Tonight, I caught the first 5 minutes of E! News before I returned to all the work I didn't get done this afternoon. I learned that Kate Hudson and Owen Wilson are not getting married. In fact, they broke up. Owen Wilson doesn't want to talk about it. I learned that Jessica Simpson will be attending her sister's wedding without her Dallas Cowboy boyfriend because they also broke up. That sound you hear is all the Dallas Cowboy fans cheering in unison. At least their break-up brought people together.
I also learned that Denise Richards has signed a deal for her own E! network reality show. You'll recall that Denise Richards is Charlie Sheen's ex-wife. Charlie Sheen, otherwise known as Mr. Horn-Dog. Or at least he was before Ms. Richards allegedly took up with Heather Locklear's hubby, Richie Sambora of Bon Jovi fame. Ms. Richards was Ms. Locklear's best friend. Leave it to Denise Richards to find a way to make Charlie Sheen look good in all of this. Ms. Locklear found comfort in David Spade's company, so I'm really not sure who got the worst end of this mix-up.
Anyway, Ms. Richards's reality show will follow her dating escapades - because who among us doesn't want to watch an ex-model actress single mother navigate the treacherous dating waters? I'm sure it will closely mirror my own reality, except that I'm not an ex-model or an actress or a single mother. I'd feel bad about that, but I wasn't married to Charlie Sheen so I'm pretty sure I still win.
Richards explained that she wanted to do the series because she wanted everyone to see that she is done with "bad boys." I know I've stayed up nights, worrying about Denise Richards and all those bad (incredibly wealthy) boys. Finally, I can get some rest. When Ryan Seacrest asked the obvious question, "Why would you want to do this show?", Richards responded, "My mother wanted me to do this show, to show people who I really am."
Apparently, Denise Richards's mother is the only person who ever believed that reality TV is actually reality. There's something very "Being John Malkovich" about this whole scenario. Because the media has distorted Ms. Richards's identity, the only way we'll ever know her true identity is if we watch a carefully crafted and edited TV show. This is what we've come to. So much for my rest.
Showing posts with label celebrity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celebrity. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, October 22, 2007
The tracks of her tires
It's taken a very long time, but Britney Spears has finally gained my respect. Seems Ms. Spears was leaving a doctor's office last week when the ever-present paparazzi sprang from hell and surrounded her car. Somehow, the car lurched forward. Maybe she meant to press the brake pedal, maybe not. Maybe she made a conscious decision to introduce her car to the photographers, or maybe her subconscious simply decided that enough was enough. We'll probably never know. But, what we do know is that Brit's tire rolled over a photographer's foot, leaving a track across his pristine white sock. That's right, the fellow was wearing white socks with sandals. From all accounts, he walked away without apparent injury, except to his pride.
I don't think he's pressing charges, since his crime of fashion clearly outweighs Britney's minor infraction. Score one for Britney, though I bet that sock is already fetching some hefty bids on eBay.
I don't think he's pressing charges, since his crime of fashion clearly outweighs Britney's minor infraction. Score one for Britney, though I bet that sock is already fetching some hefty bids on eBay.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Wrong Wood
Last week, I went to the 90-minute yoga class. I was tired and hadn't eaten a snack so it was a very long class. And, some masochist in the front of the room suggested that we work on arms and upper body strength. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I have the upper body strength of a kangaroo and my arms dangle like limp spaghetti; however, I don't go to yoga so I can torture myself. I was not having much fun.
At the end, we did relaxation exercises. I know that I'm supposed to try to achieve some sort of meditative (or vegetative) state; but, being a good Type A personality, I use this time to plan the next day. So, while the instructor said, "Inhale deeply, then extend your exhalations to twice as long as the inhale," I thought, "So, tomorrow, I'll write the next section in chapter 4. Maybe I'll start with Ed Wood heading to the Highlander Folk School." I stopped and thought, "No, wait, Ed Wood isn't right. It was Jim Wood." I almost laughed out loud at the thought of Johnny Depp as cross-dressing Ed Wood, showing up at Highlander to talk about citizenship schools. Johnny/Ed would sit across from Myles Horton, enthusiastically waving his arms while saying, "So, we'll start schools everywhere. And there will be monsters and all the teachers will be cross-dressers. It'll be great!"
