I Wish That I Were Making Any of the Following Information Up

R. Kelly’s new album, Double Up, leaked to the Internet a few days ago, and I immediately snatched it up when I found out. I am of the belief that there will be no more enjoyable song released Anno Domini 2007 than Robert’s “I’m a Flirt,” (featuring his friends Clifford and Faheem,) so I was understandably excited to experience further musical genius from the man.

After the tragedy at Virginia Tech in April, R. Kelly decided to pen a song, “Rise Up,” which would be available for digital download. The proceeds would go to the Hokie Spirit Memorial Fund.

Now, I understand that the man has definitely made some, how should I put this… interesting decisions, but I have to give him props for that one. In addition to the song being released for download, Kelly included it as the final track on the U.S. release of Double Up. Here's where the trouble starts.

The song on the album IMMEDIATELY PRECEDING this song, written to honor the memories of the victims of one of the most terrible tragedies in recent United States history and to help the survivors cope with the pain and memories that they will always have to live with, is called “Sex Planet.”

“Sex Planet.”

There is no interlude. No skit called “Let’s Get Serious For a Second.” Not even just a filler track of silence to let you relax after R. Kelly’s sexual adventure through the galaxy. Just a seamless transition from one song to the other.

And, if you were wondering if “Sex Planet’s” lyrics were anything like the title suggests, let’s try some examples on for size:

“Gonna get you so excited once I taste your Milky Way”

“So don’t trip, I got a giant rocket.”

“I’m about to take over and touch your soul / once I enter into your black hole.”

“Girl I promise it’ll be painless / We’ll take a trip to planet Uranus.”

Toward the end of the song, Kelly begins a countdown, starting with “R-Minus” for no reason other than he could. I could not make something like this up.

Now, this would be funny, (or sad, depending on what your sense of humor is,) ONCE on this album. However, Kelly compares his lovemaking techniques to something that I, if I were a girl or hot for R. Kelly, would never want inflicted on my person.

In the song “The Zoo,” which Kelly seems to get confused with a jungle, (I’ll give you a hint, Robert: Look for a Sno-Cone stand,) he talks about turning his girl over and playing the bongos on her, and how they’ll be like banana trees, I guess. But at least that song’s in between “Freaky in the Club” and “I’m a Flirt” and not “Let’s Talk About Darfur” and “Don’t Get AIDS,” or something.

So I guess I’m trying to say that there’s something fucking wrong with R. Kelly. I mean, for the love of God, the man’s 40 years old. He has to stop bangin’ chicks at some point, doesn’t he? He may be the King of R&B, but maybe it’s time to relinquish the throne to a younger man and take care of his kids. I know I wouldn’t want my daughter, and he DOES have a daughter, listening to Daddy Fucks the Female Population of Chicago because she wanted to know what I did for a living.

But, as evidenced in this Chicago Sun-Times article, R. Kelly fancies himself to be a strong leader and role model, so maybe I just don’t have the right perspective.

Plus, I have to be honest with myself. I would be devastated if R. Kelly never put out another single.

I just love “I’m a Flirt” so much.