Boy bands from this era were all about feelin’ good and partyin’ inoffensively, so naturally I thought that “Get Down” would be a call-to-arms for tweens trying to throw dance parties in their parents’ basements. Time would teach me that any party informed by b4-4’s song and thrown by middle schoolers would be disgusting.

This Videodome will deal with gay jokes and euphemisms for ejaculation. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
Here’s something to think about: somebody greenlighted this music video. Somebody directed it. Somebody was responsible for coming up with a concept and explaining that concept to everyone involved in the project. At some point, the director had to say to the Village People, “Alright guys, for these shots, the phone you’re holding is going to cum all over you in the form of steam.”
Since I grew up in the ’90s, maybe it’s impossible for me to understand the climate in which this song and video were produced. “Sex Over the Phone” is something of a time capsule from an era where phone sex was that shit, and it went hard.

The year is two thousand eighty-five. Twenty eight-five that is.
But in case you were not aware that there is more than one way to say a four-digit number, The-Dream (aka Tiresias Nash, or something like that) is more than happy to enlighten you. After all, he is from the future, as his video for “Walkin’ on the Moon” makes painfully obvious. He travels the megaverse in the Millennium Falcon and requires no external oxygen supply when on alien planets. His body is unaffected by the eviscerating vacuum of deep space and his leather jacket makes him look like a rhinestone space cowboy. But what’s more, this song is fucking bad-ass and the video makes me want to start collecting Star Wars cards again.

I guess this song is about how girls are tryna get they swerve on too. That’s cool; I’m down, especially if the visual accompaniment fulfills my recurring fantasy of seeing Shakira locked in a cage that’s not even tall enough for her to stand upright in. Don’t worry about our flesh-tone-leotard-clad protagonist, though: she still has ample room to bend over, be on her hands and knees, lay down, etc.
But before I get too carried away, let’s go back to the beginning and see this thing through in all its glory. Shakira awakes, with mascara already applied, to a full moon and the distant howls of…you guessed it, wolves.