Daddy Daze: Katy Perry is the devil!

Walking down the hall past my stepdaughters bedroom, I hear the unmistakable vocal trill of Katy Perry.

Katy Perry? I muse when Meghan opens the door. You like Katy Perry?

Yeah.

But shes wildly inappropriate the worst role model of all time. Shes brazen, shes trashy, she sings about things like dancing on tabletops and taking too many shots. Why are you listening to Katy Perry when sweet, wholesome Taylor Swift has a new record? Where did you even get a Katy Perry album in the first place?

You bought it for me, she points out.

I did?

Yeah, for Christmas.

Yikes, its true. In my frenzy of pre-holiday shopping, mindlessly roaming from one generic mall store to the next, I barely glanced at the lists Id been given, surrendering it to the first available sales clerk in hopes of beating a hasty retreat.

As a sometime arts critic, I probably should have put more thought into it, but who pays attention to Katy Perry, one of a half dozen pre-fab, electro-pop queens who dominate Top 40 airwaves with sexed-up images and overproduced, sound-alike hits?

Frankly, it wasnt until I looked up her lyrics on the net that it hit me how wildly unsuitable the Auto-Tuned pin-up with the atomic brassiere that shoots whipped cream is as a role model for pre-adolescent girls.

We went streaking in the park, skinny dipping in the dark, she sings on Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.). Then had a menage a trois.

Menage a trois? I flip the CD player to Teenage Dream: Lets go all the way tonight ... no regrets.

No regrets? I flip to California Gurls: Sex on the beach ... weve got white sand in our stilettos ...

OK, thats it, I tell Meghan, whos gazing at me with a look of annoyed condescension. Were gonna have a talk.

She slumps visibly.

First of all, I intone like a pious Sunday school teacher whose lips have never touched alcohol, Katy Perry is the devil. Second, her songs will corrupt your innocence. And third, wh! y sing a bout streaking in the park, skinny dipping in the dark and having a menage a trois? Why not sing about square dancing at the hoedown, having a soda at Dairy Queen and playing Parcheesi with your parents?

Meghan, used to my Geraldo-style interviewing technique, regards me grimly.

Playing Parcheesi with your parents? she responds, exasperated. Thats horrible its like what nerds would do on a Friday night.

As I continue my lecture, it comes out that Meghan how could I have missed this? is not only completely unscathed by Perrys salacious leanings, shes also:

1.) not an impressionable nitwit. I wouldnt just go out and dance on tabletops, she insists. Only dumb idiots would do that.

2.) Smarter than me (or less prone to hysteria), acknowledging that while Perrys lyrics may be objectionable, she represents something that, in itself, is not inherently damaging: freedom.

She takes chances, notes this precocious pre-teen, poking holes in my fabricated outrage.

Miley Cyrus (kiddie star turned bong-snorting sex queen) dresses like a stripper and does drugs, but Katy Perry didnt start out on a TV show with tons of parents and kids trust, so she has the right to do what she wants with her body and lyrics.

What?

Shes a good role model because shes not stuck up and not full of herself and shes a lot of fun. Shes the Cyndi Lauper of our generation. People need to be laid-back about this kind of stuff.

To my surprise, my wife agrees.

Shes like Betty Boop, notes Alicia, who grew up with 80s Madonna and sees no difference. Its bubblegum sex. I dont think it really penetrates her skull so Im not too worried about it.

Meghan is taking in the empowerment and ignoring the sex. Its not affecting her world. She still plays with Barbies.

More concerning, she says, is yikes again pious, clean-cut Taylor Swift, because she sings sad songs about missing boys and the importance of men in your life, and is that a better message? I dont love Katy Perrys ! lyrics, but Id rather have Meghan listen to this stupid song about partying.

As she finishes her sentence, toddler Sam waddles in, drops to one knee and with no formal introduction bursts into song: WE WENT STWEAKING IN THE PAWK, he warbles passionately. SKINNY DIPPING IN THE DAWK, THEN WE HAD A ...

Ah nuts. As Al Pacino said in The Godfather III, just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.