Ok, so everything beneath this sentence was written during my 7am to 7pm shift at the hospital where I work as switchboard operator last Sunday, the 14th…quite a long day…
12.14.03
9:47 am
At this moment it is 9:47 AM and I am in the Communications center at TCC (the hospital I sometimes work at as switchboard operator). I’ve been here for two hours and forty-eight minutes now and when I walked in at seven, the radio was set to WCBS, the news station. I don’t know if any of you ever listen to WCBS, but here’s how it goes: Something happens…anything and it is talked about over and over and over and over ALL FUCKING DAY. This story (today it happens to be the capture of Saddam Hussein) is reported, then the weather is given, then a commercial, then sports, then commercials, then Saddam, then traffic, then a commercial, then Saddam, then weather, then a commercial, then sports, then a commercial, then Saddam et fucking cetera, literally, all day. If you are skeptic, try it some time. Then picture yourself locked in a small room with this radio for twelve hours. The only things that changes in these news “reports” are the descriptive terms. “The people of Iraq are: joyous/jubilant/happy/celebrant/horny/dancing/exultant/erect/slimy/tall after hearing the news.” At the start of the day it was simply them talking incessantly about “unconfirmed reports” which they kept reporting until finally some top brass nut sac over in Iraq made a two minute statement…which was then sampled incessantly over and over and over and over. I heard that Fuck Stick G. Paul Willard or whatever say, "Ladies and gentlemen…(pause meaningfully because you know this is the equivalent of the moon landing or the invention of Viagra and you know it will be quoted for THOUSANDS of years to come)…we got him” about nine hundred times. Then there are the sports. Since there are only five sets of scores, they were listed about six thousand times. Then, of course, the absolutely in-depth DISCUSSIONS about the weather. I swear to God that I would rather them try to count the snowflakes than TALK about the snow. Jesus. I hate Saddam more for being caught than for all his atrocities. Then again, they would have just jabbered about some other shit. God I hate things.
P.S. Among the other things I hate are the people who say, “Does this mean the war is over?” almost as many times as, “And now…more on the Capture of Saddam Hussein…on WCBS…dun dun dun…
10:57 am
Okay, so some well-meaning but utterly damned-for-their-crime-against-humanity person just changed the station to…before I say it I want you all to imagine something worse than what I mentioned before…oh and New York City does NOT have any country music stations before you jump to that almost-equally-beshitted conclusion. Did you guess yet? Wrong. The answer is fucking “lite” stations that convert to “all your favorite Christmas music ALL THE TIME” starting November first. I figured out the reason why I hate Christmas music (this kind, at least) so much. It really has nothing to do with my feelings for or against Christmas. Not at all. It has to do with the fact that this kind of music sucks blood-laced shit from the still-warm anus of an obese suicide. THAT’S why I hate it, because it does that whole shit thing. Those goddamned breathy renditions of “Do You Hear What I Hear?”, those fucking twangy-ass versions of “The First Noel”, those creepy pre-pubescent covers of “Little Drummer Boy” and worst of all: any and every song that uses a Casio keyboard to imitate bells, trumpets, violins or any fucking instrument. The list of good Christmas songs is very short and includes the following songs:
First, Prince’s “Another Lonely Christmas.” This song is about one of Prince’s girlfriends who died on Christmas a few years before. Every Christmas since then he “drinks banana daiquiris until I’m blind”. I think it’s amazing to have a Christmas song in which the only thing that is associated with Christmas is loss and death. So sad, so powerful, so lovesexy. Only Prince can make a dead love sexy.
Next, the They Might Be Giants In Holidayland EP. This EP features the songs:
“Careless Santa”, which is about a guy retelling his tale of a Careless Santa. “Bag of money/Was all I asked him for” and Santa delivers…by robbing a bank then dropping the money down the chimney and breaking the guy’s arm. Then, the police trace the money back to the guy who is unable to escape because of his broken arm.
There’s also “Santa’s Beard” which features the line “I saw my baby wearing Santa’s beard/She kissed him once and whispered in his ear/I wish he would go/He’s breaking up my home”. That there kind of sums up the song although there is a lot more to it. Then there’s “Santa Claus” a song by the Sonics, covered by TMBG. This song is about wanting everything for Christmas and getting nothing…for not particular reason. Also, the original German version of “O Tannenbaum” sung slow and sad. Very “all I want for Christmas is my two slit wrists”. Finally there’s “Feast of Lights”, a crushingly depressing Chanukah song about only seeing people around the holidays, but fighting bitterly with them nonetheless.
Also on this short list are two songs by eels. The first, “Christmas Is Going to The Dogs” is a Christmas song from a dog’s perspective. Sounds borderline, I know, but since it’s written and performed by E (lead singer and mastermind of eels, you uneducated floozy) it isn’t corny at all, it ends up sounding ironic and smirking, plus, it, like the next song, rocks hard. There’s also “Everything’s Gonna Be Cool This Christmas” which sounds, just like “Christmas Is Going to The Dogs”, borderline corny, but again since it’s eels, it is anything but. The title is not a true fact, but more a fevered mantra muttered by the singer in order to assure himself that, no matter how bad it was last year or the year before “everything’s gonna be cool THIS Christmas”, but based on the lyrics, sarcastic and biting and intoned with such contempt and disbelief, he can’t quite convince himself.
Aside from these, there’s a Beck song called “Little Drum Machine Boy” which is indescribably and stratospherically funky. Funkier than James Brown’s underwear.
