Set the critique meters to "scathing"

Here's a song subtly critiquing high school romances. Or praising them. It's tough to tell.





Also, why do the words "scathing" and "critique" go together so often? Who decided that one?

Ya Got Trouble

In lieu of a real post, I'm posting the lyrics to a song that I'm trying to memorize at the moment. That's right, I'm cheating at my blog. Muhahahah.

Ya Got Trouble

Well, either you're closing your eyes 

To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge

Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated

By the presence of a pool table in your community.

Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, 

I say, trouble right here in River City. 

Why sure I'm a billiard player,

Certainly mighty proud I say 

I'm always mighty proud to say it. 

I consider that the hours I spend 

With a cue in my hand are golden. 

Help you cultivate horse sense

And a cool head and a keen eye. 

Never take and try to give

An iron-clad leave to yourself 

From a three-rail billiard shot?

But just as I say, 

It takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score

In a balkline game, 

I say that any boob kin take

And shove a ball in a pocket. 

And they call that sloth. 

The first big step on the road

To the depths of deg-ra-Day--

I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon,

Then beer from a bottle. 

An' the next thing ya know, 

Your son is playin' for money

In a pinch-back suit. 

And list'nin to some big out-a-town Jasper

Hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. 

Not a wholesome trottin' race, no!

But a race where they set down right on the horse! 

Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy 

Sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? 

Well, I should say. 

Friends, lemme tell you what I mean.

Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. 

Pockets that mark the diff'rence

Between a gentlemen and a bum, 

With a capital "B," 

And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! 

And all week long your River City

Youth'll be frittern away, 

I say your young men'll be frittern!

Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too!

Get the ball in the pocket,

Never mind gittin' Dandelions pulled

Or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 

'Til your parents are caught with the Cistern empty

On a Saturday night and that's trouble,

Oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble.

I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, 

Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool 

Hall window after school, look, folks! 

Right here in River City. 

Trouble with a capital "T"

And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool!

Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. 

I'm gonna be perfectly frank.

Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

On while they're loafin' around that Hall? 

They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs,

Tryin' out Tailor Mades like Cigarette Feends!

And braggin' all about

How they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen.

One fine night, they leave the pool hall,

Headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry!

Libertine men and Scarlet women! 

And Rag-time, shameless music

That'll grab your son and your daughter

With the arms of a jungle animal instink!

Mass-staria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

People:

Trouble, oh we got trouble, 

Right here in River City! 

With a capital "T" 

That rhymes with "P"

And that stands for Pool,

That stands for pool.

We've surely got trouble!

Right here in River City, 

Right here!

Gotta figger out a way

To keep the young ones moral after school!

Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble...

Harold:

Mothers of River City!

Heed the warning before it's too late!

Watch for the tell-tale sign of corruption!

The moment your son leaves the house,

Does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee? 

Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger?

A dime novel hidden in the corn crib?

Is he starting to memorize jokes from Capt.

Billy's Whiz Bang?

Are certain words creeping into his conversation?

Words like 'swell?"

And 'so's your old man?" 

Well, if so my friends,

Ya got trouble,

Right here in River city!

With a capital "T"

And that rhymes with "P"

And that stands for Pool.

We've surely got trouble!

Right here in River City!

Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule!

Oh, we've got trouble. 

We're in terrible, terrible trouble. 

That game with the fifteen numbered balls is a devil's tool! 

Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!

With a "T"! Gotta rhyme it with "P"! 

And that stands for Pool!!!

Here: hear

One of Larry's recent ones, it's the best.

Island Man

Here's another of my songs. I wrote it last Labor Day weekend, along with Clue and a couple others. It's my second favorite, after Clue. 


For maximum impact, it should be sung with a strong Jamaican accent.






Island Man

I'm on an island

with some tropical heat

but my island's in

the middle of the street

My island's not

quite up to the hype

it's your more non-

traditional type

The ocean has been 

replaced with land

just a lotta asphalt

and a handful of sand

It's still an island

an island to me

it's just a traffic

island, you see

I'm on an island

but I can't get free

All the cars are

trapping me

They're on all sides

They go by so fast

I can't find a

way to get past

I'm on an island

and it's really great

except for all the

times I hallucinate

Gotta lotta visions

They're all caused

By too many fumes

of exhaust

I'm on an island

and it's hard to see

All the smog

can't be healthy

I'm on an island

got a cooking fire

 made it out of 

one old tire

I'm on an island

There's not much to do

to kill some time

I can make a stew

Using roadkill and

other stuff I find

maybe I'll throw in

that pumpkin rind

I'm on an island

and the only fish I see

are at the Skipper's 

restaurant next to me

I'm on an island

here I make my bed

on the curb 

that's painted red

I'm on an island

But it's hard to sleep

All the trucker's horns

are so darn deep

I'm here all day

I gotta lot of time

If you pass by

could you spare a dime?

