Adventures in Bad Lyrics, volume eight: Leaving No Trace of Doubt

So, by “bad lyrics”, I mean (in addition to my own work) poorly or sloppily executed, as in (sometimes unnecessarily) forced rhymes (“…she twist and turn that thang…like a puppet on a strang…”) or extending a single syllable over several beats (“Eight Six Seven Five Three Oh Nigh Eee Ayn!”).

Also bad as in wicked, cruel, or evil.

I love The Beatles but I am a little creeped out by Maxwell’s Silver Hammer (“…came down upon his head…”), and even more disturbed by Run for Your Life (“I’d rather see you dead little girl…?” Please Paul, help John with his lyrics.)

Pop lyrics tell us that we are slaves to our impulses ( “The girl can‘t help it!”) and that free lunches are real. “Somebody hit the lights, so we can rock it day and night” leaves out too many steps. What I hear is, “Somebody [else forego consumption, and accumulate the capital reserves, to finance research and development, and build the infrastructure, to generate and distribute power, so some spoiled child can] hit the lights!

They also tell us that women love to be dismissed, diminished, and denigrated. If it’s not true how could a popular song boast such beautiful sentiments as, “Hey, [insignificant object], let me [take care of the technical stuff. Due to my mother issues], I’m [difficult to deal with.]” Or, if you prefer the original Klingon: “Hey little thing let me light your candle. ‘Cause o’ Mama, I’m hard to handle.” …171114

If I DON’T like girls who are faster, or stronger, or smarter, or braver than me, then I MIGHT not like her, I MIGHT not like her.

Nice of her to settle the issue. In fact, it’s just plain decent of her to confess her deficiencies so clearly. Since “might” equals “might not” she’s telling the world that if I satisfy the first condition (not liking girls who are faster, stronger, &c), I still might like her (because “might not” equals “might”), so therefore I am faster, stronger, smarter, and braver than she is.

Okeh… but so what? Actually I‘m a little miffed that she would think so little of my ego as to suspect that I’d have any problem with competent women in the first place, and a little sad that she thinks so little of her own ego that she has to clarion her weaknesses to the world.
190119


Adventures in Bad Lyricsis sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Three United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  843 Carson Drive;  Lebanon, Ohio;  45036

Media Madness

(meter stolen from Graham Nash)

In a cloistered room in Congress,
Under wraps so the world can’t see,
The President is hobbled,
In the name of “Democracy!”

Mueller-Trump Madness is thrilling the country!
It’s partisan hack work! It’s Dems on a spree!

Did Putin hack Her e-mails?
Did Assange let the truth get free?
Will schemers share the details,
For suborning perjury?

Manafort Madness is filling my country
With shock and amusement, free of dignity!

181128

Oldie, the Round-Heeled Spice Girl

w/ Robi Jo &al (000301)

Well you know
Ginger, and Baby, and Sporty, and Scary,
Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Posh and Rosemary!
But do you recall,
The most ancient Spice Girl of all!

Hello my name is Old Spice,
And I wear the lamest clothes.
My legs are veined and wrinkly,
And I don’t wear pantyhose.
All of the other Spice Girls
Put out for the football team.
They just will not believe that
I was once their Pops’ wet dream.

When Versace hosts a ball,
We’ll show up to play!
When that party starts to stall
Then we’re on our way!
If you wanna be my lover,
Ya gotta get up with my friends.
But if you think it’s too much bother,
Then you can just kiss our rear ends!

* * * * * * * Oh Zarms * * * * * * *

Meeting the meter is my metier, and I often fall for the allure of alliteration. But getting back to meter. What follows is kind of a collaboration, I guess. I don’t know if I actually wrote any of it, though I will confess to rearranging M Rouget de Lisle‘s brilliant original. You may have noticed that irrespective of melody many songs have matching meters (I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke, House of the Rising Sun, and Amazing Grace, for one memorable example.) And some meters merely overlap, sometimes just barely glancing off each other. My all-time favorite national anthem, Les Marseilles, has an amusing overlap with another favorite. To get yourself started before you start reading, try whistlin’ Dixie.

