You’ve probably heard it too, and I’m telling you - “Watch Me Whip” is literally the worst song in existence. But those instances always gave me the option to scroll past, or mute, or fling whatever device the noise was coming from out of my second-story apartment into the parking lot below. I’d heard this particular nauseating tune before, both from dumb YouTube videos circulating my Facebook newsfeed and on Sportscenter because ESPN is in the midst of a sad free-falling identity crisis. This inescapable aural assault caught me completely off guard. The song was so awful I thought it may have been a joke, like maybe there were some rowdy youths loose in the press box executing their plan to prank their parents and student body on senior night. Then the first half came to a close, and the musical equivalent of getting poked repeatedly in the face by an older brother began blasting over the grainy PA speakers. Cool autumn air, good company, a bag of assorted candy and a fairly entertaining football game combined for one excellent way to start a weekend. I was sitting on Bear River high school’s metal bleachers having an otherwise lovely evening.

Now watch me