I’m grateful to commenter DJ Ri-Mix, who offers up another date rape jam for our collection: “Shots” by LMFAO and featuring Lil Jon. This one is a doozy, ladies!

Date Rape Anthem: LMFAO’s “Shots,” an ode to repeatedly ingesting one-ounce doses of liquor. And cock-sucking!

Relevant Lyrics:

Shots shots shots shots shots shots
Shots shots shots shots shots
Shots shots shots shots shots

Everybody
The ladies love us / When we pour shots
They need an excuse / To suck our cocks
We came to get crunk / How ‘bout you?
Bottles up / Let’s go round two

Why It’s So Rapey: Hold up—that was round one? We’re only at round one, and all the ladies who previously had no intention of sucking LMFAO’s cocks have already found an excuse to do so? WTF happens in round two?

The women come around everytime I’m pourin’ shots
Their panties hit the ground everytime I give em shots
So cups in the air, everybody lets take shots.

In-da-club vaginal penetration, I’m guessing.

I kind of get LMFAO: They’re a couple of hipster hip-hop boys, so when they do shit like name themselves “LMFAO,” and appear on the Kardashian sisters’ reality television show, and go to Canada, and rap about receiving oral sex from drunk chicks, their tongues are at least a little bit in-cheek. Still: Proudly proclaiming that women “need an excuse to suck our cocks” and trade their panties for liquor isn’t exactly LMFAO-out-loud funny—it’s actually been done before, guys, and peppering your babe-a-licious video with some hipster sensibilities doesn’t magically transform a Lil Jon song into satire.

What says summer like boozy, blacked-out, ambiguously consensual fucking? Boozy, blacked-out, ambiguously consensual fucking that clocks in at 28 minutes and three seconds!

Burning Star Core was so inspired by everyone’s favorite date-rape jam, Jamie Foxx’s “Blame It (On the Alcohol), that they’ve compiled the song’s many remixes into one epic 30-minute alcohol-soaked sex anthem. Download it here.

The song trades in so many booze and sex references, it’s sometimes difficult to know what category of fluid these MCs are busy name-checking. But who caaaaaares: the important thing is that we all drink more until strangers are willing to hook up with us.

And so, after the jump: the ill-advised Blame it (On the Alcohol) Ultimate Remix drinking game:

Cover your beer with a napkin when you hear any of the following Alcohol references:

* drunk
* drank
* Goose
* bottle
* knocked out
* gin and tonic
* shots
* fluid
* designated driver
* vomit

Avoid eye contact with the closest creep when you hear any of the following Sex references:

* pocket rocket
* fucking
* ass
* bikini
* wet
* fluid
* bone
* pimp
* Barack
* Beyonce

* Disclaimer: Nobody ever play this game.

Photo by Shiny Things

The other day, a friend of mine received a helpful pamphlet outside of the Metro entitled “Real Women vs. Fake Women.” This handy guide—which reveals which ladies in your life are authentic and which are fake, make-believe women—is excerpted from Allan Williams‘ book, God Don’t Like Fake People. In the book, Williams also tackles “real” and “fake” men. But more on that later—ladies first!

Women: Are you real, or are you fake? I’ve adapted Williams’ tips into a handy fifteen-question quiz. Find out after the jump!

ONE.

a. You are very clean.

b. You put time, focus and energy into your booty.

TWO.

a. You are easy to please.

b. When you receive a compliment, you look at the person who gave it to you as if they were the scum of the earth. However, you are addicted to compliments, and if you go a day in public without getting one you will start getting insecure and looking in the mirror every 20 seconds.

THREE.

a. You cherish the simple things in life that are the really big things in life, like God.

b. You only mention God when you say “Oh MY GOD!!”

FOUR.

a. You intend to get married or have kids early in life.

b. You intend on having kids later in life, possibly as a single parent.

FIVE.

a. You don’t have a lot of male friends.

b. You have a lot of so-called male friends.

SIX.

a. You are simple in nature.

b. You deal with multiple men at a time and claim that they are just male friends while steady fornicating with them.

SEVEN.

a. You love straight-forward simple men that need you.

b. You often cheat on your so-called boyfriends with coworkers at your job.

EIGHT.

a. You will take love over security because you know that true love always manifests itself in the physical form eventually.

b. You meet and talk to guys on Myspace.com or Facebook.com that your so-called boyfriends or husbands don’t know about it.

NINE.

a. You can’t stand quiet feminine guys.

b. You are always getting into relationships with men that are on the down low.

TEN.

a. You don’t drink or smoke but will perhaps drink a tad bit on occasion.

b. You often drink a lot and sometimes smoke because you get taken out so much, and that’s why you don’t know how to cook and are often very filthy and dirty.

