Fish in a Barrel | December 2005

Snarky Humor: Madonna gets shiny, Jack White does Coke, Coke does him.

Hey there, FIAB readers—Melissa Etheridge here. | I don’t know if you’ve gotten any of my press releases, but I recently beat cancer—that’s right, carcinoma, the big C, the Great Attention-Getter. I assume that 95% of you are giving me a standing O right now, so I’ll pause for a sec and let you collect yourself… OK, thanks guys. You’re my inspiration, early detection is the key, and so forth. Now, for the other 5% who rolled their eyes: Guess what, bitches? I’ve got news for you: I’m untouchable. Go ahead and try to mock me—I’ll even help you out with some lyrics from my new single “I Run for Life”: “I run for hope/I run to feel/I run for the truth/for all that is real/I run for your mother, your sister, your wife/I run for you and me, my friend, I run for life.” Do you smell something? I think it’s that half-baked poetry! Ha! But if you so much as snicker, maybe quote a line in jest—suddenly you’re the dick in the room. Someone might even share their own boring-ass cancer experience with you. Ha! I’ve got a free pass, motherfuckers! I’ve wanted to get this haircut for years. Years! I’m a “wash ’n’ go” kind of gal, you know? But my agent kept telling me, “The red state-ers will stop buying your albums, Missy—it’s too butch.” Well go ahead and hate on the buzz cut now, Margie Midwest. I had cancer! Fucking cancer! You’ll be ostracized by anyone who ever bought a pink ribbon magnet at the gas station. And check out this pose—I know I look like an asshole! I’m screwing with ya, snarky bastards! I’ve gone mad with power! Mad! Next up: memoir! Muwhahahaha!

Madonna Chooses Shiny Things, High Disco Kicks Over Substance, We Act Surprised | Fashion alert: Running short on cute eras to “pay homage” to, Madonna’s taken to sporting a Studio 54–inspired look: feathered ’do complemented by sparkly hairnet, diamonds glued to eyelashes (well, where do you store your extra diamonds, plebes?), and crotch-accentuating purple spandex pantless unitard with superhero boots that could only exist in a godless, Tom Ford–less world. (We just realized that this look kind of reminds us of that lady who hosts the morning calisthenics show on PBS—possible root of our anger?) Listen, Madge, let’s snip off that Kabbalah string and get real: Is Studio 54 really tribute-worthy? Even the splashiest of the flamboyant now avert their eyes from a place where Liza with a Z popped pills and orgied up with Joel Grey and Truman Capote. Also, you were already a part of the 54 scene toward the end of its heyday—do you grasp the tragedy of going retro with a look that you already wore? But we’re being shallow—let’s instead focus on the songs, like future single “I Love New York”: “I don’t like cities, but I like New York/Other places make me feel like a dork…If you don’t like my attitude, then you can eff off/Just go to Texas, isn’t that where they golf?” Um, we haven’t seen the liner notes for the album, but here’s hoping that Lourdes wrote that. And yes, we hate ourselves just a little bit for giving Madonna exactly what she wants—more press—but at least we’ve managed to ignore Gwen Stefani’s deeply offensive “ghetto fabulous” look. No promises for 2006, though.

Federline Leaks Rap Lyrics, Validates This Column’s Moniker | Remember birthdays when you were a kid? How after you opened the presents and your friends went home, you just kind of sat there dazed, not able to choose the first toy to play with? Yeah, that’s how the leaked snippet of Kevin Federline’s rap single “Ya’ll Ain’t Ready” (insert your own “No, we certainly weren’t” joke here) makes us feel. Where the fuck do we start? The Casio-keyboard-rhumba-setting backing track? Fucking awesome. His disastrous poor man’s Eminem/Kid Rock/Crazy Town vocal stylings (shugah, baby), complete with random sibilant “s”? Outstanding. That this is what he’s been spending all his time on while Brit pooped out a kid? Classic. But really, if you want to know, it’s the lyrics that make us happiest. Much like the times when we’re tempted to simply print Fred Durst’s most recent blog entry verbatim and call it a column, we would love to share the entire work with you here. Sadly, that wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the people who acted like assholes this month, so here’s but a small sampling: “I know you wish you was in my position/’Cause I keep getting in situations that you wish you was in, cousin/’Cause I’m not your brother/Not your uncle/I ain’t your daddy too/Stepping in this game and you ain’t got a clue/My prediction is that ya’ll gonna hate me/And this style that we create straight 2008/Back then they called me K-Fed/But you can call me ‘Daddy’ instead.” Word.

White Agrees to Buy World a Coke, Considers Chucking Mountain Dew Can at World’s Face | So Jack White has reportedly gone the way of Elton John, Ray Charles, and several dead movie stars by signing on to shill for Coca-Cola. White has admitted to being a lifelong Coke enthusiast (ahem), calling the beverage “the greatest drink ever made by man.” Oh really? Forgetting a little something called apple juice? Anyway, White recently confirmed the rumor, which began circulating in August (we decided to hold off reporting until we could be sure this wasn’t another disappointing “Janet Jackson has a kid!” false alarm), that he composed a new song to be used in a worldwide Coke marketing campaign. No word on when this thing will air or whether the White Stripes will appear in the ads, but in our heads it goes a little something like this: Wide shot of Jack addressing a band of smiling, red-costumed soldiers, bottles of Coke in hand. He is amassing a seven-nation army…of refreshment. Meg can march in the back and bang a drum, as long as she doesn’t sing. Goddamn, we’re good at this. Drink up, kids.

Public Service Announcement: Viewing Trapped in the Closet Prevents Your Dying in Vain | Are you looking for a purpose or direction in life? Something your shitty relationship, poor-quality H, and mid-level marketing job have somehow failed to provide? Put down that Bible, losers—FIAB has the answer. We recently took the initiative to rent the DVD of this chef-d’oeuvre—many laughed at us, some simply stared with mouths agape, but we knew we were on to something when we saw cover art featuring the major players in various states of soap-opera tableau. And friends, R. Kelly never disappoints. Is it hyperbole? Satire? DSM-IV categorized mental illness? Who cares? It made us want to live! We won’t ruin your personal “Closet Experience” by giving too much away…OK, a midget stripper craps his pants. (Right now, poor dignified Peter Dinklage is throwing his hands up in defeat.) And don’t worry if you haven’t gotten your fill when the final line is delivered (“That ho was me!”), because Kelly plans to continue this life-affirming work on the stage and/or in your local multiplex. So, in conclusion, experience TitC and waste no more time “fearing the reaper.” Good day.

| The above are the opinions of Fish in a Barrel, and not necessarily those of the editors of PLAYBACK:stl. Just the funny ones. And the ones who were outbid on eBay for a yarmulke from Brett Gurewitz’s 1975 bar mitzvah. Contributors: Kimberly Faulhaber, Sarah Lenzini