It’s times like these we wonder whether San Marino’s sole purpose for entering Eurovision Song Contest is to secure at least one set of 12 points to Italy in the final. But by the look of it, Italy can manage very well on their own without any help from their baby sister. Still it adds a certain charm to have these microstates joining in on the shenanigans of our favorite singing competition.
But being so tiny and insignificant and still have the nerve to enter with song that is so bloody awful you can hardly call it a song, and make a mockery of the whole contest is quite rightfully frowned upon. We have tried to see the humor in the Facebook song, but we just can’t bring ourselves to even smile. This is the perfect example of what we in Norway have labeled pillow-tv. You know, when what happens on screen is so awfully embarrassing it actually hurts to look at it. When you grab for the nearest pillow on the sofa to cover your face because you can’t stand to look.
On these occasions all you can think is that some people should be protected against themselves. Because they are making a complete arse of themselves in public and obviously haven’t got a clue about what they’re doing. Try telling that to Ralph Siegel who’s about to destroy the last shred of his eurovisional greatness. And to the lyricists behind the most imbecile lyrics we’ve ever heard. How old are these people anyways? Have they ever logged on to Facebook? You’ll find nans in retirement homes with a more complex understanding of what goes on on the internet nowadays.
And God knows what Valentina Monetta was thinking when she agreed to perform this rubbish. If she has a manager she should seriously sack him. Like right now. And if she thinks looking, dressing and acting like a 13 year old will advance her career then we just feel sorry for her. There’s just something with the mix of a childish ponytail, teeth, glaring eyes, sequined t-shirts and bed-sheets from Ikea we find deeply disturbing.
It’s almost like we want to deactivate our Facebook accounts if being part of this social network is so incredibly clammy. We might even be asked to play cyber sex. Ewww! We already start to dread next year’s Sammarinese entry about Farmville. Oh Oh Uh Oh Oh! Crap.