For a periodical that bills itself as the "ultimate guide to music," I'm beginning to wonder if Blender Magazine forgot to remove its head from its ass before naming Fergie as the magazine's Woman of the Year. Seriously? Out of the hundreds of female musicians to choose from, Blender chooses Fergie? There's a hobo lady who lives in a box on top a heater grate near the university in my town who sings "On Top of Spaghetti" when she she's hopped up on malt liquor and pain killers who has more talent than Fergie ... and she doesn't piss her pants nearly as often.

Last month, Blender named Sting as the worst lyricist of all time, and while I don't particularly have a problem with that conclusion, how can it then turn around and make the woman who wrote "Ima get get get get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump" as the goddamn Woman of the Year? Which is the biggest offense: "Her friends are so jealous / you know how bad girls get" or "My lumps, my lumps, my lovely lady lumps"? "It doesn't compute. It's like naming Martin Scorsese as the greatest director of all time, but then calling Bret Ratner the director of the year.