I believe I miscommunicated my intentions with a previous post. When I asked that you send me new music, I should have prefaced it by noting that I only want ya’ll to send me good music. Something just can’t be ign’t; it has to be jiggable and ign’t. It’s the difference between someone like Lil’ Boosie and this fool, Ken Dahl:
Now I hope the person who emailed me this didn’t think I’d actually enjoy this. Walk the plank? Who in the hell do you think I am? Captain Hook? Not only can I not get jiggy to this shit, I’m tempted to Google Ken Dahl to see if he was born in America. If not, well, don’t be surprised if you see a follow-up post about his deportation.
The first wrong thing about this video is that it starts off with a child and the words, “BITCH, BITCH, BITCH!”
That’s not OK. There had better be a tutor on set or at the very least, a copy of Hooked on Phonics.
Even worse is this goes on with a Pacman like graphic. Uh, Pacman is a legend and Ms. Pacman is video game world’s greatest bust it baby. To quote my NO homie, “Don’t do me that.”
There’s also the issue of his sunglasses, whom he obviously stole from a teenage girl. Or a queen who tries too hard. Whatever the case is, give those glasses back to that girl, sir.
Ugh, and then there’s this jig. What is he doing? There’s a choreographer listed on the YouTube page of this. I’d love for that person to answer. I mean, I was named after Michael Jackson but I can’t pop lock him so by no means am I waiting in the wings to be jumped by Omarion on MTV. Still, I can break these heauxs off if you give me a couple of drinks. That has to count for something, no?
That said, that side to side move combined with a Muhammad Ali impersonation won’t bring anything but a brawl inside of a club. Consider yourselves warned.
The one positive thing I have to say about this song is I enjoy the line: “No one got no where without taking the risk, without doing something different, without pushing the envelop.”
It’s unfortunate that it doesn’t apply to this song, though. This is very much in line with the school of thought that dictates that you can come up with any random beat and throw in a catch phrase and two step and – bam – fools will dance to in the club with no shame.
I count myself among said fools, however, you can’t just throw me any ole’ thing and expect me to throw my hood to it. Granted, this nonsense may be stuck in my head but the same can be said of the stomach virus I had at the beginning of the year.
Jig fail folks. Send me something else.
P.S. I see that this Ken person is on Twitter. I imagine he’ll be cursing me out by sunset. Follow me at @youngsinick if you don’t already.