ELEVEN.

a. You speak your mind to your man but don’t mind being submissive.

b. You lack common sense.

TWELVE.

a. You know how to cook and clean.

b. You only work out mostly in the spring time because that’s when you get to compete against unknown females and your fake friends on who got the best body and tattoos.

THIRTEEN.

a. You are clean.

b. You are very used up.

FOURTEEN.

a. You are just happy to be in a real man’s presence.

b. You look pretty but your inside organs and your vagina are work out because so many male private parts have visited there.

FIFTEEN.

a. You are too into your mate to have time and energy to spend with another man.

b. You don’t know that you are the cause of your own misery.

—

MOSTLY As: Congratulations! You are a real woman.

MOSTLY Bs: You are a fake woman who may or may not have personally annoyed the author of God Don’t Like Fake People by: cheating on him with your so-called friends, co-workers, and Facebook acquaintances; drinking alcohol; having a worked-out vagina; being a single parent; or simply refusing to go out with him. As a result, God doesn’t like you. For more information on your condition, read the entire excerpt here.

Photo by gailf548

It would be difficult for any advertising campaign to convince me to drink a Bacardi Breezer anywhere—much less in a shopping mall. Unfortunately, Bacardi’s “Get An Ugly Girlfriend” campaign has managed to produce the same feeling of nausea in me, but without the 4 percent alcoholic buzz!

Jezebel has already remarked on how the campaign misfires by attempting to target typically misogynystic alcohol advertising at women instead of the usual target (men). But the “Get An Ugly Girlfriend” campaign got another thing wrong, too: the Internet.

The Bacardi campaign, launched in Tel Aviv, is all set up to make online waves. On the Web site, you can fill out a form to receive a free Bacardi Breezer (though I’m not convinced Get An Ugly Girlfriend will look any better when we’re drunk). You can add write in with your own comments about each of Bacardi’s ugly girlfriends: Sally, the fat one; Daisy, the hippie (and probably the feminist) one; Wendy, the kinda gothy one; and Lucy, another fat one. And you can “friend” each of the girls on Facebook—a feature which sends you over to the campaign’s Facebook page. It’s so interactive!

Well, it was until this morning. When I logged onto the Facebook group yesterday afternoon, the campaign had about 100 followers—and dozens of negative comments applying a variety of critiques to Bacardi’s ad men. The comments ranged from feminist attacks on Bacardi’s misogynystic disregard of its potential customers to more aesthetic criticisms ridiculing Bacardi for passing off a grade-school insult as innovation.

But when I attempted to log onto the Facebook page again this morning—what can I say, I’m a fan—the whole interactive feature had mysteriously disappeared. That’s the downside of “going viral” when you’re trying to sell booze, not pageviews. Personally, I don’t mind a spike in visitors when a lot of people are pissed off at whatever I have to say. But if you actually need your online visitors to buy what you’re selling, it doesn’t help that everyone coming to your site would never buy this misogynystic crap—much less an actual Bacardi Breezer.

It looks like Bacardi has decided to cut its losses on this one and shut down the impromptu Bacardi bitching site (though the ad campaign is still up online). The “comments” feature, however, is still up on the Web site: It includes three generic positive comments supplied by Bacardi. The “Add Your Comment” button below the comments goes nowhere. Now, all that visitors to the Web site can do is shut up and fill out the form for a free Bacardi. That’s more like it!

UPDATE: Oops, looks like the Web site has been taken down entirely. Feminist social networking FTW?

UPDATE: A Bacardi rep sent the following apology to Jezebel:

Thank you for taking the time to post your story on Bacardi Breezer.

The campaign you are referring to ran in 2008 for two months in Israel. Even though Bacardi Breezer is not sold or distributed in the United States, we immediately notified the appropriate Bacardi affiliate and had this website shut down.

Bacardi proudly celebrates diversity and we do not endorse the views of this site. We sincerely apologize to anyone who was offended by this site and thank you for bringing it to our attention.

Please do not hesitate to contact me at anytime should you have any questions.

When I first described Jamie Foxx’s “Blame It (On the Alcohol)” as a date rape jam, I lamented that the song didn’t allow Foxx’s female target on the dance floor any input into the situation. “But what about the woman in the song?” I asked. “Of course, no holla back joint has dropped from Foxx’s fictional honey, so we can’t tell what she’s really thinking.”

But I think I’ve found her! And she is Lady Gaga. In extreme boozin’ song “Just Dance,” Gaga declares:

“I’ve had a little bit too much, much.”

