I have no problem with Pink (the performer, although the color has its place as well). I'll tap my feet to "I'm Comin' Out". I just have one request:Please, leave Janis out of this. And if you have to do it, at least show some nipple! Your name's Pink, for God's sake! It seems performers can't rest on their own laurels any more, but feel the need to compare themselves to some lauded figure. Justin Timberlake as Elton John- now that makes sense.
Pink gets my "worst hair" prize, which I have never before given out but resembles a pile of dog crap mounted on a pedastal with a few spears of belgian endive coming out from around it. It falls somewhere between a mid-western tract home realtor and an alley pigeon.
She reminds me of every obnoxious teenager that never had a clue, got fired from a three day job at the supermarket, crashed her grandmothers car, and then got knocked up from her best friends drug addled boy friend. Yet through it all she manages to turn out one empty-headed generational anthem after the next, another jack-off screaming 'I'm here, look at me!,' a shrill, vulva-like beacon of mediocrity not unlike that bizzare eye thing in the lord of the rings.
Hey Phil, what's up? Yeah, you wouldn't know anything about screaming "I'm here, look at me!", would you?
I fell somewhere between a mid-western tract home realtor and an alley pigeon once. Best weekend of my life.