Next, get ready for reggaeton with the Ramada Sisters

There's a little-used "interactive" feature of this blog called "Blogging on Demand," wherein you simply send me a word or one-sentence phrase, and then sit back while I regale you with a magnificent* post based on that very topic. While the 592 search results I get for the phrase "Blogging on Demand" indicate this is not a novel concept on my part, I am arguably it's definitive practicioner, similar to how Jason Bonham is considered the ultimate hard rock drummer in his family.

Recently I received the following "B.O.G." (as the kids are calling it) request: "Paris Hilton as a 'singer.'" With the forthcoming glut of new fall releases - Outkast, Billy Joel, Arsenio Hall's zydeco tribute to Too $hort - I was going to painfully forgo listening to this obscure hotel heiress' debut album, Paris. But for the sake of research I mosied over to her MySpace page to check out the four album tracks currently posted. Before a single note hit my ears, I predicted the following would be true of at least one of each track:

1) Paris would speak/sing in that ubiquitious Britney Spears "baby" voice that would be easy to multi-track and digitally manipulate in the studio.
2) The lyrics would include lots of blatant come-ons too obvious to even qualify as single-entendres.
3) There would be some kind of reference to her "that's hot" catchphrase
4) She would team up with King Uszniewicz for a rockin' duet of Simon & Garfunkel's "Keep the Customer Satisfied."

As you can imagine, all but one of the above was true (no fair spoiling the answer). These songs were neither shriekingly terrible enough to turn off, nor interesting enough to keep listening for any reason. They were almost perfectly bland and generic club songs, professionally made in the way a Bring It On sequel is professionally made. If I may damn these tracks with the faintest praise ever typed, each one manages to be better than the Lindsay Lohan song that I heard a year or so ago from her vanity album, Firecrotch. It just goes to show that with today's technology you can just get some competent producers to slap a passable beat together and tweak anyone's voice enough to make them pass for a singer -- which, by the way, Anthony Keidis has also been proving for nearly two decades.

Incidentally, did you know that classy George Bush supporter Vincent Gallo wrote a song for Paris Hilton back in 2001 called "I Wrote This Song For the Girl Paris Hilton?" Yup, you can find it on his album When. Not to be outdone by that skeevy egomaniac, I'm going to be exhibiting my tribute to Paris' former best friend this fall, titled "I Made This Piss Sculpture For the Girl Nicole Richie." Some people thought I was taking the term "piss artist" too literally when I told them about this idea, but I've got to see my vision through to the end. Besides, I've already rented the space and collected 70 jars of my own urine, 84 magazine cutouts of Ms. Richie, and a stack of "Bible Man" VHS tapes for this thing. No turning back now. I'll also be playing the song heard at the beginning of this WFMU archive on a loop (Real Audio required). Nicole, I'm telepathically inviting you to the grand opening as we speak! I know you can feel me in your brain! Your lawyers can't issue their impudent court orders against me there. Oh, and eat something, if you happen to think of it.

*"magnificent" is sometimes equated with "barely sufficient"