For as long as I can remember, I've always dreamed of one day hearing a song about sitting in a closet and hiding from the husband of some whore I just fucked.  For years I asked, "Where is it?  Where is the song about hiding in a closet? When will my voice be heard?"  Finally, someone heard my desperate cries for melodious tales of closet-hiding: my new hero, R. Kelly.  All joking aside, any asshole can write a horrible song and sell it, but it takes a special kind of idiot savant to create a song so laughably bad that it crawls into your body through the back of your skull, like my penis, and kicks you in the lungs.  Like my penis. I saw this video for the first time on VH1 on Sunday morning (or, as  now refer to it, the greatest day of my life).  I honestly thought it was a joke at first, like someone who looked like R. Kelly was making fun of R. Kelly, but it was a serious song about infidelity in the streets (maybe even da streetz).  Or, as Urbansoulnation.com (where you can also watch the video) says, "R. Kelly stretches his story telling abilities to the limits of the imiagination [sic] as he weaves a lyrical drama about infidelity and hiding out in a closet. Its [sic] a common theme in urban tales of drama but R. Kelly adds a remarkably surprising twist to this sordid tale."  I think what they really meant to say was, "R. Kelly writes about how he has to hide from some woman's husband after he fucked her. Then he starts throwing in every cliche twist he's ever seen in romantic dramedies, even if none of them make any sense whatsoever."  If song-writing were an Olympic event, this song would compete in the kind that ends in a round of hugs and a teary-eyed medal ceremony. But, a story of this immense magnitude could not possibly be told in one song. No. It will take five songs.  Chapter one stars R. Kelly, some wig-wearing whore, and the whitest black guy in the universe as the husband.  Right now, since it's the only video I've seen THUS FAR!, I'm going to only talk about Trapped in a Closet (Part 1 of 5).  And, for those of you keeping score, the "(Part 1 of 5)" is really part of the title.

Basically, R. Kelly, playa & urinata extraordinaire, wakes up in some woman's bed.  He's married, and is this woman his wife?  Hells naw.  He's a playa.  And about here is where the song starts crashing into the mountain.  At about 0:05 of playing time.  He says that he can't believe it's not his wife saying good morning to him, and then in the next line talks about how he went to this woman's place after "the club" and is pissed he let himself stay there until morning.  Um, what?  I thought he didn't know where he was.  Maybe in actuality he was expecting this woman to turn into his wife through witchcraft at 4:00 AM while he was sleeping.  "Curse that lying gypsy!"

Anyway, he starts getting dressed (in song, of course) and she comes bursting through the door.  Her husband is home, and R. Kelly has to hide in the closet or "some shit's gonna go down."  "What shit is gonna go down?" you ask?  Bad, playa-related shit is going down, that's what.  In order to truly appreciate the horrible dialogue, you have to watch the video, complete with overly-exaggerated hand motions and all.  Here is the extent of the conversation (which is, of course, in song):

Woman: You can't go this way! (blocks door, overacts)
R. Kelly: Woman, move out my way!  I got a wife at home! (shakes finger flamboyantly, overacts)
Woman: Please don't go out there! (pushes R. Kelly, opens her mouth way too fucking wide, overacts)
R. Kelly: Lady, I've got to get home! (shakes finger again as if to say "shame on you," overacts)
Woman: Shh, shh, quiet.  Hurry up and get in that closet.  Don't you make a sound, or some shit is going down. (opens mouth wider, bobs head around, overacts)
R. Kelly: Why don't I just go out the window? (points at the window with a vengeance, overacts)
Woman: Yes, except for one thing, we on the 5th floor. (spastically flails arms about, opens mouth wide enough to swallow a midget, overacts)
R. Kelly: Think.  Think.  (I swear he says that)  Quick, put me in the closet. (points to closet with a vengeance, overacts)

So they go through this whole awkward conversation that was most likely first written in Chinese, translated to Retard, then to Portuguese, and then into Ebonics (a different dialect of Retard).  At first, he refuses to go in the closet (closets are for gay people in denial, not playas like R. Kelly) and would rather jump out a window like an action hero.  But he forgot he was on the fifth floor even though he remembers going to her house after the club, says "think" out loud, and then tells her to hide him in the closet.  Not only was the arguing pointless, but he acts like it was his idea in the first place.  What a douche.  Oh, he also refers to the closet as "this darkest closet," like it's an evil cave in an enchanted forest and he's afraid the boogey man is going to eat him or something.

Here, the song falls apart even more.  Right before the husband comes in, she takes off her wig and throws it in the closet. Okay.  First of all, why is she hiding her wig?  Second, her hair isn't much shorter that the wig was in the first place, so why wear it at all?  It would be like Carrot top wearing a red afro wig, and then taking it off to reveal a slightly shorter red afro.  What is the fucking point?  Whatever.