Mandy with a beard

While browsing youtube recently, I found a spectacular clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OZfoFAs2u4

It's from the David Letterman show. The guy singing is Mandy Patinkin, an actor/singer most famous for his role as Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride. According to a few youtubers who posted on the video, Mandy and Tony Randell, some other famous guy, would occasionally drop in on Dave's show on their way to Broadway, joking around about how they were late.

They heard that the show wasn't going very well, so they decided to let Mandy give an impromptu rehearsal to spice things up. All the laughter during the clip is because it was completely and therefore delightfully unexpected.

This is proof that Mandy Patinkin is epic.



Side note: You might remember my post ranting about youtubers over here. I recant my position a bit, since they helped me to appreciate the video with their background information on it. But they're not completely perfect... One person only commented:  "hes hot with a beard... go mandy!", which doesn't restore faith.

Clue: an addendum

I just remembered an amusing anecdote related to the poem from my last post. 


When I originally showed it to Evan, he wasn't very gung-ho about it. In fact, being the straight-forward guy that he is, he was clear to tell me that it was pretty lame. I was surprised and disappointed at this, since, like I said, it's my personal favorite of the poems I've written. However, after I questioned him for a while, I discovered why he didn't like it: he didn't realize that it was based off of the game Clue. Apparently, he's never played it or even heard of it. 


I was very (0.o) about this turn of events, as I'm pretty sure that Clue is one of the most famous board games ever. It's at least in the top ten, below Monopoly but above Scrabble. I guess Chess and Checkers are probably at the top... but I digress. After I explained to Evan what Clue was, he grudgingly admitted that my poem was a bit funnier in context. Still, I suspect that his lack of enthusiasm has greatly slowed the process of transition from poem to song. Hopefully, I can twist his arm a bit when summer comes along, and he doesn't have as much work.

Get a Clue

Clue

It's a dark and stormy night

At the home of Mr Boddy

He has six guests and

one of them was naughty

With a scuffle in the dark

And a murder most iconic

Mr Boddy's surname has 

Proven quite ironic

It's a terrible mystery

The burden falls on you

To solve the crime of history

You need to get a clue

As investigators go you

Are not as smart as most

When it comes to forensics

You are dumber than a post

Cuz you can't tell by looking

Which weapon did him in

Was it a gunshot or a stabbing

Or those rope burns on his chin?

The time has come for questioning

In vain they filibustered

You march them all into the Hall

And start with Colonel Mustard

You question him with relish

But his intellect is slow

You try to make him catch up

But he's Mustard as you know

You move on to Mrs Peacock

And it's clear she's feeling blue

But she's a proud old bird

And does not provide a clue

Next up is Miss Scarlett 

clad in the color she loves

Red-handed but that's a herring

She's only wearing her gloves

Mrs White is white with fright

And so is Mr Green

In contrast with Professor Plum

Who seems so peachy-keen

You find a secret passage

As the night draws on

But the crime is yet unsolved

And now it's nearing dawn

You riffle through the study

And then you find a paper

You finally have the clue you need

To solve this dreadful caper

None of the guests are guilty

The culprit has another face

It turns out Mr Boddy 

owned Boardwalk and Park Place

The culprit wears a top hat

And seeks monopoly

And though you send him straight to jail

he just might get out free

This is one of my favorites out of all the poems I've written. I'm hoping that I can get Evan to make a song out of it. 

Go jamba-jam!

Tonight, I happened to be listening to two very different, and both rather strange, songs on youtube. After I had listened to them back-to-back, I was struck with how weird they are. I figured I'd let you guys "enjoy" them. :P



and




Which song is better? Compare and contrast.

Song One: New York Night

This is the (chronological) first song in the musical project that I'm working on, tentatively titled A Jolly Good Musical. I'm planning to write a total of 12 songs, which, when put together, will tell a complete story. Each song is like an episode, and will be a fairly self-contained story that should feel as if it belongs to an actual musical play, but all 12 songs together will tell the story perfectly fine, without any extra dialog besides what I may throw in at the beginning and end of each song.

Just for the record, I am employing unnecessarily detailed stage directions as a way to get the story across as well as the occasional good-sized amount of dialog.

Anyway, I might improve upon this song in the future, since I don't think it's quite the literary rhyming masterpiece it could be. Comments are welcome and wanted.



1. New York Night

    In New York, two figures walk down a street, dodging into alleys and dark corners, while glancing furtively around.

    Street lamps light the way on the otherwise empty street.

    This being a musical, one of the men, Simon Privett, spontaneously breaks into song.

Simon:
It's twelve o'clock; the witching hour
the night is dark and damp and dour
but in the town
no lights are down
The street venders are out and hawking flowers

People bustle about just like busy bees
Jostling each other with never a "please"

And that's terrible-

    The shorter and more portly man, Ed Hoff, comments.

Ed:

Quite!

Simon:

But it's still alright

So long as you can avoid their fleas.