Those are the only songs with lyrics that I will tolerate/enjoy. As far as instrumentals go, wow, that’s a dangerous country. Since most instrumental Christmas music drives me into a genocidal rage (due to the aforementioned fucking Casio keyboard mutations) but there is something excellent in this field: The Vince Guraldi Trio’s score to “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown”. This soundtrack is made up of tired old Christmas songs played softly and subtly by one of the greatest Jazz trio’s ever and it also features the funniest/creepiest Christmas song I’ve ever heard called “Christmastime is Here Again”. That is the only original/vocal track on the album. Everything else is bass, piano and drums- REAL bass, REAL piano and REAL drums, not a Casio in earshot.
See, pretty short fucking list, and yet I still hear abysmal R&B versions of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”, “fun” bluesy permutations of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and more shit in that same vein. Then there are the “funny” or “clever” Christmas songs; parodies and “kooky” Christmas songs like “Christmas in Hollis” by Run DMC and “Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer.” These “funny” songs serve only to insult, bore and enrage the listener. And personally, I feel that “Christmas in Hollis” is the reason the guy from Run DMC was gunned down, but that’s just me. Oh and P.S., all of those “A Very Special Christmas” CD’s? I feel that each and every participant in these should be given AIDS for making life that much worse for those who are going to be alive for the twenty or thirty thousand repeat playings. Those AIDS patients are lucky! They just get a letter signed by this famous people saying, “Hey there!! Sorry you’re dying of a terrible disease, but don’t worry, the pain and agony you feel now will be visited upon the world ten thousand fold once we record this fucking album. You’ll be long gone and hopefully the news that this atrocity shall be committed will make you feel better about dying! Best Wishes, Vanessa Williams/Elton John/ Yo Yo Ma/Simon etc.”
And “Jingle Bell Rock”? No. No no NO! “Jingle Bells” should NOT be made to “rock,” it should stop and be forgotten. Just fucking end. Bam. Done.
With all this terrible music floating around and stabbing us in the brain, is anyone really surprised that the suicide rate is so high? I’ll tell you one thing, no one is slitting their wrists because of Jesus, they’re doing it because of goddamn Kenny fucking G and his skin flute. He should wrap his lips ad the barrel of a shotgun and record that.
And Elvis donga Christmas song? Fuck that! He’s as Christian as Satan’s gay, heroin-addict brother. Why the fuck didn’t he ever record a song about jerking off to fat girls in white cotton panties wrestling? It would have meant more. Then John Lennon doing that creepy “drugged children on backup” song? Why the hell would he write a song about Jesus’ Birthday? He’s bigger than him. Asshole.
You know, one of the biggest problems is that there isn’t a shitload of Christmas songs to begin with. That’s why there are about eighty different shitty versions each of the dozen of so songs that exist and the rest are shitty original works. The one thing I will support wholeheartedly is Jingle Dogs. That’s some dope shit.
“I Hope That I Get Anal for Christmas”
By
Guido Paparazzi
Verse 1
The tree is up, the snow is down
Even Ebenezer couldn’t wear a frown
The kids are all thinking of that Santa clown
But not me, baby, I’m dreaming of your brown
Chorus
I hope I get anal for Christmas
I really hope that I do
I hope you’ll let me baby
Let me stick it in your poo
Verse 2
The town is dressed in flashing lights
Even the Grinch wouldn’t put up a fight
Hon, you shouldn’t be afraid of my Manly Might
Please let me get anal tonight
Chorus
Verse 3
The children are sledding, you can hear them shout
They think they know what this season’s about
Well, they don’t, but I do, without a doubt
Now I’ll put my penis where the poop comes out
Chorus
Verse 4
Oh how I love you let me count the ways…
What? You think ‘cuz I like the butt I’m gay?!
You crazy, babe, you don’t know what you say
I guess I’m just a Pirate of the Hershey Highway
I’m just coo coo…for poo poo…
5:28 pm
So, some hemorrhoid turned the radio back on, but to neither “news” nor “shit”, at least not Christmas shit. It’s the local R&B station. I’m not writing to blast the Blacks or anything, that’s www.kkk.com/blasttheblacks . I’m writing because in the past half hour, forty-five minutes in which I’ve been forced to listen to WBCX I’ve figured out the mathematical formula to making successful R&B.
Now we all know that R&B stands for Rhythm (which this music has, but then again if you fart regularly enough, so do you) and Blues (there’s nothing “blue” about these artists as far as “sadness” goes because every one of these bastards make more money than God, who’s worth about 6.2 billion) but what we don’t know why these high school drug dealers/drop outs/deadbeat fathers/another stereotype make so much money from it. Well, because of the FORMULA.
{a + b + c = z}
Now “z” can be a few different things, but since this IS a mathematic formula, “a”, “b” and “c” must always be the same. Here we go:
a = Title of song, repeated over and over throughout duration of song in a breathy, sometimes harmonized voice.
b = Spoken/crooned/whined/moaned lyrics rife with very thinly veiled sexual terminology and utterances of incitation and/or approval such as “Woo!”, “Yeah!”, “Come on!”, “All right!” etc.
c = A slow, 4/4 beat, usually constructed on a child’s synthesizer (i.e. “Playskool’s My First Keyboard” or “The Keyboard for the Mentally Handicapped”)
Although there is the OPTION of adding elements to the formula, as long as your R&B song is comprised of “a”, ”b” and “c”, your result will be “z”.
As stated, “z” can equal different products; here are some of the most common results:
z = financial rewards (“bling-bling”), vaginal secretions from stupid women (“juicy hos”), plus others.
Just thought I’d share.
12.17.03
12:23 pm
There, no matter how boring you found this, I had to live it, so shut up and die.
No comments:
Post a Comment