Rihanna’s new music video Bitch Better Have My Money has all the elements of a successful composition. Rihanna’s tits. There’s a ton of shit in here I don’t understand. Who are the bitches? What have they done with the money? But I do understand this is miles better than the Britney Spears and Iggy Azalea music video which did not include Rihanna’s tits. The video is age gated on YouTube which means you must agree that you are eighteen to watch, which seems completely unfair to the dumbest ten percent of American middle schoolers. We could lament the state of modern popular music and how this could encourage the belief among young women that flashing their naked bodies is the only way for them to get ahead in life. Who wants to live in that world? Put your top back on, Madison. Girls can drive the Zamboni now.
Photo Credit: Rihanna “Bitch Better Have My Money”
According to HollywoodLife who takes banal stories and punches them up by way of anonymous sources and lots of exclamation points, Chris Brown was jealous when Rihanna and her new soccer boyfriend entered the same club he was partying at and started fooling around. Most guys love it when chicks who dumped them get their tits felt up by their happening new boyfriends. But not Chris Brown. According to HollywoodLife, he ‘stared’ and ‘fidgeted’, which are apparently action verbs. You never forget the feel of your knuckles compressing into the cheekbone of the first girl you ever loved enough to beat. This isn’t going away, Chris. But if you fuck another thousand models, the fidget should clear up. Rapper problems. Honestly.
Thanks to modern cell phone technology, we get a glimpse into what’s really been going on at Rihanna concerts. Rihanna calls up to the stage some untold line of male and female fans to grab her tits while she grinds on their pubes. Even in a decent sized venue you’ve got a good shot at Rihanna riding your privates until you front soil your shorts. I’d pay seventy bucks plus another twenty to Ticketmaster for that. I pay more at the local gentleman’s club and the girls working me over don’t own eight Grammy’s. This is like he local skate shop selling dank weed out of the back. You want business to be good, but not too good. Mediocre skate product is your best cover. Well played, Rihanna. I call next.
Rihanna wore a completely see-through outfit at the Met Gala after-party because you probably can’t name one of her albums, but you can probably trace her tits with your eyes closed. She’s a groundbreaking musical artist in the genre of being mostly naked. She was about the first celebrity to have her smart phone photos hacked. She didn’t give a shit. She turned it into gold. I think she’s smarter than you. I know she’s smarter than me. I’d hug her if I wasn’t afraid of Caribbean AIDS.
The Huffington Post is so ripe with click bait money they likely don’t think twice about shilling for brand sponsors without bothering to label their content as such. Since you follow Rihanna’s career closely, you’ll remember Puma took a break from shining Nazi memorabilia in their basement Hall of Honor to name Rihanna their creative director and global brand ambassador and also run their company snack shop on Tuesdays. Apparently, HuffPo was counting the days until the first ad campaign came out:
Ever since the singer inked a reported $1 million deal to serve as the brand’s global ambassador, we knew an epic ad campaign was in the works. And let us tell you, it does not disappoint.The Bajan beauty looks fierce as hell wearing a midriff-baring top, leggings and, of course, the company’s new Pulse XT sneakers. We’re not sure about you, but Riri looks so cool, we want to run to our nearest Puma store and buy the look.
I’m sure about me. Stop running commercials in the place of the banal content we’ve come to expect. Millennials need to form their baseless opinions somewhere and that somewhere is your low cost farm of millennials whose featured skill is zero hesitation in using the word ‘epic’ and ‘cool’ to describe a picture of Rihanna selling shoes. I stand with Morgan Freeman. Fuck the media. I’m canceling my subscription to everything but Jet.
Just 25-days ago America’s finest music makers were on a podium declaring the death of Spotify and Pandora and announcing the launch of Tidal, the true artist-fair music app. Kanye West, Madonna, that dude in the Mickey Mouse head, and Nicki Minaj got doe-eyed explaining how Tidal would cost only twice as much as its competitors so Madonna could afford a decent oneg shabbat spread for her Kabbalah cluster. That pretty much killed Tidal in the crib. Even Kanye’s hand upon Tidal couldn’t save that fucker. After a few downloads in the opening week, Tidal dropped off the bottom of the iPhone charts while Spotify and Pandora both had record signups thanks to a bunch of unlikable famous people talking shit about them. The enemy of my app is my friend. Displaying his unwavering loyalty, Kanye has removed the Tidal logo from his Twitter profile and retro-deleted every single Tweet he’d made about the service. Then he announced his won-loss record remains perfect. Memorial services for Tidal will be held later this week. Beyonce will sing a song she didn’t write and bitch about how she’s not getting songwriter royalties.