Not content with parading around exciting (enraging) every kind of (predominantly male) fantasy from pedophilia to lesbianism (of the male titillation variety) in her lyrics and videos, the troublesome titwillow Katy Perry has another go at driving us all mad with California Gurls. As in most cases, the song is largely irrelevant and as a piece of pop-plop encrusted stubbornly on the carelessly wiped arse-cleft of the music industry, it is not that bad. It is the video where various subversive techniques intended to ruin the minds of otherwise God-fearing Simpson’s fans are employed. The vile vignette depicts the fantasy world ‘Candyfornia’ (which exists inside a box) where everything is made of cakes and sweets (candy) into which the semi-clad Ms. Perry is thrust. She wanders about winking and cavorting in various states of undress before eventually having some kind of stand-off with your typical upstanding citizen (a sort of child-friendly pimp) in the form of Snoop Dogg – not to be confused with Snoopy the Dog who has never faced a murder charge – and his cohort of evil Gummi Bears. The stand-off is short-lived and the victory decisive as a quick thinking Ms. Perry affixes a can of squirty cream to each breast before ejaculating the contents in a euphoric (orgasmic?) scene leaving no one in any doubt that the imagery is alluding to something, though probably still in some doubt as to whether we should feel hungry, horny or both – we’ve moved on from champagne corks, fireworks and waves crashing over kissing couples these days don’t you know – oh yeesss.
I’m not sure when a woman’s right to express herself extended into this kind of public expression, but here we are – welcome to 2010 – the place where our children are brought up to be excited or at least entertained by a highly sexualised yet infantalised siren who ejaculates instant whipped cream from her nipples – as a weapon – thus winning the battle with a pimped up real life petty criminal and his evil gelatine disciples, all of course in Candyfornia, a place where few would expect this kind of shit to go down nightly.
As a final aside: The keen and continuity conscious among you will notice that in the scene above, Katy clearly ‘screws’ the compressed creamy cannisters rather high on her breastage, half over the skin in fact. Yet, in the next scene (where the cream squirts out and boys of all ages get excited and desperate in equal measures) they are located much lower down, directly over the nipples. Surely someone on the shoot was looking at her tits when they made this?