Benji's Back!

About a month ago I posted a link to a Chinese music video starring a bonafide BYU Young Ambassador. Benji, as he calls himself, has now finished up his degree and is moving to China to launch his career as a "American Chinese pop Supa-star"! Yippee!

Benji's music video can be described in one word: CHEESE. It reeks of cheesiness: silly hip-hop dance movies, backdrops of Provo, and an Asian love interest. I giggled non-stop when I first watched it, thinking "Are you serious?" But indeed, Benji is very serious. And after I checked out his MySpace profile, over 1000 people find him to be very serious, too. I really think he's going to make it big in China. Benji is even negotiating with CCTV (Chinese Central Televsion) about hosting a show in China and he also received interest from MTV China to air his music video.

Hold the phone. (Haha. When's the last time you used that phrase?) I need to contact the Chinese people, stat. I need to bring to their attention a little something I call taste. I need to warn them about the Benji invasion. Run away, my cousins! Turn off your Communist-sponsored radios and television sets! Run away before Benji makes you turn into a squealing puddle of goo!

But my cries will fall on deaf ears because Chinese people eat this stuff up. They love cheesiness and they love Americans who embody cheese. Why? I don't know, but I do know my parents love to sing really loudly to strange Chinese karoake. Even my own family loves cheese.

It frightens me to no end that I could have been a screaming Benji fan if my grandparents had stayed in China rather than flee from the Communists. What would my life be like if I had grown up in Shanghai?

Would I look like this?

And make vertical peace signs when I pose for pictures?

And take pictures of myself with my web cam like this?

Would I have a neo-mullet and dye my hair red? Would I giggle incessantly and cover my mouth with my delicate hand? Would I wear shirts that read "Super Gas" across my chest? (True story, I saw a girl with a shirt like this in Beijing.) Would I have a Hello Kitty keychain and own an exhorbitant amount of stickers?

BLARGH! I'm getting the heebie-jeebies. Excuse me while I rock back and forth, chanting "I don't like Pokemon, I don't like Mao, and I don't like neo-mullets."