Back in the 80s, ogling girls in music videos was an art form. Armed only with primitive VCRs to capture the most fleeting shots of the poses that we found interesting—say, the final Wonderbra shot of Gloria Estefan's "Words Get in the Way"—a young perv had to hone his skills. And then along came Janet Jackson's "Love Will Never Do." Janet singlehandedly ushered in the "Look at the surgery my daddy bought me!" artistic era. Suddenly, you needed freeze-frame to avoid seeing T&A.
So last night I heard the familiar horn of the General Lee, another staple from my wasted youth. "Ah yes," I thought. "They're making the Dukes of Hazzard into a movie. I wonder if they were stupid enough to leave the confederate flag on the roof of that car?" (They were.) And so I turned around to see a bikini-and-heels-clad Jessica Simpson grinding her butt while sponge-bathing the car. I waited for the "Cool Hand Luke" moment, but apparently MTV still has one standard. Still, it was an astounding display of commercialized sex, astounding in its brazen nonsensical-ness. Videos don't even try for themes, moods or stories anymore. "Look, here they are!" the video screams. "But this time they're sudsy!"
Sheryl Crow once said that she felt sorry for the Britney generation. "Where do you go after you've been 19 and you've stuck your crotch on a camera lens in front of 20,000 people?" Crow said this before her Stuff Magazine spread, presumably.