The Pussycat Dolls and their collective right to live

I spent an unhealthy amount of time yesterday pondering the collective fates of the Pussycat Dolls.

What constitutes an unhealthy amount of time is debatable, of course. I probably spent about five minutes honestly thinking about it while on a run last night, followed by another five minutes thinking if it would be something worth writing about. All told, that's 10 minutes of thinking about the demise of a presumed one-hit wonder pop group with no redeemable social values, which is probably about 11 minutes too many.

Who are the Pussycat Dolls you ask? First off, I will laugh at your limited pop culture range, while simultaneously brooding my irreversible status as a 25-year-old jettisoned from the desired demographic of MTV culture. After that, I will explain that the Pussycat Dolls are a singing group of six reasonably attractive young women who have a hit song called "Don't Cha" on heavy rotation at MTV, Z-100 and the like right now. I suppose they are supposed to be the younger, cuter, American cousins of the Spice Girls, even if "Don't Cha" couldn't hold a candle to "Wannabe," "2 Becomes 1" or even "Spice Up Your Life" for that matter. I shouldn't know that.

It should also be noted that their name contains a slang word for female genitalia, which I'm 90 percent sure a really fat record executive with a pony tail and a big cigar (a.k.a. the guy from Wayne's World) came up with. Not really relevant here, but I thought it warranted mentioning.

So the Pussycats, comprised of Alpha Dog lead singer Nicole Scherzinger, Carmit Bachar, Ashley Roberts, Jessica Sutta, Melody Thornton and Kimberly Wyatt, have this new song that more or less is the worst fucking thing I've ever heard.

Musically, I've heard sorrier summer Top 40 anthems. It's not going to be confused with Sugar Ray's "Fly" or any other summer classic but it ain't LFO's "Summer Girls" either. It kind of just cruises along for three minutes or so with a semi-catchy hook, aided greatly by a video that showcases the girls jumping around a lot and basically whoring it out. No problem there. Added bonus points for succeeding despite a superfluous and awkward Busta Rhymes cameo.

So musically and visually, you could do worse. But then there are the lyrics...

Now I understand examining the lyrical content of a singing group that names themselves after their own private parts is akin to studying the acting habits of Mario Lopez, but this is something that had to be addressed and I doubt Kurt Loder or Greg T. "The Frat Boy" were going to touch this one.

Let's start from the top:

Baby ooooh
I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
Thats why whenever I come around
She's all over you (she's all over you)
I know you want it (I know you want it)
It's easy to see (it's easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be fucking me (babe)

Catchy, I know. Let's break this down. So you're a Pussycat Doll and you see some dude on the dancefloor that you decide you want to take home, presumably to bone. The guy's girlfriend sees you are flirting with him on the dancefloor, so the girlfriend understandable attempts to "mark her territory" if you will, by dancing closer on her man. That defense won't deter a Pussycat, however, who whisper sweet nothings into the ear of their prey in an effort to make the subject realize he "should be fuckin'" them. Very nice.

The chorus?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha

Okay. So if you're a straight dude, or a lesbian, or even a gay dude who watches Jessica on Laguna Beach, you know that 94 percent of women are inherently crazy. And crazy girls like the Pussycats are one of the reasons that normal girls become crazy. I mean, you have to be a pretty mean-spirited bitch to pick off some other girl's man right in front of her eyes. But only the most slutty and vindictive of these homewreckers will actually brag about it and turn it into a three minute pop song. Amazing.

I know she loves you (I know she loves you)
So I understand (I understand)
I probably be just as crazy about you
If you were my own man
Maybe next lifetime (maybe next lifetime)
Possibly (possibly)
Until then no friend possibly
Is a drag for me

A lover's lament? Hardly. The closing verse insinuates that if the Pussycat and her target, ahem, man, can't bang on this night, it ain't happenin'. The Dolls even pull the existential card, declaring a future hookup must wait until "next lifetime." That's some deep stuff. The Cats close shop by saying friendship is not an option. Fair enough.

And now back to my original point. Last night, I wondered if the Pussycats had actually sealed their fates by releasing such a overtly negative and nasty song for public mass consumption. I even toyed with the idea of whether or not they deserved to die for a song that re-inforces such hurtful behavior to millions of impressionable young girls. In retrospect, I may have been a little out of line even within the confines of my inner-monologue, but it warrants mentioning.

Don't worry about me though. Maybe I'm missing the whole point -- the "Pussycat Experience" if you will.

"We're the newest thing, man. We're a song-and-dance group, and it's not just another cookie-cutter group. It's just like our song says, we're 'Hot, Raw, Freaky and Fun,' " said the Alpha Dog Scherzinger. "I just think we're on the forefront of groups to come out. The Spice Girls weren't bad, but we're the newer version. So I guess it's not 'Girl Power,' it's 'Doll Power.' "

On second thought, I don't think I'm missing a thing. Please excuse me while I curl up on the couch and pop in my Ginger Spice solo album.

There's a Spice Girls reunion on the horizon, you know.