waxing on Ke$ha.

As my Spectator "swan song," I will attempt to write a meaningful column that begins with the Ke$ha song "Tik Tok."

No, wait. Every song in her discography, please.

I think they are all variations on the same distinct theme. Something that would probably conclude with vomiting and waking the next morning with the thought "Oh my God! Why am I in Mexico?!"

I will be trodding along in my often bleak state of affairs, waxing self pity when the words "WAKE UP IN THE MORNING FEELING LIKE…" (do I need to conclude this thought?) invade my eardrums.

"It's going to be an AWESOME day!" I think, and my mind then immediately perks up.

Ah, yes. Ke$ha (and her chest glitter, and her amazing penchant for lyrics that would make Leonard Cohen sigh) probably has put my gender two steps back.

No, she's put humanity two steps back. I see that. I understand that.

That being said, I throw my intellectual disdain to the wind and I enjoy her. I love Ke$ha.

You might be the same way. Or you might be wrinkling your nose and getting ready to use this newspaper for your new puppy to pee on. I accept that.

Here's the thing though—what's wrong with giving into something with absolutely no substance once in a while?

What's wrong with pausing not to think too much, for once in our cluttered lives?

I watch the news religiously (well, you would hope, working for a newspaper, huh?).

Here's a sampling of the headlines of the past few weeks, at their most basic: a volcano essentially eating Europe, Poland's head of state dying, children going insane and committing horrific acts, over 1,000 people perishing in the latest earthquake in China.

Local news, even: a couple found murdered in Linesville, a woman in Erie arrested on obscene charges of child abuse. I don't want to go on.

Friends, the world is a harsh place. A lot of my associates don't even keep up with the news anymore.

I don't blame them, really. It's easy to lose hope when you hear about things like this, consistently.

Not only that, our day-to-day lives get no let up. We pack too much into too little.

There are 24 hours in a day. If you are a college student, you are asleep for half of these (or not, depending on the kind of student you are and your consumption of caffeine).

If a day passes and I don't manage to get much done, I am, frankly, appalled with myself. It should not be like this, but then: I may be eaten by a coyote tomorrow. You never know anymore.

That is why, despite the fact she is causing me to maim a small colony of brain cells, I will listen to Ke$ha.

And I will not feel the least bit bad about it.

We all need the moment during the day in which we put our responsibilities aside and do something for pure enjoyment, for escape.

You can't run away from things, nor should you. You can, however, step back things for a second to breathe.

And indulge yourself in frivolity, if found necessary.

Or, in the word of Ke$ha: give up on high school boys, make out with rock stars. Et al.

APRIL 21, 2010