In a fortnight filled with Robin Thicke commentary, we
figured it was only fair to follow the crowd with our own two cents. Here it
goes. The guy looks like the type to order bottle service in the club awaiting blow jobs from a pill popping bulimic, sings creepy songs and regularly grinds on
stage with anaemic tween pop idols. But, didn't the same ahem, “haterz”,
indulge in so-called “rape okay” anthem Blurred Lines? C’mon guys, Robin is a
big creep but whoever claims to have attended a dance floor to stand still in
protest of the “anti-fat-chick” vibes of Blurred Lines is a liar.*
 |
| Robin, not chilling with his wife. |
That^ featured on an album with sales of over 65,000.
Well, creep hunters, just
when you thought it couldn't get any worse the anatomically gifted Thicke released an entire album based on the collapse of his marriage. Now, weird
levels aside, this theme for the production of an entire album is always going
to end in disaster. It’s just common sense. Can you imagine the diabolical
sound produced if Ronnie Wood decided to roll out Jo: Sorry I slept with that waitress, The Album? It’s all
relative. Release date, artist or video treatments have nothing to do with it –
insulting the fans which Pharrell Williams tirelessly provided his leftovers to
produce for you however - does. Win those fans
back Mr.Thicke, and they’ll soon forget the overzealous ass grabbing followed by inter-flora deliveries to your estranged wife.
Here’s a collection of our favourite discussions elsewhere on
what shall now be creatively deemed “Robin Thicke-Gate part 99,999”
*Yes, generalisation. You’re so smart!
