Just before the ball dropped, some random generic talking-head newsbimbo was filling airtime spewing on to Carson Daly about how 2006 showed anything was possible for anyone, and spoke of the YouTube sale to Google that made the founders billionaires. I thought of good ol' K-Fed, a former unknown backup dancer who parlayed his marriage to a pantiless slut hack diva into to a, um, rap career-ish sort of non-career.
How can we truly have a "Rockin' New Year's" without K-Fed, symbol of 2006's empowerment of the common man, ringing it in with us? After all, as one of the 300 million people in America, he was Time Magazine's Man of the Year! He showed us that no matter how little talent you have, you can make yourself something if you just put as little effort as possible into it in this new era of talentlessness and undeserved fame and fortune. K-Fed should be front and center, threatening to go all Popozao on 2007's ass, screeching his inane lyrics over the Times Square PA system, reminding us that, no matter how much we deceive ourselves, it can get much, much worse.
Happy New Year. Word to your mother.
Showing posts with label k-fed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label k-fed. Show all posts
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
Winds of Change
Britney finally realized K-Fed is a loser!
Alas, poor K-Fed, we hardly knew ye. Well, we knew that you sucked, that your new album was possibly the worst thing ever committed to recording since Vanilla Ice told us to send acknowledgments to our mothers, and that you were pulling poor Brit down into the black hole of career doom. But asides from that, you were a mystery. A riddle, wrapped in an enigma, covered by a sideways trucker hat that would have gotten you shot by most of the people you thought were your audience.
And now, I'd like to ask for a moment of silence in honor of K-Fed's short-lived marriage and career.
No, wait. Silence isn't enough to mourn this deep loss. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elton John!
Goodbye Kevin Fed,
Though we never knew you at all
You had the nerve to put
Your hands in Britney's wallet (and on her goods).
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a no-good white trash poser
Never knowing how to sing
Or who to knock up next
And I would have liked to known you
And maybe straighten out your hat
Your money train ran out long before
Your Hollywood Squares appearances did.
Thanks, Elton. You really know how to capture a moment. Here's your fifty mil.
Alas, poor K-Fed, we hardly knew ye. Well, we knew that you sucked, that your new album was possibly the worst thing ever committed to recording since Vanilla Ice told us to send acknowledgments to our mothers, and that you were pulling poor Brit down into the black hole of career doom. But asides from that, you were a mystery. A riddle, wrapped in an enigma, covered by a sideways trucker hat that would have gotten you shot by most of the people you thought were your audience.
And now, I'd like to ask for a moment of silence in honor of K-Fed's short-lived marriage and career.
No, wait. Silence isn't enough to mourn this deep loss. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elton John!
Goodbye Kevin Fed,
Though we never knew you at all
You had the nerve to put
Your hands in Britney's wallet (and on her goods).
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a no-good white trash poser
Never knowing how to sing
Or who to knock up next
And I would have liked to known you
And maybe straighten out your hat
Your money train ran out long before
Your Hollywood Squares appearances did.
Thanks, Elton. You really know how to capture a moment. Here's your fifty mil.
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