Tuesday, October 7, 2014

The Earworm Malady

There is almost never a moment where there's not some song going through my head.  Sometimes it's a song I like and I cure the earworm by just digging out the song and listening to it all the way through a whole bunch of times- like last week when I had Black Skinhead on about a three day earworm loop.  Other times it's horrible - like the roughly three month period last year when I could not stop hearing Robin Thicke telling some poor girl (whom I think we can safely assume has profound daddy issues) that she knew she wanted it (it is a scientific fact that the only way to scrub the ick of that song out of your brain is to listen to Prince telling you that women not girls rule his world, simply rule his world).

But as repulsive as I think Blurred Lines is (and I think it is really just so very gross), it's been worse this week.  Do you guys know this song "Rude"(don't click on that link if you don't know the song. SAVE YOURSELF!) by the band Magic this is never not on some pop music station?  Here's the chorus:

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life
Say yes say yes, cause I need to know
You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die
Tough luck, my friend, but the answer is no

Why you gotta be so rude?
Don't you know I'm human too
Why you gotta be so rude
I'm gonna marry her anyway (anyway)

Oh. My. God.  Hold on - I need to find a gif:

It is the year of our Lord 2014 and it is still (STILL!) somehow part of our general cultural understanding that fathers get to decide who their daughters marry.  This is a song where only potential husbands and fathers get to be human.  The girl in between them might as well be wrapped up in a big old red bow holding a title exchange document in her teeth.

Lookit: before Don proposed he called my parents (parents, note, not father) and asked for their blessing (blessing, note, not permission).  But, sweet as his intentions were, can we just agree that it's time for this tradition to end? It's a terrible tradition. It is sexist and horrible.  It is worse than Blurred Lines.  Let it die.

When you are raising your daughter, you have many years to impart life lessons to her. Teach her to avoid debt and to brush and floss every day.  Teach her to be kind and how to change a tire and hard boil an egg. Make sure she is computer literate and that she is aware of all the cultural influences in our lives, from the Bible to the Odyssey to Star Trek.  And, for crying out loud, teach her that if she decides to marry, the only people who get to decide whether or not this marriage will happen are her and the person she's marrying.  

Daughters are not things to be given away.  We really need to stop doing that.

Also, it's a fucking TERRIBLE song.  It is pablum.  It is bland and stupid.  And it is ALWAYS ON THE RADIO.  I need to get satellite radio, right?   

Don says the best way to cleanse an ear worm is with The Partridge Family.  I disagree.  Angry rap is much better palate cleanser.