playing with fire

Maybe it's the type of guy I am, but I love campy shit. The stuff that is so bad it's good, so uncool it's cool. Just last weekend I watched The Chipmunk Adventure because I love that sort of stuff from the era I was born in.

The along comes Playing With Fire, the by-product of a man who assumes - that procreating with what was 7 years ago the thing every man with dropped testicles wants to tap - warrants some fame.

It's easy to see why he's hated, and it is also easy to see how that hatred can spill over into other things he tries to do. That is why I decided to give Kevin Federline the benefit of the doubt. Holy crap.

It is comical the amount of flak this dude has copped from critics the world over. It's laughable to suggest that he'd have any future aspirations for another record, but we can keep our fingers crossed. The fallout from his woeful music, poor performances and narcissistic, bigoted lyrics is in the form of a crappy rating from me (suck on that!) where my previous worst was a 2.0 given to Blood Stained Love Story because of the sheer pain it caused me, with the next worst being a plethora of 3.0 offerings.

I choose to credit this junk with the comic value it derives. Knowing the fool that is spouting the lyrics just exasperates how tragically bad this is. Instead of listening with a scowl, I'll listen with a wry grin, knowing that he'll OD on the street somewhere in 20 years.