Last week, we all laughed at you, Rebecca Black. But this week?
This week, we're all in awe.
Now, we hope you don't think we're sucking up because we read in Forbes that you and Ark Music Factory stand to make more than $1 million from the iTunes downloads of "Friday," and another $20,000 or so from its YouTube version.
Congrats on making lemonade Cristal champagne out of lemons, but we didn't need news of your windfall to take you seriously.
See, we cannot get your song—the "worst song" of all-time—unstuck from our brains.
Someone says, "Yesterday was Thursday." We think, "Partying, partying—yeah!"
(And, please, don't ask what happens when we're asked to take a seat in a car.)
We sought help in a dose of "Friday I'm in Love," but suffered a relapse. In the post-"Friday" world you helped create, we found The Cure's explanation of the days of the week to be lacking. We found ourselves asking, what does "Friday never hesitate" mean anyway? Isn't "Yesterday was Thursday" actually clearer?
And you know what happened after we thought that thought? The endless loop started back up: "Partying, partying—yeah!"
So, kudos, Miss Black. We bow down.
We have decided that "Friday" is not the worst song ever. Rather, we have decided "Friday" is among the catchiest songs ever, right up—and down—there with "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" and the theme from Caillou.
In summation, we respect your earning power. We respect your hit-making power. And we beg your forgiveness, even though we never believed you to be the "worst singer" ever. (Thank to Glee, we never thought of you as the most Auto-Tuned ever, either.)
Now that we have humbled ourselves, we ask that you take mercy on us.
And use your powers of black magic to make that blasted song stop playing when we sleep. Or brush our teeth. Or breathe. Or…