Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Meet My Id

Meet my id:

I know!  He’s Cuban.  And probably a felon.  Who knew?
For the uninitiated, this is Pitbull, the libidinous, potty-mouthed rapper behind such cerebral hits as “Culo,” “Mr. Right Now,” and “Bon Bon.”
In my defense, I dare you to resist that last one.  Seriously.  Check it out:

Impossibly catchy, no?
Ah well, I don’t love it for the lyrics.
For a long time, I handled my Pitbull fascination like any other unseemly addiction—with shame, repression, bingeing, and denial.  I perked up surreptitiously every time one of his songs came on the radio. Turned the volume on my laptop down real low and watched his videos on YouTube.  Downloaded album after EXPLICT! Album on iTunes until that snitch “cloud” gave me away, dumping all of my stash into my daughters’ playlists and leaving me with some very uncomfortable explaining to do (“Leaving the game with a dirty Sanchez?” Really?  Thanks a lot, Mr. 305, I thought you had my back.)
Hello, my name is Erica.  I have a problem with Pitbull.
Eventually, I put my preoccupation on the couch and tried to shrink it.  I wondered if it was all about sex—the dude is a walking pelvic thrust.  But I don’t find him physically appealing.  And I am way too tired for “If you shave, I’ll give you some of this mighty tongue” to sound like anything but a threat.
I wasn’t sure it was really about the music, either.  I mean, it’s catchy, but not nearly enough so to justify the amount of time I spent listening to it, washing dishes, hanging laundry, just one ear bud in so I could still hear my kids if they needed me, really, I don’t have a problem, and it’s not like I missed work because of it…
And then I realized what it is.  Pitbull has no filter.  If he likes boobies, he says he likes boobies.  He doesn’t worry about what his boss will think when she hears that he likes boobies, or how his kids will roll their eyes about how juvenile he is, or whether the kids at school will tease them, or how he will ever pay for the decades of therapy his kids will someday need as a result.  He doesn’t lose sleep over whether boobie-liking will get him excommunicated from every future neighborhood potluck and the PTSA, too.  Pitbull, let me just go out on a limb here, doesn’t give a shit.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s one of his lyrics.
I (believe it or not) have a filter.  This isn’t necessarily bad.  A lot of what I’m filtering out doesn’t deserve to be shared.  It’s the stuff that’s reactionary, or reflexive, or offensive, and hey! Adulthood is all about impulse control.  There was a time, as I’m sure any of my previous employers or boyfriends would happily attest, when my filter wasn’t nearly fine enough.
But now, I have so many filters I’m feeling a mite smothered. 
Somehow I went from the girl who didn’t give a shit what anyone thought to the woman who can be paralyzed by what everyone will think. 
So maybe it’s no surprise that Pitbull is my id.  Authenticity is potent, even when it doesn’t get any deeper than “I like boobies!” 

What's starting to worry me is that he might be my super-ego.

(The only song on this album without the EXPLICIT! warning is Se Acabo, a celebration of Castro's demise.  There is actually a "clean" version of the album.  It must be all of 90 seconds long.)


  1. Justin Timberlake.

    1. mwahahaha really? Is JT *your* id, Kelly?

    2. It is very very possible. Who doesn't want to bring sexy back?

  2. This is awesome. :) I have to admit to never listening to the lyrics of his songs... now I will, haha.

    Flo Rida is my guilty I-have-no-idea-why-I-like-this pleasure.

    1. Hard to argue with a song that samples Etta James at the beginning.
      And sometimes, I DO get a good feeling!