Then, I decided that I'd get Tim Burton to direct the film version of my dissertation.
At the end, we did relaxation exercises. I know that I'm supposed to try to achieve some sort of meditative (or vegetative) state; but, being a good Type A personality, I use this time to plan the next day. So, while the instructor said, "Inhale deeply, then extend your exhalations to twice as long as the inhale," I thought, "So, tomorrow, I'll write the next section in chapter 4. Maybe I'll start with Ed Wood heading to the Highlander Folk School." I stopped and thought, "No, wait, Ed Wood isn't right. It was Jim Wood." I almost laughed out loud at the thought of Johnny Depp as cross-dressing Ed Wood, showing up at Highlander to talk about citizenship schools. Johnny/Ed would sit across from Myles Horton, enthusiastically waving his arms while saying, "So, we'll start schools everywhere. And there will be monsters and all the teachers will be cross-dressers. It'll be great!"
Then, I decided that I'd get Tim Burton to direct the film version of my dissertation.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Britney and Neil, together at last
I've moved my gym operations into the big gym, out of the women's only room. I was driven into the big gym earlier this week when a bunch of ponytailed, young, fatless girls took up all the elliptical machines in the women's room (not that I'm bitter.) Thanks to them, I've discovered that the big gym is much more pleasant. The machines are farther apart and there's more going on thus doubling the people watching opportunities. It's only taken 10 weeks, but I've finally made it to the big gym - and I'm up to 45 minutes on the elliptical machine. I'll be climbing up that dog's ass in no time.
The elliptical machines are the fancy ones with individual TV screens mounted at the top of the display panel. In other words, if you're short, you might as well just look at the ceiling. Usually, I set the TV on something mindless and then listen to my iPod. I'm figuring out my preferred work-out music and let me just say, "Thank God for headphones." I can serenely pedal away while Dee Snyder insists that he's not goin' take it anymore, or Joan Jett vehemently denies that she gives a damn about her bad reputation. These are bad enough, but the other day, I found myself thinking, "Damn right, Britney, I am stronger than yesterday." Again, thank the good lord for headphones. And, yes, that's the only Britney Spears song on my iPod.
Today, I'd set my TV on the gym's music video channel, set my iPod and started pedaling. At about the 25 minute mark, I tuned in to both the music in my ears and the video on the screen. I heard Britney warbling away about being stonger than yesterday while watching a very sweaty, flannel-clad Neil Young lumber across the stage, strum his guitar and grimace while standing at the microphone. I almost burst out laughing. For a brief moment, it seemed like ole Neil had sucked down some helium and decided to sing Britney's top 10. There was Neil, grimacing away, singing, "Here I go, on my own! I don't need nobody, better off alone!" The crowd shots almost sent me over the edge. Die-hard Neil Young fans waving their arms, yelling, "Yeah, Neil! It's nothin but your way! Woohoo!"
If you'd like to experience this unique musical collaboration, here's the link to Neil's video on youtube. Turn down the volume and crank up Britney. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBS3B2cZcFM&mode=related&search=
The elliptical machines are the fancy ones with individual TV screens mounted at the top of the display panel. In other words, if you're short, you might as well just look at the ceiling. Usually, I set the TV on something mindless and then listen to my iPod. I'm figuring out my preferred work-out music and let me just say, "Thank God for headphones." I can serenely pedal away while Dee Snyder insists that he's not goin' take it anymore, or Joan Jett vehemently denies that she gives a damn about her bad reputation. These are bad enough, but the other day, I found myself thinking, "Damn right, Britney, I am stronger than yesterday." Again, thank the good lord for headphones. And, yes, that's the only Britney Spears song on my iPod.
Today, I'd set my TV on the gym's music video channel, set my iPod and started pedaling. At about the 25 minute mark, I tuned in to both the music in my ears and the video on the screen. I heard Britney warbling away about being stonger than yesterday while watching a very sweaty, flannel-clad Neil Young lumber across the stage, strum his guitar and grimace while standing at the microphone. I almost burst out laughing. For a brief moment, it seemed like ole Neil had sucked down some helium and decided to sing Britney's top 10. There was Neil, grimacing away, singing, "Here I go, on my own! I don't need nobody, better off alone!" The crowd shots almost sent me over the edge. Die-hard Neil Young fans waving their arms, yelling, "Yeah, Neil! It's nothin but your way! Woohoo!"
