* With all due respect to the memory of the late Lisa Lopes, who was, when all is said and done, rather fit

'No Scrubs' by TLC - Is This The Most Evil Song Ever Written?

Quite possibly.
Here are some of the lyrics:

I don't want no scrub
A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me
Hanging out the passenger side
Of his best friend's ride
Trying to holler at me...

If you don't have a car and you're walking
Oh yes son I'm talking to you
If you live at home with your Momma
Oh yes son I'm talking to you
If you have a shorty but you don't show love
Oh yes son I'm talking to you
Wanna get with me with no money
Oh no I don't want no scrub

No scrubs
No scrubs, whoah
Away with you, you beastly scrubs

As you can see, a paraphrase of this song might run as follows:

We are whores
We only get the hots for blokes with German cars
We are whores, yes, we are proud to be whores

In TLC's satanic worldview, an idealistic young poet or social worker unable to afford a car would be a 'scrub', likewise a devoted son patiently caring for some drooling invalid mother. But some depraved drug-dealer or politician with a stretch limo, who only visits his grieving, white-haired old Mum in order to punch her in the face for old times' sake, is an eligible sexual partner.
I will not even comment on the line 'If you have a shorty', save to say that, while we men have our flaws, we never judge women by the size of their genitals.
No scrubs, indeed! We have come a long way from 'I Love You Porgy.' How would Porgy fare with TLC? I suspect he would be shit out of luck. There should be another verse to make their position crystal clear:
No cripples
No traumatized veterans
No thalidomide victims
Oh, and no mongoloids, thankyou very much,
    unless he's very rich, in which case I might
    let him buy me furs, but I probably wouldn't let
    him fertilize my precious eggs
God I love being a whore

I find TLC's criteria of manhood shallow in the extreme and personally hurtful. I myself have no job, live with my parents, and do not own a car. Consequently, when I go out I have to bum a ride from my best friend, Donald. As his girlfriend usually accompanies us and sits next to him, I am forced to sit in the back seat, leaning forward eagerly between them; I imagine to an observer we often resemble a Mummy and Daddy going for a day out with their rather hydrocephalic child. On occasion as we pass females I wind down the window and 'holler' some cheery invitation for them to come and sit on my knee. Well, TLC can rest assured that I will NOT be extending that invitation to them!
And yet I am lovely, and would make a dog-like and devoted husband.

'Was It For This The Clay Grew Tall?'

'Wanted: a soulmate to scale the heights of passion and voyage to the end of eternity with. Must have car.'

Surely there must be more to romance than some brazen scramble for the most socially valued genes as exemplified by the ability to get a BMW?

There was a time not so long ago when soul artistes could be heard to sing things like this:

My man's a loser
He can't get a job
He drinks and gambles and exposes himself to nuns
He smells bad and he beats me like a gong
He would stick his dick into the toaster if there were no women around
But I love him

Whatever happened to that kind of loyalty and compassion?
Calculating shrews like TLC are the reason many heterosexual men wish they were gay. Gay men have taken over the nurturing, solace-giving role modern women refuse to perform. Who would you rather come home to: Lisa 'Left-Eye' Lopes brandishing a rolling-pin and snarling, "Where's your fucking pay-packet? Is that all? Didn't you get promotion yet? You fucking loser. And by the way, I burned the house down,"? Or Harvey Fierstein, in an apron and smelling of flour from the pie he'd been baking for you, hugging you and croaking, "Did you have a hard day, honey? Did that pig of a boss bully you? Take the day off tomorrow and let me look after you,"? I know which I'd choose.

TLC are in league with the devil, priestesses of the foul new order where the only measure of a man is his economic value. The fact is that 'scrubs' and losers are the only nobility left in this shitty world. Anyone who earns more than 10,000 pounds a year has sold out to the multinational corporations who enslave mankind. The only way to succeed today is to lie, cheat, steal, murder, betray yourself and others, exploit the Third World and poke kittens in the belly with sharp sticks (see Vance Packard on corporate bonding rituals). Losers are not lazy or stupid, we are morally superior to the rest of you. The horrendous eugenic mating practices of the likes of TLC are ensuring that kindness and gentleness will be bred out of the race by the year 2100.

TLC are the sort of stupid cows who defend Clinton. "He's a successful man, a great man...it's a privilege to have him come in my mouth." Emily Pankhurst, look on your daughters and weep.

They deserve to have Clinton stuff their heads into his fat fetid crotch and then bury them in an Arkansas limepit. A more likely fate is that they will become the trophy wives of corporate Nazis and end up fat, bloated alcoholics, befuddledly trying to seduce the poolboy (probably a Mongolian tribesman, if my memory of immigration trends serves) while their husbands are off talking about cars on golf courses or banging younger, fresher harlots in the company of some Latin American torturer who keeps Chico Mendez's bollocks on his mantelpiece. I pray for their souls.

TLC? Tender Loving Care? Treasure-Loving Courtesans, more like!

That's all I have to say on this subject.

* Thankyou to the 37,592 people who e-mailed me to point out that 'shorty' means 'wee child' rather than 'fashionably compact and non-threatening cock.'

Thankyou also to the 83,794,869 people who e-mailed after them to say, no it doesn't, it actually means girlfriend.

To the 23,000 people who will doubtless now mail to disagree with both and say that in point of fact in means 'pet midget', don't bother.

(Originally posted Sept 1999)