Sir MixaLot

281x211We honestly have only a very vague idea of who Sir Mix a Lot is.  Something about jumping or getting on ‘it’ and that state capital song from the third grade.  He may be a reverend and we are pretty sure he resides in Seattle.  Didn’t he do something with that band with the song about peaches and Forrest Gump?  Pretty insignificant if not for “Baby Got Back.”

Countless good moods have been ruined by even a suggestion of that ‘bumbum bump bum’ bass line and the accompanying “I liiiiiike Big Butts . . .”  Even thinking about it long enough to type this is driving us a little bit batty. It’s a staple of that deplorable amateur-hour institution the 80’s night (oh we are very, very aware that chronologically it doesn’t make the cut, but the kids just love it, so you might as well throw it on) it brings to mind a room lit by black lights and a disco ball and 150 poli-sci majors raising their hands to the ceiling and shouting in unison “My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns hun.”  Wooo, indeed.

It would be easy to ignore the track if it were only confined to the above, easily avoidable situation but the song is so innocuous that every single wedding (hopefully a joyous celebration of friendship, family and love) we have ever attended has been disgraced with that piece of trash as if it were a flip side to the chicken dance.  Though we always hope to be able to use words to describe our rage sometimes they do fail us.  If this or this doesn’t start you shaking and uncontrollably swearing under your breath you probably have no business reading this blog.  It’s as if all of human cultural history has been erased by 4 minutes, 13 seconds.  We aren’t asking that you turn your wedding reception into an white-tie affair complete with cotillion, just have some fucking taste.  After all this is supposed to be the most important day of your life, perhaps you could refrain from freaking just this once.


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