to radio airplay.

And I don't get why they put these songs to such infectious beats so that I won't quit listening to them.

I'm screwed.