Is Amy Winehouse pulling a Britney Spears? The "Rehab" singer's performance at the MOBO awards may not have been quite the trainwreck that Spears's VMA debacle was, but it was certainly enough to raise some eyebrows.

Winehouse wasn't exactly helped any by the tacky she's-a-fuckup-but-we-love-her-anyway intro, but her glassy-eyed confusion during "Tears Dry on Their Own" and her mumble-mouthed incoherence on "Me and Mr. Jones" were what really sealed the deal. Also not helping subdue the chatter were the leaked reports of her backstage rider demands: two bottles each of Jack Daniels, Rioja, and Champagne, a large bottle of vodka, and two 24 bottle cases of Heineken.

Here's the thing, though: I'm all for spotting a celeb meltdown in the making, but, well, that's how Amy Winehouse always looks when she performs. I, personally, have never seen her clear-eyed or witnessed a performance where I could understand a damn word she was singing. She was already, at best, a bleary-eyed mushmouth, and at worst a woman in a steady drug-addled holding pattern. So I honestly don't know if she's really doing any worse than before.

Which begs the question: How do you know if someone's in a downward spiral if their normal standard of behavior is so far off from, well, normal?

Jennifer Lopez's "Do It Well," the first single from the new album Brave, is a funky celebration of bringing hotness and commitment together. The video, on the other hand... You know how sometimes you see a video, and you think, "Damn, that is the perfect depiction of everything that song is about," and then the song and the video really resonate with you for a long time? Yeah. This isn't one of those times.

So Jennifer Lopez is this badass beyotch in a supersexy trench coat, and she gets this message that she needs to help the world's youngest fry cook get to Union Street. So she goes to a club where they have strippers in Habitrails, pushes a guy down the stairs, gets another guy in a chokehold, has a dance break, shoves and punches eight or nine more guys, has another dance break, passes a dude in a mousetrap, has another dance break, saves the little fry cook, kicks one last guy down the stairs, and leaves. Presumably for Union Street.

Feel the heat. Feel the love. Feel the inimitable, "Look, Ma, I'm directing" style of the famously edgy David LaChapelle. Feel the need to wonder aloud, "The hell?"

Some time when I wasn't paying attention, "Crank dat Soulja Boy" seized the imaginations of... well, everyone but me, apparently. Now the Webiverse is crawling with dance tutorials, karaoke editions, and many, many homages.

You got your Soulja Spongebob, your Soulja Naruto... even Winnie the Pooh's kickin it Soulja-style. But for flawless editing, unbridled whimsy, and sheer joyous surreality, you simply can't beat the Barney edition.

Sure, the hours the creator must have spent voluntarily watching Barney might make you worry a bit. And every once in a while you may get distracted wondering what the hell those Barney kids were originally supposed to be doing. (There's one move I've dubbed the Hitlercize.) But the fact is, this is just a beautifully put-together video.

Simply put, this shit is tight, yo.