If you'd like to experience this unique musical collaboration, here's the link to Neil's video on youtube. Turn down the volume and crank up Britney. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBS3B2cZcFM&mode=related&search=
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Mistakes
In today's blotter, I read about a college student who drove his car down an embankment and crashed. When asked about the accident, he explained that he was turning around and "accidentally" hit the accelerator when he should have hit the brake. No one was hurt and this fellow's insurance company will certainly appreciate his more generous monthly contributions. Honest mistake. Could happen to any of us, I suppose.
This story comes on the heels of continuing coverage of Atlanta quarterback, Michael Vick's involvement in a dog-fighting ring. Yesterday's story included a picture of a young boy holding a sign that read, "Everybody makes mistakes." True. But what exactly was Michael Vick's mistake? Transforming Virginia farmland into a chamber of horrors? Turning perfectly healthy and potentially friendly dogs into vicious killers purely for profit? Callously drowining dogs who didn't perform up to his standards? Denying his involvement while continuing to rake in fistfuls of cash from the Atlanta Falcons?
According to Michael Vick, his mistake was getting involved in criminal activity, and he's sorry. I don't think it counts if you deny your "mistake" until your "business associates" turn you in. If he's honest, I think Vick would say that his biggest mistake was choosing to get involved with this particular group of "business associates" - associates who can't hide their criminal activities and then squeal like little girls when they're nabbed.
One of Vick's attorneys has asked that we all reserve harsh criticism because Vick is beating himself up enough about this. The attorney asked that we all remember that Vick is a father, not just a football player. In other words, we should show Vick's family more respect than he has. I hope his young son has some serious questions about why his father chose to squander his future on this "mistake."
If we're making a list of the people who made mistakes in all of this, I think the Atlanta Falcons organization deserves top honors. Seems Vick's contract is so airtight that even a felony conviction doesn't absolve the Falcons of their obligations. Vick is suspended, but not terminated. Something about if he's terminated, he gets to keep all the signing bonuses and whatever else the Falcons wooed him with. May we all find such generous employers.
Next on the list would be the people who suggest that this whole affair has anything to do with race. It doesn't. It has everything to do with greed, cruelty, brutality and callous disregard for life. To hide behind race is cowardly and it's stupid. Characterizing dog-fighting as a cultural pastime puts you on a very slippery slope. In the late 19th - early 20th century, white supremacists made the same argument about lynching, a crime that actually had everything to do with race. I don't care how bad-ass you are, you don't want to keep company with white supremacists.
In the end, "mistake" seems terribly inadequate to describe Vick's actions. "Mistake" implies that it can all be erased with a simple, "oops, my bad. Do over." No, "mistake" might describe the college student's trip into the embankment, but it doesn't cut it when over 50 dogs will pay the ultimate price for Vick's decisions.
This story comes on the heels of continuing coverage of Atlanta quarterback, Michael Vick's involvement in a dog-fighting ring. Yesterday's story included a picture of a young boy holding a sign that read, "Everybody makes mistakes." True. But what exactly was Michael Vick's mistake? Transforming Virginia farmland into a chamber of horrors? Turning perfectly healthy and potentially friendly dogs into vicious killers purely for profit? Callously drowining dogs who didn't perform up to his standards? Denying his involvement while continuing to rake in fistfuls of cash from the Atlanta Falcons?
According to Michael Vick, his mistake was getting involved in criminal activity, and he's sorry. I don't think it counts if you deny your "mistake" until your "business associates" turn you in. If he's honest, I think Vick would say that his biggest mistake was choosing to get involved with this particular group of "business associates" - associates who can't hide their criminal activities and then squeal like little girls when they're nabbed.
One of Vick's attorneys has asked that we all reserve harsh criticism because Vick is beating himself up enough about this. The attorney asked that we all remember that Vick is a father, not just a football player. In other words, we should show Vick's family more respect than he has. I hope his young son has some serious questions about why his father chose to squander his future on this "mistake."
