You know what’s fun? Having to explain why I’m not particularly enthused by Katy Perry.

I have to admit, right here and now, that I do like some of her music. Yes, enough to put them on my iPod. They’re a guilty pleasure, like potato chips and Angry Birds. But I don’t really understand her existence. You know, fame-wise.

I don’t understand how she can sing a song called “UR So Gay” on one album (all the while insisting that it’s not gay-gay but stupid-gay, which makes it totally better) and then she dons a blue wig and starts singing about how one should celebrate their uniqueness and suddenly she’s The Next Gay Anthemist. I don’t understand how you can go from one end of the spectrum to the other without any transitory period whatsoever. Using that logic, Mel Gibson is one decent Lethal Weapon sequel away from being totally forgiven.

Or maybe not, because it’s universally bad to hate on Jews, but still socially acceptable to use one’s sexuality as an insult. Which I also find interesting. Because who decides that? Who goes, “Well, it’s not, y’know, nice, but it’s not something for everyone to get their panties in a wad over. Chill out, man! Just try not to do it again.”

I guess, ultimately, I find it fascinating that there is a facet of society that is allowed to function with a complete lack of accountability as long as they do something moderately entertaining. Maybe one day this blog will give me enough fame to finally come out of the shadows and have the world embrace my penchant for day drinking and loudly telling dead baby jokes.

Don’t judge. ‘Cause baby, I’m a firework.