By now, everyone and their mothers have heard of Rebecca Black. She exploded onto the internet two weeks ago with her song “Friday” and its accompanying video.

Many have already dubbed it the worst pop song of all time and for good reason. Black’s voice sounds like a demon straight out of auto-tune hell. The lyrics include such poetic gems as, “Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday. Today is Friday, Friday,” and the video seems like a cheesy parody of itself.

Black’s breakout success represents everything that is wrong with the modern recording industry.

Oh, and don’t forget the awkwardly placed rap portion in the middle with a guy talking about swerving around school buses. Who is this guy, and isn’t he a bit old to be going to parties with 13-year-olds? He has a moustache.

The song’s become a viral car crash – awful to listen to but impossible to turn away from. It’s garnered 61 million views (and counting) on YouTube, 37,000 downloads on iTunes and has already been covered by the Jonas Brothers.

It’s also baffled the music media, leaving some to wonder if it was all actually some kind of Borat-esque joke criticizing the recording industry itself. Rolling Stone called it “an unintentional parody of modern pop,” while Time magazine deemed it “a whole new level of bad.” Other criticisms weren’t so polite – one YouTube comment urged Black to “go cut yourself and die.”

Ouch, that’s painful to hear. Then again, though, so is the song.

Black has taken a lot of criticism from, well, practically everybody over the song, and while some of it might be deserved, a lot of it seems misdirected.

For instance, she didn’t write the song. In fact, she had very little to do with its final outcome at all. Most of that is the result of Ark Music Factory, a record label of sorts, which Black’s mother paid $2,000 in exchange for the recording and video of one of two songs.

Black chose “Friday” because, as she told The Daily Beast, “The other song was about adult love – I haven’t experienced that yet.”

She talked about the background of the song on “Good Morning America,” where, far from the anti-Christ of music some have pinned her as, she actually comes off as a sweet kid only in a little over her head.

When one critic complained, “I hate her voice. It’s going to be stuck in my head forever,” Black responded with a childish grin. “Well, I think that’s an accomplishment, you know?” she said.

“Even if someone doesn’t like it, it’s still stuck in their head. That’s the point of it, a catchy song.”

If anyone deserves criticism for this whole debacle, it’s Black’s mother and the producers. Anyone who would pay $2,000 for her daughter to have a record deal should have her head checked.

And any songwriter who would write a song about whether to sit in the front or backseat should have his or her fingers chopped off to protect the world from anymore aural assaults.

Black has learned a few important lessons from her 15 minutes of fame – lessons all of us in our look-at-me culture would be wise to heed.

For one, when out for the public to see, expect some amount of criticism in return. This is especially true in the world of music, in which people’s tastes and views are as personal as religion.

That’s part of the reason for the ferociousness of the backlash. Music is an intimate thing for many people. Right or wrong, they take music this bad as a personal insult.

For them, “Friday” sums up everything wrong with today’s music industry in a single, four-minute sample.

An even broader lesson, though, is this – when we seek out fame, sometimes we find it, but not for the reasons we want. It’s a lesson many reality TV stars have learned the hard way: It’s easier to become famous for something bad than something good. In the quest for stardom, overnight popularity is more often found with infamy than dignity.

Luckily for Black, the Internet has the attention span of a hyperactive 12-year-old on a sugar high. Things are forgotten as quickly as they blow up, so Black will fade away pretty soon, which is probably best if she ever wants to be a serious singer.

Maybe she can try again in a few years, this time with decent producers and a song that doesn’t involve singing the days of the week.

Until then, she should probably just laugh along with the crowd.

After all, there’s a certain amount of pride in having sung one of the worst pop songs ever.