If we're making a list of the people who made mistakes in all of this, I think the Atlanta Falcons organization deserves top honors. Seems Vick's contract is so airtight that even a felony conviction doesn't absolve the Falcons of their obligations. Vick is suspended, but not terminated. Something about if he's terminated, he gets to keep all the signing bonuses and whatever else the Falcons wooed him with. May we all find such generous employers.
Next on the list would be the people who suggest that this whole affair has anything to do with race. It doesn't. It has everything to do with greed, cruelty, brutality and callous disregard for life. To hide behind race is cowardly and it's stupid. Characterizing dog-fighting as a cultural pastime puts you on a very slippery slope. In the late 19th - early 20th century, white supremacists made the same argument about lynching, a crime that actually had everything to do with race. I don't care how bad-ass you are, you don't want to keep company with white supremacists.
In the end, "mistake" seems terribly inadequate to describe Vick's actions. "Mistake" implies that it can all be erased with a simple, "oops, my bad. Do over." No, "mistake" might describe the college student's trip into the embankment, but it doesn't cut it when over 50 dogs will pay the ultimate price for Vick's decisions.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Poison is poison
This weekend, while I took a break from the ever-present dissertation, I watched part of VH-1's Top 100 80s songs. I'm a sucker for countdown shows. It's a serious problem that I'm going to address someday. This countdown show not only played parts of the 80s tunes, but also included updates about what 80s band members are doing now.
Amidst the predictable and pretentious "I have moved on since the 1980s and I don't play, listen to, sing, or remember any of the words to any song I recorded, so don't ask," I learned some terribly disenchanting facts. For example, I learned that the guitar player from Aerosmith is selling barbecue sauce. Apparently, he came up with the recipe himself and wants everyone to know that the sauce is "perfect for everyday, not too hot and spicy." Now, if that's not the perfect definition of selling out and going mainstream, I don't know what is. Here's a guy who earned his rock and roll cred on such classics as "Sweet Emotion" and "Dream On" and now he's schlocking bbq sauce that's not too spicy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I also learned that "Sister Christian" is not "motorin'." No, she's an office manager in Oregon. It's just too depressing.
As my teen idols aged before my eyes, I thought, "If they look that much older, how much older do I look?" Just then, Bret Michaels from Poison came on screen. Time has not been kind to Bret Michaels. Turns out, strippers haven't either. Seems he wrote "Ev'ry Rose Has Its Thorn" when he called his stripper girlfriend from the road only to learn that she was cheating on him. Heartbroken, Michaels penned the "classic, timeless ballad." That's a direct quote from Michaels. I learned a couple of valuable lessons from this: 1) Strippers aren't faithful to men in spandex, and 2) Bret Michaels doesn't know the meaning of timeless or classic.
Since watching the show, I've discovered the insidiousness of Bret Michaels. At random intervals throughout the day, I catch myself humming "Ev'ry rose has its thorn, just like ev'ry night has its daaaawwwwn, just like ev'ry cowboy sings a sad, sad song, ev'ry rose has its thorn." There's no predicting when it will happen, no rhyme, no reason. I'm just going about my business, and all the sudden, "Ev'ry rose has its thorn..." At the gym, in the car, in the kitchen, and most infuriating, while listening to much better music. It's maddening. Bret Michaels didn't pen a timeless classic, he penned an evil, insidious melody that once lodged in your brain will never, ever come out. I would wager good money that my relationship with this song has lasted longer than Michaels's relationship with the stripper.
Today, I went to the grocery store. Every cowboy was singing a sad, sad song before I'd even realized I was humming audibly. Desparate to change the evil melody in my head, I tuned into the store muzak. "You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration, you bring meaning to my life, you're the inspiration" whined nasally-challenged, horse-faced Peter Setara. I thought, "Holy crap! That might possibly be the only song worse than Ev'ry Rose Has Its Thorn." I was actually relieved when my mind's soundtrack resumed "ev'ry rose has its thorn..."
Amidst the predictable and pretentious "I have moved on since the 1980s and I don't play, listen to, sing, or remember any of the words to any song I recorded, so don't ask," I learned some terribly disenchanting facts. For example, I learned that the guitar player from Aerosmith is selling barbecue sauce. Apparently, he came up with the recipe himself and wants everyone to know that the sauce is "perfect for everyday, not too hot and spicy." Now, if that's not the perfect definition of selling out and going mainstream, I don't know what is. Here's a guy who earned his rock and roll cred on such classics as "Sweet Emotion" and "Dream On" and now he's schlocking bbq sauce that's not too spicy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I also learned that "Sister Christian" is not "motorin'." No, she's an office manager in Oregon. It's just too depressing.
