Every Spice Girl wants to be Mariah Carey. What’s up with that? Why can’t you just take your paycheque and go home thankful that you have an easy job and you are not the guy who removes the polyps from the intestines of livestock?
A local singer—I won’t say her name, it has been spoken so much that it’s all worn out by now—had a bad week. She is one of many singers we have in Uganda who use that job title the way Hugh Laurie may use the title MD.
Hugh Laurie is not really a doctor. He just plays one on TV. In the same way, many of these women are not singers. They just pretend to be singers on TV.
They go on, lip synch to a track that has been heavily computer-processed so that you don’t really notice whatever limitations the voice has on it, and they dance and be sexy on the screen and then go home with a cheque.
One particular singer, however, didn’t do it like that. She got up on a stage at a cultural arts festival—which are known to teem with real musicians, men and women singing live with actual keys and notes falling in the correct places—and where one of the most popular acts was performing, took the mic and, according to testimony, sucked.
Since then we have been having a party coming up with mean jokes that I am sure will hurt her if she gets to hear them. It is very cruel of us.
But it is also a lot of fun. For example, you don’t know how badly I want to photoshop up a fake CD album cover and say her latest album is rated STFU.
Yeah. The more semi-obscure, the more fun.
But then I remember the day I found myself within four feet of her, at one of those socialite functions I sometimes flit into by virtue of my profession (I am a waiter) and felt, no mincing words, felt guilt.
I felt terrible for being part of the torture and harm inflicted upon this poor, frail, tiny, awesome-legged human being.
Now, if this was Beiber, or Kingston, or Gaga I would not have these pangs. Those fools are rich and have fans in the millions. They can afford a few disses and if Lady Gaga is upset that I think she’s been touched in the head by something heavy and swift or that she is somehow managing to play a magnificent practical joke on her own damn self, then really, fuck her.
But the aforementioned artist has no money. She has no fans. She’s just a girl with a dream (and fit legs) and it does not seem right that we should continue to attack her in this way.
So I urge, cease this please. For the sake of fairness, kindness, heart. Let us not make any more Rachel K jokes.