I have something to confess. Once, during the dark days of my adolescence, I played the entire album of Dancing on the Ceiling over and over again (concentrating primarily on the song Say You, Say Me of course) as I cried over being rebuffed by the love of my life, Greg Ryerson.
I sobbed for hours as Richie’s sweet, seductive voice lured me into a helpless stupor and then, after about five hours, the tears dried and I emerged from the depths of despair and did a triumphant dance to the title track.
So perhaps this why, when I came across the following commercial, that I felt that my emotional life at fourteen had been raped with a broom handle and I can no longer hold Mr. Richie in the high esteem I once did.
Pay the bills if you must Mr. Smooth, but know this, if Burger King or Slim Jim even touches Ballerina Girl I will hunt you down and bitch-slap you hard.