Tonight I find myself out on the street

Enjoying the non-fresh air on my two feet

With this guy Ed

Who's my dear friend
I've just finished a job to make ends meet.

Ed:

"A job," he says. That's rather droll

We're not out here for a simple stroll

We're on the run

For a con we've done

And now escape is our only goal

Somewhere behind a store clerk waits
Though to be fair, I doubt he hates
us since he's Amish

despite our con-

    Simon breaks in innocently.

Simon:

...ish.

Ed:

I'm sure he'll forgive us post-haste!

    Up the street, a trio of policemen show up, dressed in the old-fashioned costumes of the 1920's. They proceed to peer suspiciously and authoritatively into every window of every shop along the street, almost bumping into each other as they go.

    They resemble three of those rocking toys that flip back up after being tipped over.

Cops:

It's twelve o'clock on a New York night
Us New York cops have just begun the fight

Cop 1:

I'm a New York cop

Cop 2:

And I'm here to stop

Cop 3:

This enormous thief-and-scoundrel blight.

Cops:

You'll find in each nook and cranny in town

A crook or a fiend or merely a clown

We'll get Simon and Ed

be they alive or dead

It'll give us a smile, and give them... a frown.

    Up ahead, Simon and Ed continue the song.

Ed:

If we are caught, we're out of luck

In a pickle is where we will be stuck

Since to be clear
We stole a deer

Simon:

But come now, who'll miss just one buck?

And after all, the venison's gone

Been in our stomachs for far too long
And I would hate

To regurgitate

A meal that makes my body strong.

    The cops still search fruitlessly.

Cop 1:

They're over here, by this dead end.

Cop 2:

No, I see them here, just around the bend.

Cop 3:

This won't do

We need a clue

Let's all question this by-standing bartend.

    By now they've worked their way up to where Simon and Ed are. Ed is leaning on a barrel by the side of the road, wearing a false mustache. Simon is nowhere to be seen.

    The cops approach Ed, having mistaken him for a reliable witness.

Ed:

You say the manhunt must be directed?

By an informant, no doubt respected?

Two sneaky crooks

With dashing good looks

Just hopped a train for New Jersey directed

Cop 1: (spoken)
New Jersey! There's not a moment to lose!

Cop 2:

Have a tip for your trouble, good sir.

The cops leave. 

    Ed removes his false mustache and Simon emerges from the pork barrel that Ed is leaning on.

Simon: (slow)

It's twelve o'clock in New York state

Gone are the cops we love to hate

As they chase a wild goose

It is time to cut foot-loose

Moving the opposite direction is our fate

    With this said, Simon and Ed nimbly scoot off into the night.

Coming soon.... ~ Song Two: Trains and Revenge

A Jolly Good Musical

A Jolly Good Musical is the actual working title of a musical that I may be writing. I might only write the songs for it, since those are the fun parts, but I'm also considering writing the whole thing and using it as a way to try to be as clever and funny in as many different ways as I possibly can.

I got the idea way back during the final round of a debate tournament several months ago. I was a little bored and decided to write out an idea that had been kicking feverishly around in my head for a while, turning it into a song. It fit best as a musical number, so I added a little introduction naming all the characters. I also decided that one of them was after a pocket watch that belonged to another of them. By the time I was done, I had a chunk of story that felt as if it were part of a screwball musical comedy. Now, this was all well and good, but unfortunately, my mind kept working on it, and ended up figuring out the rest of the plot to go with it.

Here's a synopsis that I've written of it.  Although it's subject to change, it should give a pretty good idea of what the story's like. Except it'll be funnier.

    Simon Pivett, a city boy with large, though decidedly materialistic, dreams, is in search of the Earnheart fortune, a treasure said to have been hidden somewhere in the town of Hufflebump by Old Captain Earnheart the pirate. After finding a clue that the secret to its location might lie with the captain's old pocket watch, Simon must attempt to get his hands on it, handicapped by a rival gang of thieves, a vengeful government agent, a cranky housekeeper, an annoyingly spunky love interest, and an insane old man whose mutterings concerning the eminent End of the World might be foreshadowing something a bit more disturbing than anyone could imagine.

Me Online #2

#TWO: The FuMP

My friend Evan, who the majority of my esteemed readers may already be familiar with, happens to be pretty awesome at music. And music... stuff. As you might have noticed from my use of the word "stuff", I'm not that highly educated in that particular field. But I am pretty good at making jokes, writing stories, and such creative endeavors.

Together, Evan and I made a song, with my part being composing the lyrics, and his part being writing the music, recording it, and editing it. I sent it in to a website, the FuMP (Funny Music Project), where it was published.



It didn't get any comments. I was kinda hoping for some, even if they were just complaining about it. I think that we can do even better then that song, which ended up being more of a satirical punk rock song than a funny one. I've written several more songs, and I'm waiting on Evan to make them, but he has a lot of schoolwork to worry about at the moment, so we're biding our time.