As my teen idols aged before my eyes, I thought, "If they look that much older, how much older do I look?" Just then, Bret Michaels from Poison came on screen. Time has not been kind to Bret Michaels. Turns out, strippers haven't either. Seems he wrote "Ev'ry Rose Has Its Thorn" when he called his stripper girlfriend from the road only to learn that she was cheating on him. Heartbroken, Michaels penned the "classic, timeless ballad." That's a direct quote from Michaels. I learned a couple of valuable lessons from this: 1) Strippers aren't faithful to men in spandex, and 2) Bret Michaels doesn't know the meaning of timeless or classic.
Since watching the show, I've discovered the insidiousness of Bret Michaels. At random intervals throughout the day, I catch myself humming "Ev'ry rose has its thorn, just like ev'ry night has its daaaawwwwn, just like ev'ry cowboy sings a sad, sad song, ev'ry rose has its thorn." There's no predicting when it will happen, no rhyme, no reason. I'm just going about my business, and all the sudden, "Ev'ry rose has its thorn..." At the gym, in the car, in the kitchen, and most infuriating, while listening to much better music. It's maddening. Bret Michaels didn't pen a timeless classic, he penned an evil, insidious melody that once lodged in your brain will never, ever come out. I would wager good money that my relationship with this song has lasted longer than Michaels's relationship with the stripper.
Today, I went to the grocery store. Every cowboy was singing a sad, sad song before I'd even realized I was humming audibly. Desparate to change the evil melody in my head, I tuned into the store muzak. "You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration, you bring meaning to my life, you're the inspiration" whined nasally-challenged, horse-faced Peter Setara. I thought, "Holy crap! That might possibly be the only song worse than Ev'ry Rose Has Its Thorn." I was actually relieved when my mind's soundtrack resumed "ev'ry rose has its thorn..."
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Lyrics
I like to listen to music. I like folk, rock, country, really anything except rap music. I like songs that have something to say, and I'm a sucker for acoustic guitar and a good voice. Early Dylan, Indigo Girls, Amos Lee, Tom Petty, Alison Krauss - all OK by me. I'd like John Mayer, too except that he makes that weird scrunchy face when he sings and I keep thinking that he's smelling farts. Really distracting.
That said, I'm also a total sucker for mindless pop music. Catchy tunes and repetitive rhythms? Love them! I've gathered that there are 2 ways to make money with pop music: 1) write totally schmaltzy nonsense, or 2) just write complete and utter nonsense. Allow me to explain:
Category 1: Schmaltzy Nonsense
Example #1: "I'll Be There For You" - Bon Jovi
And Baby you know my hands are dirty
[Has he been repairing the car? Gardening?]
But I wanted to be your valentine
[But he's not, because apparently, she has a "clean hand only" rule for valentines. Very smart.]
I'll be the water when you get thirsty, baby
[Wouldn't he be dirty water? Why would she want that?]
When you get drunk, I'll be the wine
[Ironically, when he sings this line, he's actually the "whine"]
I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
[And you said he couldn't count.]
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
[But, no pressure.]
Steal the sun from the sky for you
[Cool! Go ahead!]
Words can't say what a love can do
[And this song proves it in spades.]
I'll be there for you
[Great]
Example #2: "Always" - Bon Jovi
Yeah I, will love you, baby
Always
And I'll be there forever and a day,
Always
I'll be there, till the stars don't shine
Till the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme
[Guess he'll be leaving since shine and rhyme don't rhyme.]
I know when I die you'll be on my mind and I'll love you
Always
[But wait, here are the best lines in the song:]
If you told me to cry for you, I could
If you told me to die for you, I would [Really?]
Example #3: "Shape of My Heart" - Backstreet Boys
Sadness is beautiful loneliness that's tragical
[Even more tragical, they don't bother to rhyme this non-word with "magical."]
So help me I can't win this war, oh no
Touch me now, don't bother if every second it makes me weaker
[Umm, what's the point if you just get weaker?]
