It’s times like this that I start to question my life choices. When it’s 4 AM and I’m trying to sleep and I start thinking crazy thoughts, I wonder if I’m making the right choice to pursue writing. It may be detrimental to my sanity. Consider the following:
I like to think that Nicki Minaj is the offspring of a horse and one of the clockwork men from the Doctor Who episode, “The Girl in the Fireplace.” But at birth she was adopted and raised by Ronald McDonald, and only recently realized that she was adopted. She came to this conclusion while looking in the mirror, at which point she began to berate herself for not realizing sooner. “You a stupid ho,” she said. “You a stupid ho.” Then she put a beat behind it, autotuned the hell out of it, and thus a new pop single was born.
This backstory is the only way I will ever accept that “song” as any sort of artistic expression of anything. If this isn’t what happened, then there is no reason anyone should consider it as anything other than crap.