The important thing to remember here is that it's 7:00 in the morning according to the first line in the song.  Her husband walks in the room and she pounces on him.  Were this real life, her husband would have realized that something shady was going on because she practically tackles him at the doorway, like "DON'T GO IN THERE!!! MY VAGINA'S RIGHT HERE!!!"  It's like when you want to hide chocolate from a retard.  You distract him with loud noises and shiny objects.  Then the woman says, and keep in mind it's 7:00 AM, "I've cooked and ran your bath water."  Wait.. what?  Okay, maybe you cooked breakfast in the three seconds between "Good morning sexy stranger from last night" and "Oh shit, here comes my husband, get in the closet," but running him bath water?  Who does that?  One, baths are for cripples and people that fuck their sisters.  Second, why would she fill up the tub for him anyway?  Would he be happy to hear it?  He probably wouldn't give a shit, or, more accurately, ask, "Why did you fill up the tub for me?  It's 7:00 in the morning.  And if I really wanted to take a bath, which I don't, I think I can handle that myself, especially since the water's probably cold right now, you stupid bitch.  You can't do anything right!  Don't make me put my rings!"  He's not going to say, "I AM PLEASED!  NO BEATING FOR YOU TODAY, LOYAL WIFE!  I GO TO WORK NOW AT FACTORY!" What's even more ridiculous at this outpouring of overacting is that R. Kelly sings about how she deserves an Oscar for the performance she's giving.  Bitch, please.  If R. Kelly were to turn this crappy song into a crappy script and send it off to a group of soap opera producers, they'd send it back to him with a note saying, "This is fucking ridiculous.  Get back to us when you write something about aliens abducting the rich bartender's husband at the same time her old boyfriend wakes up from the coma he's been in ever since he saved her from a runaway train back in high school."

Then the husband starts pawing at the wigless woman and taking her clothes off, and what is R. Kelly's reaction to this? "Man, what the fuck is going on?"  Well, you see, R. Kelly, they are preparing to have what scientists call "sexual intercourse."  That's where the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina, moves it around for a while, let's his penis vomit on her face, and then he poops on her chest.  Okay, reality time.  Say you wake up in some married woman's bedroom, and her husband unexpectedly comes home forcing you to hide in a closet so you don't get caught.  Since it's a closet, there's only one way out and it's walking right past the guy you're hiding from.  The woman knows this and starts to have sexy time with her husband and is clearly doing it so you can sneak out.  Would the words "What the fuck is going on?" even come anywhere near crossing your mind?  Fuck no.  Personally, my first though would be, "Sweet, free show!  I hope there's a stuffed animal in here I can spooge into!  Yeah!  Pop out her glass eye and skull-fuck her, you nasty son-of-a-bitch!"

Then, the inevitable happens.  R. Kelly's cell phone rings.  DUN, DUN, DA DA DA DUNNNNNNN!!!  R. Kelly sings, "I tried my best to quickly put it on vibrate, but from the way he act, I could tell it was too late."  No shit, asshole.  It already rang once.  Putting it on vibrate after that isn't going to do a god damn thing.  Then, the husband says, "There's a mystery going on and I'm gonna solve it."  Okay, asshole.  Time the gather up the gang and hop in the Mystery Machine.  There's a mystery going on?  There's a mystery going on?!  What is fucking wrong with you?!  There's no mystery.  Some dude is hiding in your house because he fucked your wife all night.  There's nothing mysterious about that.  Maybe he's a private investigator, but obviously not a good one since he checks the bathroom, behind the bedroom door, and under the fucking bed before he looks in the closet which was about three feet from where he was dry-humping his wife.  Couldn't he tell where the ringing phone was coming from?  It was right next to his giant fucking head!  What a stupid asshole.  Oh yeah, he also checks the dresser. Why?  How is a dresser going to be a good hiding place?  It's not like the dresser in the video is ginormic.  No one's going to be able to hide underneath it and I don't think a full-grown man is going to fit in a drawer, unless of course the guy he's looking for is a midget or a 7-year-old paperboy.

Then, at the end of the song, R. Kelly pulls out a Baretta, and is probably preparing to scream, "How DARE you catch me fucking your wife!  I'll shoot yo' ass, muhfucka!"  Then the last few lines of the song are just R. Kelly wailing "the closet" over and over again until the song ends.  And I think I speak for everyone when I say I can't fucking wait until part 2 of the gripping Trapped in a Closet series.

A couple questions.  At what point during the writing of this song did R. Kelly repeatedly smack his limp wrist against his chest and say, "DURRRThis song is turning out to be fucking terrific.  G'HHAHHHGGGI am a genius!  DURRRP!!"?  Second, who is the asshole that fucking agreed with him, stuck it on a CD, and sold it?  It's fucking terrible, but what else would you expect from a guy that looks like this:

This song can't possibly be doing that well money-wise.  I honestly believe that anyone who buys it or requests it on the radio or a video countdown show does it solely because it is the funniest fucking thing they've ever heard/seen.  The song itself is really fucking stupid, but to see it acted out in a music video, that, my friends, is the key to achieving world peace.  Everyone will be laughing too hard to blow up a country. Well, intentionally, anyway.  I'm sure there will be a few incidents where a world leader will attempt to slap his knee in a fit of uproarious laughter and accidentally hit the blinking red "BLOW UP FRANCE" button, but, if it's any consolation, I don't think it will be missed.

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