Believe

For the last month or so, I’ve tried to avoid writing about the phenomenon taking place in popular culture right now.  Frankly, I hate the hype which wraps itself around popular culture because it serves to elevate it’s subjects to heights I consider to be less than deserved.

 

Yeah I know, but it is what it is.

 

So Jennifer Hudson has overcome some major obstacles in recent years.  Good for her.  I wish her the best.  In addition, she’s lost some weight and has turned it into an endorsement deal.  She obviously hasn’t utilized the rigid practices outlined in the TharpSter PounDown.  Once again, good for her.

 

W-T-F

Last year, I penned a rant and posted it here on TharpSter.Org which flamed the ongoing assault on good taste and geometry which continues to litter the Super Bowl half time show.

 

In that rant, I suggested that the Super Bowl half time show has become grade A quality crap as a result of bad sound engineering, it’s continued failure to deliver bang for the buck, and it’s pathetic attempts to cross-pollinate the demographic with artists from one genre butchering the work of another.

 

Obviously the savants behind the big show failed to read  what I had to say about the matter.  Madonna is slated for this year’s show.  About 20 years ago when she was at the height of her popularity, I’m pretty sure I made the prediction back then that the booking of her to play a Super Bowl would be a key indicator that the end of the world was on it’s way.  Combine that with the Mayan’s prediction that the we won’t see Christmas this year, I think the stars are starting to line up.

 

Back to Jennifer Hudson.

 

In her current campaign, Jennifer belts out her own version of the song “Believe”.

 

It’s a beautiful song.

 

The Lenny Kravitz version of the same song is the one that resonates with me.

 

The Jennifer Hudson version reminds me of that time I had root canal, only without the dulcet melodies produced by the high speed drill excavating one of my molars.  How it is that an artist with  the pipes to make it to the finals in American Idol, only to belt out that auditory assault for the purpose of weight loss is beyond me.

 

There.  I said it.

 

Now that I have, I have no other choice than to break up the desire to puncture my ear drums generated by that particular campaign, and post the better version.

 

Enjoy.

 

 

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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