Wednesday, 10 February 2010

The Mayer of Idiotsville

John Mayer proves silence is golden if the alternative is hearing his thoughts.

If  ignorance is bliss then John Mayer must be on cloud 9, possibly masturbating furiously to pictures of Jessica Simpson and spunking napalm on unsuspecting white women. At least that’s what his recent interview with Playboy magazine would lead us to believe.

These days Mayer is more famous for his celebrity relationships than for his music, which depending on who you ask is either genius or so middle-of-the-road it’s the auditory equivalent of a dotted white line or a small flattened mammal with tyre tracks on its back. Flings with Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Love Hewitt, and most recently, Jessica Simpson have thrust the blues artist into the limelight in recent years, making him exactly the kind of person I find it incredibly easy not to write about. Until this week he was entirely ignorable; a blip on someone else’s radar if you will. That was before the world’s most famous gentleman’s magazine featured an interview  proving him to be twice the misguided idiot I ever would have imagined.image

Taking baby-steps towards offending a nation, Mayer warmed up by talking about a variety of subjects ranging from the completely uninteresting to the absurd.

He started by discussing his relationship with the press, stating that he prefers Twitter because it gives him a chance to share his real thoughts and not be misrepresented, “With Twitter I can share my real voice. Here’s me thinking about stuff: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if you could download food.’

Yes, that is John Mayer’s real voice. How did we live without it? Maybe one day he’ll write a book, ‘Mayer’s Musings’, and we can all be privy to the innermost thoughts of the worlds hungriest dullard.

After his hunger pangs passed Mayer went on to talk about porn, stating that his dream job would be to write pornography and that there are days when he sees up to 300 hundred vaginas before he gets out of bed. It beats counting sheep I suppose but it does beg the question ‘how do you get out of bed when you are cemented to your sheets?’

He also goes on to inform an audience who are ever eager to learn about the masturbatory habits of the celebrity elite, that he’s actually a bit of a wanker, “I have the most unbelievable orgasms alone. They’re always the best. They always end the way I want them to end.” A long embrace and some pillow talk perhaps? Oh, right, jizz. How silly of me. It’s hard to say whether Mayer believes that he is alone in this ability to make himself climax, but he certainly seems proud of it, so why dampen his spirits?

All this is all well and good, and I’m not one to jump on the back of any musician who just happens to be particularly dull or talks about wanking a lot. It was statements  made in the latter parts of the interview that really lit a fire under the world of internet complainers. So much so that Playboy’s home page has been causing my computer to crash for the last two hours as thousands of people swamp the server in search of John Mayer, or possibly boobs. Hard to say.

Mayer, who since birth has missed the part of the brain that prevents people from saying utterly retarded things in front of journalists, went on to compare Jessica Simpson to “Sexual Napalm” (seriously John, if it’s burning see a doctor), call ex Jennifer Aniston a technophobe (Jennifer is yet to respond as she’s struggling to write an email on her toaster) and then, just to add icing to the cake,  went ahead and dropped the N bomb. No, not napalm this time. He said “nigger” in response to a question about why he is so popular with black people.

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“Someone asked me the other day, “What does it feel like now to have a hood pass?” And by the way, it’s sort of a contradiction in terms, because if you really had a hood pass, you could call it a nigger pass. Why are you pulling a punch and calling it a hood pass if you really have a hood pass?”

After what I can only assume was a slightly awkward silence, Meyer went on to explain that he doesn’t sleep with black women because “My dick is sort of like a white supremacist.”

Something tells me Meyer’s “Hood Pass” may have just been revoked. I mean the other stuff is fair enough; maybe Aniston can’t work a computer and maybe Simpson does have highly corrosive bodily fluids (although I’m fairly sure that’s not what he meant), but at what point did he think he’d be able to get away with saying that? Luckily Meyer swiftly changed the subject with the following piece of nonsense:

“Here’s what I really want to do at 32: fuck a girl and then, as she’s sleeping in bed, make breakfast for her. So she’s like, ‘What? You gave me five vaginal orgasms last night, and you’re making me a spinach omelette? You are the shit!’ So she says, ‘I love this guy.’ I say, ‘I love this girl loving me…When I’m fucking you, I’m trying to fuck every man who’s ever fucked you, but in his ass, so you’ll say ‘No one’s ever done that to me in bed.’ ”

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. You’ve got to admire the detail though. The fact that he’s actually thought about what he’s going to put in the omelette shows he has a caring side. Come to think of it, anybody hungry? Wouldn’t it be cool if you could download spinach omelettes?

Predictably, after delivering an interview that reads a little like an internet chat between a horny teenager and a journalist who accidentally got the wrong msn address, Mayer issued an apology. This is what is commonly referred to as damage control, or as Mayer would possibly call it, ‘public relations napalm’. The apology came in the form of a flurry of tweets (that way we know it’s John’s real voice, clever huh) although it’s yet to be made clear whether or not a few 140 character bursts of common sense will be enough to soothe the hurt of a word that reminds folk of hundreds of years of oppression, or the bigger hurt caused by so many people being forced to visualise John Mayer’s sex life. Probably though, eh.

1 comment:

Melissa said...

There is something deeply unhinged about this man...either that or he is in the running for World's Most Epic Douche Bags.

I could do without his personal nuggets of genuis. I shudder to think what would be in store for the world if he, heaven forbid, writes that book.
Jez!