I don’t understand why they’re so upset. I’m no fan of tattoos, but they’re everywhere these days, so it just follows that they wouldn’t be the exclusive territory of Bratz. Admittedly, the “Ken” tramp stamp in the picture is kind of tacky, but you have to admit, the two of them have been together long enough that it’s hardly surprising.

Besides, these are removable tattoos, so if Babs ever dumps Ken in favor of G.I. Joe, she won’t even have to worry about getting the thing lasered off.

And it’s not as if Barbie’s gone and gotten herself pierced in the nipples or the genitals. Then again, you can’t pierce what you don’t have.

Personally, I find this tattoo controversy particularly hypocritical because people seem to be ignoring a far more serious issue. Take a closer look at Barbie’s back, above the tattoo.

She’s been branded!

Being a vidiot, my favorite drinking games have always involved the eye of hell. Being a vidiot and a Bob, my all-time fave would have to be Hi Bob.

I’ve just come up with a drinking game of my own, and it’s not unlike Hi Bob, which took advantage of the fact that a certain phrase showed up rather a lot in the scripts for Bob Newhart’s sit-coms.

Think about it — what’s on the eye of hell all the time these days, and what phrase does one hear repeated over and over?

I think you may have already figured it out based on the image above. The name of the game is My Friends, and the rules are just like those of Hi Bob: whenever McCain intones that famous phrase, everyone has to down a shot. Be warned, however, that when Johnny Mac is having particular trouble dealing with the text of his speech, he may say it fairly often. In fact, I’ve heard him throw it into a single sentence as many as three times. It’s apparently his version of “um.”

Because of this, the game is often kind of short.

That got me thinking: is that one word or two? And couldn’t it be mushed together into a portmanteau, like “Obamania”?

So I ran a few searches (just Google, I’m afraid — I’ve got work to catch up on today), and looked at the number of results to see which version is most popular. Here’s what I got:

• “Obama Mania” – 25,800
• “Obamania” – 27,100
• “Obamamania” – 125,000

By the way — apparently none of the three has enough search volume to give me any results at Google Trends, but I’ll check back in a week or two. As Obamamania (or whatever you want to call it) grows, I have a feeling the search volume is going to get cranked up a notch or two.

Dear American Politician,

What’s that I see on your lapel? It looks like a pin of some sort. Oh, I see. It’s an American flag pin. What’s it for? I think everyone already knows you’re an American. You really don’t need to remind us.

Oh, I think I get it. You want people to know that you’re patriotic, right?

It’s awfully small, though. Are you saying you’re just a little patriotic? Are you trying to be subtle? This is America, remember?

If you’re going to wear Old Glory, you should make a point of making it more noticeable than you are. Wrap yourself up in a big flag. Cover your face. A true patriot knows that the only thing we need to know about their identity is that they love America. Anything less says the opposite.

Your tiny pin mocks this great nation.

Traitor.

Hat tip to Brand Infection.

The first step in saving Breeeeeeeeeee is getting her to that party. She’ll get to see that there’s a whole world out there, full of peers who’ve all seen her videos but will act like they haven’t in order to further confuse the audience.

And maybe she’ll get lucky at the party. That is to say, she might hook up with these two

Thank you, TV in Japan. You may have saved a life.

I wonder, could anything be worse than a work of art that was spit out based on some algorithm? I’m not talking about experimental music that’s based on math, or randomly-generated collections of sounds. I mean a pop song. I think there might be one worse way to create a song: a focus group.

Imagine a group of people randomly selected from among the shoppers at a mall somewhere in deepest Nebraska. They’re sat down at a big table with notepads, snacks and drinks. At one end of the room is a mirror taking up nearly the whole wall, and behind that wall is the marketing team for some new “artist”. The focus group members are given the following instructions: if you were a young African American, living in a poor neighborhood of Los Angeles, what would you think about? What would be important to you? How would you have fun? Just shout out anything that comes to mind.

What would be the result of such an exercise? Assuming at least a few of the people were under 50, had seen a few minutes of MTV, Boyz n the Hood or a similarly-themed film, you’d end up with a list of clichéd buzz words — something like this:

• party
• 40
• homeys
• yo
• hood
• gang banger
• drive-by
• get paid
• raise your hands in the air and wave them like you just don’t care
• South Central
• flava
• old school
• O.G.
• mack
• wannabe
• playa

This would quickly be processed into something like…

This is how we do it
(This is how we do it)
La la la la la la la
La la lo lo lo lo oh
(This is how we do it)
La la la la oh

This is how we do it, it’s Friday night
And I feel all right
The party’s here on the West side
So I reach for my 40 and I turn it up
Designated driver take the keys to my truck
Hit the shore ’cause I’m faded
Honeys in the street say, “Monty, yo we made it!”
It feels so good in my hood tonight
The summertime skirts and the guys in Kani
All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by
You gotta get your groove on, before you go get paid
So tip up your cup and throw your hands up
And let me hear the party say

I’m kinda buzzed and it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
Let’s flip the track, bring the old school back (This is how we do it)

This is how we do it, all hands are in the air
And wave them from here to there
If you’re an O.G. mack or a wanna-be playa
You see the hood’s been good to me
Ever since I was a lower-case G
But now I’m a big G, the girls see I got the money
Hundred dollar bills y’all

If you were from where I’m from then you would know
That I gotta get mine in a big black truck
You can get yours in a ’64
Whatever it is, the party’s underway
So tip up your cup and throw your hands up
And let me hear the party say

I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
Ooh South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
Let’s flip the track, bring the old school back (This is how we do it)
I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does, nobody does (This is how we do it)
YNV, SCC, (This is how we do it) all my homies
I’ll never come wack on an old school track (This is how we do it)
Check it out!

Once upon a time in ’94
Montell made no money and life sure was slow
All they said was 6’8″ he stood
And people thought the music that he made was good
There lived a D.J. and Paul was his name
He came up to Monty, this is what he said
You and OG are gonna make some cash
Sell a million records and we’ll make in a dash

Oh I’m buzzing because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
I’ll never come wack on an old school track (This is how we do it)
I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does, nobody does (This is how we do it)
Oh it’s party time (This is how we do it)
Straight up comin’ from the West side (This is how we do it)
OG’s got the flava, yeah (This is how we do it)
And Monty doesn’t like nobody, doesn’t (This is how we do it)
Come on now, Def Jam, you know what it (This is how we do it)
This is how we do it (This is how we do it) baby

Yes, it’s more than ten years old, but I wasn’t blogging when it came out.