Nothing But Rants
Telling you why things suck since 2012. A Cliff Reinitz blog.

I Say

So it happens that there’s a little song which is apparently muy popular among teh yung peoplez.  It’s called “Who Says” and it’s sung by a young Disney moppet named Selena Gomez.  I am linking the music video of the song, because I hate you after what you did to my dog.

That’s right, that’s what you get.  Poor Fluffers still hasn’t recovered.  Anyway:

Like most pop music today which is aimed at teenage girls, we have a repetitive, simple, semi-catchy melody wrapped around lyrics that are more chock-full of “empowerment” than your average Take Back the Night rally.  Unfortunately, the lyrics are also deeply stupid, even where they’re not contradicted by actual facts.

Example:  “I’m no beauty queen,” sings the girl who recently posed for the cover of Cosmopolitan.  I mean, okay, she’s smokin’ hot* (and Latina, so bonus points there), so it’s not like I’m complaining that she leaps off the magazine rack and assaults my eyes during my weekly visit to the grocery store.  Still…you’re no beauty queen?  Yeah, because Cosmo gives equal time to bowsers on their cover.  Elena Kagan is up next month, I think.

Example:  “You’ve got every right to a beautiful life.”  What the hell does that mean?  If I have a right to something, then that means I have a claim against another person or group of people.  My right to free speech means I can demand that you let me speak freely.  If I really have “every” right to a beautiful life, who the hell do I petition to make my life less crappy, and less filled with people who play this song and mistreat my dog?

But my favorite part is the shit contained in the chorus and the bridge.  That’s really why I’m writing this post, to answer the series of fucking stupid questions Gomez poses.

So, Selena and all her fans:  I say.

I say you’re not perfect.  Nobody’s perfect.  Some of us are smokin’ hot Latinas, which is about the closest you can get to perfect, but even those of us who are have flaws.  Like singing this song.

I say you’re not worth it.  Judgments of worth are subjective.  If I say you’re not worth it, then it’s because you’re not from my perspective.  And I don’t care one damn bit that it hurts your self-esteem.  Get over it.  For similar reasons, I can say you’re not pretty or beautiful or whatever.  Again, get over it.

I say you’re not star potential.  For one thing, a person can’t be potential of any kind; they can have it, but they can’t be it.  For another thing, it’s probably just a fact.  I don’t have star potential either.  No skin off my ass.

And that goes for everything else too, just to cut to the chase.  I say you’re not star potential.  I say you’re not presidential.  I say you don’t pass the test.  I say you can’t be the best.  I said, I said, I’m gonna tell you I said that.  Because it’s most likely true.  And the sooner you face up to that, the better.

What makes me really hate this self-righteous piece of drivel, though, is that most teenage girls who listen to this song and believe in it are being spoon-fed false hope.  Tonight, somewhere in this great country of ours, some fourteen-year-old girl, pimply-faced and overweight and in the early stages of diabetes, is going to be watching this music video.  She’s going to see a freakishly beautiful pop star who not only won the genetic lottery, but who has a professional team of beauticians and costumers standing by to enhance her natural hotness to the point where she could break Helen of Troy’s ship-launching record.  She’s going to see that pop star artfully strolling across a perfectly-lit industrial cityscape in a ball gown and bare feet — though she’s not going to see all the blood pouring from the pop star’s feet because she’s walking across broken glass, and she’s not going to see the lockjaw that will develop from the tetanus the pop star is picking up from all the rusty shards of metal next to the broken glass.  She won’t see that because this is Selena-World, and those things don’t exist there.

What she’s going to see, in other words, is an already-stunning natural beauty with the benefit of artificial enhancements, one of the few people in the world who actually can be in movies (listen to me, listen to me).  And the message she’s getting from the song is not “I can be anything I wanna be” (which would still be a horrible lie to tell the girl).  No, the message she’s getting is “I can be that.  I can be her.”

And that’s just fucking sick.


* She is now over 18.  I can comment on her smokin’ hotness legally.


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