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If it's got a Southern name and Caramanica doesn't like it, you know it's bad

Why didn't anyone tell me that Jon Caramanica has a dadburned blog? About time, say I. Especially gratifying that today's entry is an evisceration of Black Eyed Peas. (Ok, ok, fish-in-a-barrel targets for sure, but fun shootin' nonetheless.) I wish Caramanica had been around the other night when I saw the BEPs performing on Letterman. It was late and I was more faded than Kid's (of Play, Kid and) coif, but damned if that wasn't one of the more surreal things I've seen in a long while -- their boisterousness was so over the top (including an unfortuante moment of intraband moshing), their choreography so theatrically "hard," that it would have been better suited for a Brazilian children's program, preferably the kind where the hostess would have pulled each of them aside, one by one, and given them the spanking they all deserve.

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