Last summer, as you might recall, I used this blog to express my extreme disgust with the song "Rude" by Magic!, a song I considered both a serious contender for "Song of Summer" status and one of the most putrid hunks of flaming garbage to have ever been shat into existence. I hated "Rude" so much and with a passion that most people reserve for genocidal dictators or reality show participants. I still hate "Rude," nightly praying for it to perish in a fiery shuttle crash or have its skull caved in by a falling, poorly installed AC window unit.
But now there's something out there far worse, like, more horrible than your most horrendous nightmare. You know the one. You're in front of a large group of people in a public venue, about to give a speech about something for which you are extremely passionate, and you suddenly notice that all of your notes are out of order and written in hieroglyphics. Not only that, but you've forgotten your pants and all of your teeth have just this moment fallen out of your mouth and onto the lectern. And the audience is entirely made up of clones of your worst ex-girlfriend and grizzly bears. And you're on fire.
By no means did "Rude" ever grow on me, but I did learn to tolerate it. I had to. My daughter, who was three at the time, caught wind of the song, and would burst out with snippets of it from time to time - at the dinner table; on a road trip; in the middle of the night, hunched over my sleeping body, her face hovering over mine, our noses touching. She'd either sing "why you gotta be so rude?" or "marry that girl," and she'd do it over and over and over. In time, "Rude" lost it's shimmer, and she moved onto the next thing (i.e. saying "spaghetti" in a weird, unrecognizable foreign-ish accent for fifteen minutes straight), but while we were in the thick of Summer '14, I didn't mind it so much when my little girl would regale with us with a few bars of the song. This new, worse song, however, will never reach the ears of my precious daughter. She will never be exposed to it's evil, her brain shall remain untouched by this parasitic earworm from Hell.
Of course I'm talking about Andy Grammer's "Honey, I'm Good," the worst song of all time. Let's give it a listen, shall we?:
How the fuck do all of these people know this song?!? Sorry. Look, last year I probably wrote something, like, "Hey, if you enjoy "Rude," good for you. Enjoy it. Roll your car windows down and blast it while you're driving around town. Learn it front to back and perform it on your next karaoke outing. Play it during your wedding ceremony. Play it at your great-aunt's funeral." That looks like something I'd write. I can't say any of that when writing about "Honey, I'm Good." It isn't OK to like this. This is not good music. All of the people in this video should be ashamed of themselves. I hope all of the ones who do not have children were sterilized immediately when the government found out this video existed.
"Honey, I'm Good" makes me want to listen to Pharrell's "Happy" on a loop for 17 hours. It makes "Rude" sound like a masterpiece. It makes me want to reconsider my belief that Don McLean's "American Pie" is the worst song ever written. I don't know what "Honey, I'm Good" is, but I know it's evil and we must kill it with fire. In fact, the only way I'll ever give this ridiculously dumb song another chance is if Kelsey Grammer records a cover version. Holy shit! "Honey, I'm Good" makes the Frasier theme song sound as good as anything The Smiths put out in their short tenure as the world's greatest band.
TL;DR: I hate Andy Grammer's "Honey, I'm Good."