I hate Sting.
I hate his goofy singing, I hate his perpetually frosted hair, but most of all, I simply hate the man that is Sting.
You know how every now and again you run across someone you just plain don’t like, seemingly for no good reason?
Okay, maybe you haven’t, but you know what I mean, right?
Well, that about sums up my relationship with Sting in a nutshell.
He never stole from me, he didn’t kill my father; and he most certainly never touched me as a child, but for whatever reason, I’ve had a severe hatred for Sting for as long as I can remember.
Near as I can recall, the first time I encountered Sting in my youth, came in the form of a TV broadcast of one of his performances.
I want to say that it was a stage performance from one of his appearances on Saturday Night Live sometime in the 90’s, but either way; my first impression of the man was to think:
“What the hell is he wearing?…”
While I can’t find any photos of it, the man was dressed in a massive leather jacket, easily 2 sizes too big for him, while straddling a guitar and clomping around in 3-5 inch platform boots.
I don’t recall what songs he performed that night, nor did his singing voice leave an impression on me at the time.
Honestly, I think I was simply too blown away by the sheer volume of fail put on display that night to have remembered anything else.
All I remember of Sting from that night, is that big-ass jacket, those Frankenstein boots of his, and his odd quirk of violating his fellow performer’s personal bubble just a little too much.
Seriously, the man has a tendency to rub up on people.
As my father would say: “He wouldn’t make it in the Projects…”
Anyway, after only dealing with Sting once in my life up to that point, the man was already 0-1, and officially on my “Naughty” list.
That was just the beginning though.
Sometime after this initial encounter, I remember hearing some of Sting’s songs on the radio.
I had to ask my mother who it was we were listening to, and when she told me it was Sting, I can honestly say I was not surprised.
Sting has a peculiar method of singing.
I like to refer to it as a “pecking” style of lyricism.
The lyrics in his songs, especially the more pop-ish tunes from earlier in his career; tend to have a halting rhythm to them that I find annoying.
It’s like trying to listen to streamed audio that’s still buffering.
Sure, you’re definitely listening to something, but it’s so fuckin’ fragmented and disjointed that it may as well be a song recorded by someone with Tourette’s Syndrome.
Honestly, while it pains me to taint this blog with a Family Guy reference, I have to say that they did a damn good job of summing up Sting’s singing style in my eyes:
Just remember, I hated the man long before Family Guy was ever thought of.
By the way, if you ever run into me on the street someday, ask me to do my Sting impression; I’m told it’s pretty spot on.
Moving on, reason #347 as to why I hate Sting, comes from his appearance in the film Dune.
Admittedly, this was a fairly recent addition to the “why I hate Sting” list, easily within the past 6-7 years.
When I first noticed that Sting was in Dune, my initial reaction was along the lines of:
“WHAT!? The “Zip-Zop-Zoop! MESSAGE… IN A… BAAAAAHHHH-TOLL!” Man is in Dune!? I hope he dies in it…”
Though I got my wish of getting to see Sting die on-screen at the end of Dune, (Oops! Spoiler Alert!) the 3 hour journey in getting to that point was not easy to sit through.
Yes that’s right, I didn’t really exactly care all that much for Dune, but that’s besides the point.
The point is, while sitting through a 3 hour movie I didn’t “get,” and also didn’t exactly like; I found myself not only having to contend with a clunky script and an absurdly over-the-top soundtrack, but with a flame-haired and frequently Speedo clad Sting.
3 hours of shitty movie I can handle standing on my head, but 3 minutes of Sting in his undies being ogled by a levitating overweight, oily pock-faced dude, was another story altogether.
I think Sting’s worst moment in the whole movie, other than the poorly choreographed and horrendously anti-climactic “knife fight” at the end, (Sorry again! Spoiler Alert!) was this one scene where Sting is handling what I call, a “kitty in a box.”
As fate would have it, the internet Gods seem to have eliminated all the good photos of the elusive “kitty in box” scene, as well as that giant-fucking leather jacket I mentioned earlier.
Sting must have a network of internet goons cleansing the web of all traces of his uncoolness…
Anyway, if you saw Dune; you probably know what I’m talking about, ’cause y’know; that was of course the most pivotal scene in the entire movie…
In addition to all of the reasons listed above, probably the single biggest reason I hate Sting, is that he’s one smug son of a bitch.
Seriously man, he’s just got this swagger, this preening and self-important element to his face and mannerisms.
Maybe it’s just ’cause he’s a singer/performer, and that’s kind of what they do; but in his case, he does it in just the wrong way that it, well; it just pisses me off!
Don’t question my hate, it needs not logic or reason to exist!
Anyway, enough Sting related hate-speak for tonight.
Tomorrow I’ll be finally playing more Demon’s Souls, so I figured I’d vent my frustration somehow before assaulting myself with more videogame related anger and stress.
Man I hate Sting…