In the summer of 2013, right before I began my freshman year at college, a truly cursed song called “Blurred Lines” came out. At best, it is a rip-off of a very good Marvin Gaye jam, at worst, it’s an anthem for sexual predators.
The rapper T.I. has a verse just before the bridge, where he promises a potential romantic interest he will “smack that ass and pull yo’ hair for you”—you know, like a gentleman. T.I. shares a writing credit on “Blurred Lines” along with Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams; because of those men I spent my first few weeks at NYU dodging “Hey hey hey” cat-calls as I walked to class.
For that reason any connection to “Blurred Lines,” which has aged like an elderly ferret’s twice-run-over carcass, is enough to earn someone a spot on my Questionable Humans list.
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