"Now war and the bloodshed and the sexual frustration is everywhere, so for this reason, the Grand Council of Hot Love, you know, up in space, decide to dispatch three of their finest love commandos - Monique, Trudie, and Ginger - to seek out hate and the evil and sexy problems, right? Now aided only by Sexboy, without whose sex nourishment their sexual energy is incomplete and relying only on their ability to generate sexual…
It is a great comedy sketch. It is a great music video. It is a great graduate thesis. It is a great personal manifesto. It is the best life advice any woman could ever receive. Tammy doesn't spread for no roses, and neither should you.
I don't, okay? I just don't. She creeps me out. And I know it's SUPPOSED to be creepy, and unsettling, and comedy isn't just about making you feel COMFORTABLE, MALLORY, YOU BOURGEOUIS PEASANT (THAT INSULT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE, OTHER MALLORY). But...gahh. I don't know. I know the problem is with me, and not with the sketch. But I don't even like to look at this link. Here, you watch it.
It's a beautiful, simple idea - take something seriously that is not meant to be taken seriously - that's absolutely perfect for the Kids' brand of wide-eyed, terrifying sincerity. A bikini inspector who rides the bus to work ("There's an hour right there"), who makes $8.67 an hour, who can't understand why so many guys in bars and on the beach want to pretend to have his job.
"Got a big day ahead of me, several things to do. Got to keep on top of my life, got to keep on top of my life. I have seven things to do. Number one: Banking. Number two: Pick up dry cleaning. Okay, ya just knocked over an old lady, keep moving, ya got seven things to do."