Ear Slime

This is why I'm hot, this is why I'm hot, this is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot.

This is why I'm hot, this is why I'm hot, this is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot.

I'm hot because I'm fly, you ain't because you not, this is—CEASE AND DESIST. Enough.

This song, which I'm sure is called "This Is Why I'm Hot," is such a complete pile of shit that I hesitate to use so familiar a term, lest you consider it in the same vein as any other pile of shit you might hear. My Humps is a pile of shit, but you might catch yourself dancing to it for a few seconds. "I went down, down to the disco--damn, can't believe I just shook my ass to that." But you did. But This Is Why I'm Hot? Like gonhorrea and our appendices, I wonder why it exists.

I cannot get that line out of my head: I'm hot because I'm fly, you ain't because you not." It's a wood-burrowing insect mistaking my brain for oak. It's an enormous wad of Big League Chew caught in a boot. I'd give up at least three toes to be fluent in any language, or to remember long sections of obscure plays, or even someone's birthday without help from Microsoft Outlook, but this stank line--probably with me for life.