Allons enfant de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivez.
Aux armes! Aux armes! Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons, marchon, marchon!
Formez vos bataillons.  Marchon pour Dieu et Patrie.
Aux armes, aux armes, aux armes pour Dieu et Patrie.
Marchon, marchon. Aux armes pour Dieuuuuuuuuu…
Et Patrie!

140714

“You Need Bob Loblaw!” (180605)

( — or — Joanie Loves Litigation)
dedicated to lawyers and other sufferers of arrested development

If you got troubles,
If you got legal woes,
Just give a call to Bob Loblaw.
He’ll file your papers,
He’ll get your probate through,
You can rely on Bob Loblaw.

“Ow Ow Ooo, Ow Ow Ooo Ooo Ooo!”
You slipped and fell one day.
“Ow Ow Ooo, Ow Ow Ooo Ooo Ooo!”
Call Loblaw right away!

You’ll see — HOW — far your case goes,
When you work with Bob Loblaw.
You’ll see — HOW — much your purse grows,
They cough up for Bob Loblaw.

Sue the bastards,
Every cent they own,
With the help of Bob Loblaw.
From their mansions
To their mobile homes,
They’ll remember Bob Loblaw.

“Ow Ow Ooo, Ow Ow Ooo Ooo Ooo!”
For injunctions they will call!
{“Ow Ow Ooo, Ow Ow Ooo Ooo Ooo!”}
{ Is the refrain of Bob Loblaw. }
{……repeat and fade?……}

Adventures in Bad Lyrics, volume seven: Please Unwrite This Song

We got baaaaad lyrics,
It’s a horrible song.
It’s got baaaaad lyrics,
And it goes on too long.

I wish he never ever wrote it at all.
(repeat 8000 times and fade…)
181013

Once again just like the last time and once again just like the last time and once again just like the last time and once again just like the last time and
once again just like the last time and once again just like the last time and
once again just like the last time and…

Yeah, repetitious, shall I get shall I get repetitious?
Yeah, repetitious, shall I get shall I get repetitious?
Yeah, repetitious, shall I get shall I get repetitious?
Yeah, repetitious, shall I get shall I …
190113

Adventures in Bad Lyricsis sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Three United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  843 Carson Drive;  Lebanon, Ohio;  45036

Don’t Touch My Junk (w/ John Tyner)

Well get your hands off my pants unless you plan on making love
Don’t touch my junk…

I’m not a fan of your scans, but without help from God above,
You won’t touch my junk…

I wanna fly through the skies without fear of harrassment,
And no I’m not impressed with yer professional detachment,
Yer gropin’ up my thigh provokes a natural reaction,
Don’t touch my junk!

I want to fly to the west when my trip commences,
With my self respect and my common senses,
(You don’t need to know if I am on my menses),
Don’t want irradiated and don’t want molested,
Don’t touch my junk!

I think them porno portals are carcinogenic,
The latex on yer fist don’t make you a medic,
So git yer mitts off my sweet stuff,
You’re givin’ me a headache,
Don’t touch my junk!
101123

Adventures in Bad Lyrics, volume six

Okeh, here‘s the set-up: “Take me to New York…”
And the delivery: “I’d love to see L.A.”

Hang on. Does that agree? I may have missed something. Until that girl learns a little geography, she’s bound for bitter disappointment.

If she were to say things like…
“Take me to the Louvre, I’d love to groove on art…”
“Take me to the zoo, I want to see the chimps…” or
“Take me back to Frisco, want to see the bay…”
She’d be making some sort of sense. Instead, she may as well ask,
“Take me to Nebraska, want to see the sea…” or
“Lock me in a dungeon so that I’ll be free…”

Furthermore, she gets demerits for constant repetition of “American boy” as well as ethical demerits for even suggesting that a girl needs an American (or any other) boy to get her out of her native village and into the big bad world. Isn’t shifting for oneself one of the hallmarks of adulthood?
180327

Adventures in Bad Lyricsis sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Three United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  843 Carson Drive;  Lebanon, Ohio;  45036