What is this, the 1950s all over again?
The Jonas Brothers are about as cutting edge as three hedgehogs.
Justin Bieber looks freshly born, except for the weird comb-forward.
And Miley Cyrus has the demeanor of a truckstop waitress, which I like, but she’s been drained of all sex appeal and turned into a chirpy slice of American cheese.
That’s why I have to extra-love my girl Kesha.
She’s the new Britney, but even trashier.
Kesha–with a dollar sign for an ‘s’– snarls, rolls around in bowling lanes, scowls, rolls her eyes, and freely embraces her outer skank while singing and entertaining the crap out of me.
She holds a mirror up to my very soul!
Thank you, Kesha. Blah blah blah.