Brothers and sisters! In this day and age, sex and money rule our popular culture and society. We want more, more, more: more money, more girls, bigger boobs, better asses, bigger cars, the list goes on. With our population geared towards these goals, it cannot be surprising that these same ideologies of the new American Dream are spoon- fed to the children of this generation in the form of overt sexual references, examples of the new "bling-bling" ideal, and style-over-substance imagery in movies, fashion, and most directly, music. When twelve and thirteen-year-old girls are wearing thong underwear and tons of make-up, it cannot be surprising that pedophilia and abuse towards women are a seemingly rising statistic. However, this is not the focus of my argument. Music, as a whole, has become a medium to make money. Long gone are the days when record labels developed up-and-coming bands until they made their best records like the Beatles-Revolver and Sergeant Pepper, and the Rolling Stones-Exile on Main. Now the focus is on the "hit record" that sells several million copies. Bands that don’t make that first top-selling album are quickly dropped in record label "house cleaning." With that said, there is a band out there right now that has written the worst song ever. That’s correct, EVER!!! And it’s on the radio all the time. This shows me that our popular music has gone straight to hell. And nothing short of a miracle is going to save it.

This song was written presumably by the band themselves because no professional songwriter could write this piece of trash and be happy with the end result, saying to him or herself, "Wow, this is going to be a hit record!" Now before I get into the song itself, it is important that we take into account the men responsible for creating this filth. Puddle of Mudd is four gentlemen by the names of Wes Scantlin (vocals, guitar), Doug Ardito (bass), Paul Phillips (guitar), Greg Upchurch (drums). They grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, Concord, Massachusetts, Jacksonville, Florida, and Kingston, Oklahoma respectively. Why do I bring this up you ask? Well think about it. Bands are usually from somewhere in particular, being that they all grew up together or were friends in college or something like that. These men "formed" in Los Angeles. A little suspicious, isn’t it? That’s because the band didn’t actually form until after they had a record deal. There was no band when the record deal was signed. You see Mr. Scantlin passed on a demo of Puddle of Mudd material (from a previous incarnation of the band) onto Fred Durst. You all know Mr. Durst as being the singer/rapper of the rap/metal band Limp Bizkit, responsible for several other "worst song ever" candidates, though not the worst. Fred, being the entrepreneur that he was, decided that these tracks could make him money. So he signed Puddle of Mudd to his newly established Flawless Records label. But there was no band. So Mr. Durst and Mr. Scantlin decided to form one in Los Angeles. And that’s exactly what they did. And by the way... Puddle of Mudd? That has got to be the worst band name ever, actually scratch that, Spandau Ballet is the worst band name ever. And what’s with the extra "D"? Why is it there? Does it stand for "Don’t buy this record or see this band, whatever you do"?

Now that you know the band’s background, let’s get deeper into the real subject of this literature. The fatal song’s name is "She Hates Me." Sounds like a pretty basic title. Not a great name for a song, but lots of song names hardly hint at the real integrity of a song, consider "Suedehead" by Morrissey. But as soon as the opening chords start, you begin to sense that something isn’t right. That E-A-F#-B progression sounds like every other crappy, simple song you’ve ever heard. And that’s not to say that all simple songs are crappy. But usually crappy songs have a formula that you can pick out. And the basic chord progression in this song is one of the most widely used in the genre of Crap. The following lyrics open the song: "Met a girl, thought she was grand/Fell in love, found out first hand/Went well for a week or two/ Then it all came unglued." First of all, does anyone ever think that someone is "grand," much less say it? And I simply find the absolute banality and unoriginality of the other lyrics as testament to the obvious amount of time and energy put into writing this song: five minutes at most I’d say. Then the chorus comes in. Prepare yourself to be intellectually challenged here. "She f------ hates me." Yep. They had to put in "f------" to make everyone listening feel like they can cuss for absolutely no reason. I’ve heard the word "f------" used in a beautiful way by Elliot Smith and the Red House Painters. It is essential to the song’s existence. This example doesn’t exactly lend itself to the real meaning of the song. Strike that, it does this song is "f------" horrible. Another example of this use of a dirty word for no apparent reason is in the next lines: "She was queen for about an hour/After that s--- got sour." For that last line alone, this song should be condemned from ever being created. If I were a record executive, I would hear that line and say, "There’s no way..." But I can see Fred Durst sitting in his office hearing that line and saying to himself, "S--- yeah!" S--- yeah, Fred. Thanks for okaying this piece of crap. "S--- got sour?" "S--- got sour?!" What?!?! I will not deal with this line further as too much thought on this line would cause severe hemorrhaging in my brain. To continue talking about the lyrics would be redundant, as it is obvious from my examples that the lyrics, to put it lightly, suck. I will only venture to say that there are more bad lines followed by a repeated "La la la love" that would make John Lennon spin in his grave and Paul McCartney die. Ringo wouldn’t be so lucky.

"She Hates Me" is a wretched song. The repetitive, boring, four-chord progression is repeated throughout the entire song, making any hope of salvaging this monstrosity absolutely impossible. The lyrics speak for themselves. Whoever "She" is that hates you, I wish she would just kill you already. The world would be a better place. So I say to you now, Unite Comrades! Together we will fell this corporate assembly line that is the music industry! Or die trying. Actually they’d probably just play "She Hates Me" over and over again once they captured us until our heads would explode.