“Where are my keys? I lost my phone.”

“What’s going on on the floor?”

“I can’t see straight anymore.”

“What’s the name of this club?”

“How’d I turn my shirt inside out?”

Anyway, Lady Gaga is wasted. So what does she want to do now?:

Just dance, gonna be okay, da da doo-doo-mmm
Just dance, spin that record babe, da da doo-doo-mmm

Cool, whatever. Just dance, Lady. But goddamnit, here comes up-and-coming R&B artist Colby O’Donis:

Shawty I can see that you got so much energy
The way you’re twirlin’ up them hips ’round and ’round
And now there’s no reason at all why you can’t leave here with me
In the meantime stay and let me watch you break it down

Typical. Gaga just wants to dance! “Just,” as in “only the dancing,” is even in the title of the song. Colby O wants her to dance into his pants—and there’s “no reason at all” why that shouldn’t happen. Here’s one reason: She can’t figure out how her shirt got turned inside out.

Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how this one ends because the lyrics then descend into incomprehensibility. Most agree that Gaga is saying “Spend the last dough / In your pocko” in the end there, but one interpretation offers a much more chilling ending: “It’s been molesto / I got it / And your popped coll.”

Molesto . . . Popped collar . . . AHHHHHHHHHH!

Date Rape Anthem: Asher Roth’s “I Love College”

Relevant Lyrics:

I can’t tell you what I learned from school but
I could tell you a story or two, um
Yeah, of course I learned some rules
Like don’t pass out with your shoes on (get the sharpie)

And don’t leave the house ’til the booze gone (no we’re not leaving)
And don’t have sex if she’s too gone
When it comes to condoms put two on (trust me)
Then tomorrow night find a new jawn

Why It’s So Rapey: On the surface, Roth’s love-letter to undergraduate debauchery condemns date rape (”don’t have sex if she’s too gone”). So why would this Village Voice detractor call the Morrisville, Pa. rapper’s first album “nothing more than a soundtrack for date rape”?

Maybe it has something to do with the context of Roth’s one-line defense of consensual sex. At the beginning of his video for “I Love College,” Roth awakes on a fraternity house couch with a half-naked girl passed out on his lap. He doesn’t date-rape her: He just pushes her off onto the floor and starts drinking again. Later, when the party is in full-swing, Roth boasts that he drank the party house dry as he “danced my face off and had this one girl completely naked.” He doesn’t date-rape her: He just uses her naked body to boost his cred in a rap song.

Roth’s song does sets limits for consensual sex—don’t do her if “she’s too gone”—while simultaneously urging college students to push those limits by getting wasted and getting it on—in other words, doing her when she’s juuuust gone enough. In a fraternity house full of people partying naked until all the booze is gone, “she’s too gone” might start to seem pretty relative.

Meanwhile, one in four women will be sexually assaulted while in college, making the listener wonder how Roth learned the “rules” of college behavior. Roth knows now not to a) pass out with your shoes on, b) leave before the booze is gone, c) date-rape a girl, and d) have unprotected sex. Has he learned from experience?

Still, it’s enough for commenters on feminist blog Feministe to defend Roth against charges of racism and sexism: “He does the bare minimum of saying, ‘…don’t have sex if she’s too far gone,’ whatever his motives,” one writes. “I honestly didn’t expect that much because date rape is usually so fucking hilarious to frat boys.”

Observe and Report, Seth Rogen’s new film, is a dark rom-com about a mall security guard in love with a beautiful, alcoholic flashing victim Brandi (played by Anna Faris). Rogen’s character unsuspectingly date-rapes Brandi after she downs several shots, pops some pills, vomits all over herself, and passes out. But it’s okay, because she actually wanted it.

The clip from the scene is at the 2:40 mark. Rogen’s take on date rape:

SETH ROGEN: when we’re having sex and she’s unconscious like you can literally feel the audience thinking, like, how the fuck are they going to make this okay? Like, what can possibly be said or done that I’m not going to walk out of the movie theater in the next thirty seconds? . . . And then she says, like, the one thing that makes it all okay:

BRANDI: “Why are you stopping, motherfucker?”

See, she just prefers to fuck while sleeping! And so, an entire theater’s ambivalence toward date rape is miraculously resolved in a good, long, laugh, and the date rapist who is meant to be protecting Brandi from the penis flasher remains the hero.

If Observe and Report were really in the business of edgy, “dangerous,” black comedy, Brandi would leave Rogen for the arms of an even more heinous sexual abuser, like a gang rapist, then leave him for a child molesting middle-school teacher, before finally settling down with a serial prostitute killer. If only somebody in Hollywood had the balls to do it.