You can save me from the man I've become
[A weak non-rhyming illiterate?]
Lookin' back on the things I've done
I was tryin' to be someone
[A weak non-rhyming illiterate?]
I played my part, kept you in the dark
Now let me show you the shape of my heart
[If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't show me the shape of your heart.]
Example 4: "Accidentally in Love" - Counting Crows
Well baby I surrender
To the strawberry ice cream
[That's some pretty intimidating ice cream!]
Never ever end of all this love
Well I didn't mean to do it
But there's no escaping your love
[Or the ice cream, apparently]
Category #2: Just plain nonsense. I believe that no one can hold a candle to Duran Duran in this department. I love Duran Duran, but hell if I can figure out what they're singing about.
Example 1: "Union of the Snake" - Duran Duran
Telegram force and ready
I knew this was a big mistake.
[Better to acknowledge before recording the song.]
There's a fine line drawing my senses together,
And I think its about to break.
If I listen close I can hear them singers, oh oh oh...
Voices in your body coming through on the radio,ho,ho...
The union of the snake is on the climb..
Moving up, it's gonna race, it's gonna break through the, borderline
[It makes no sense. None. And these fellows made lots of money. Lots. No sense at all.]
Need more evidence? Here's Example #2: "The Reflex:"
You gone too far this time
But I'm dancing on the valentine [????]
I tell you somebody's fooling around -
With my chances on the dangerline
I'll cross that bridge when I find it
[Be hard to cross before you find it, I suppose]
Another day to make my stand, oh..
High time is no time for deciding
If I should find a helping hand, oh..
So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
[Use what? Don't bruise what? ??????]
Buy time don't lose it
The reflex is an only child, he's waiting in the park
The reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark
And watching over lucky clover isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does leaves you answered with a
Question mark
[Just like every line in this song]
That's all for today. Stay tuned for more examples of money-generating nonsense.
That said, I'm also a total sucker for mindless pop music. Catchy tunes and repetitive rhythms? Love them! I've gathered that there are 2 ways to make money with pop music: 1) write totally schmaltzy nonsense, or 2) just write complete and utter nonsense. Allow me to explain:
Category 1: Schmaltzy Nonsense
Example #1: "I'll Be There For You" - Bon Jovi
And Baby you know my hands are dirty
[Has he been repairing the car? Gardening?]
But I wanted to be your valentine
[But he's not, because apparently, she has a "clean hand only" rule for valentines. Very smart.]
I'll be the water when you get thirsty, baby
[Wouldn't he be dirty water? Why would she want that?]
When you get drunk, I'll be the wine
[Ironically, when he sings this line, he's actually the "whine"]
I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
[And you said he couldn't count.]
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
[But, no pressure.]
Steal the sun from the sky for you
[Cool! Go ahead!]
Words can't say what a love can do
[And this song proves it in spades.]
I'll be there for you
[Great]
Example #2: "Always" - Bon Jovi
Yeah I, will love you, baby
Always
And I'll be there forever and a day,
Always
I'll be there, till the stars don't shine
Till the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme
[Guess he'll be leaving since shine and rhyme don't rhyme.]
I know when I die you'll be on my mind and I'll love you
Always
[But wait, here are the best lines in the song:]
If you told me to cry for you, I could
If you told me to die for you, I would [Really?]
Example #3: "Shape of My Heart" - Backstreet Boys
Sadness is beautiful loneliness that's tragical
[Even more tragical, they don't bother to rhyme this non-word with "magical."]
So help me I can't win this war, oh no
Touch me now, don't bother if every second it makes me weaker
[Umm, what's the point if you just get weaker?]
You can save me from the man I've become
[A weak non-rhyming illiterate?]
Lookin' back on the things I've done
I was tryin' to be someone
[A weak non-rhyming illiterate?]
I played my part, kept you in the dark
Now let me show you the shape of my heart
[If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't show me the shape of your heart.]
Example 4: "Accidentally in Love" - Counting Crows
Well baby I surrender
To the strawberry ice cream
[That's some pretty intimidating ice cream!]
Never ever end of all this love
Well I didn't mean to do it
But there's no escaping your love
[Or the ice cream, apparently]
Category #2: Just plain nonsense. I believe that no one can hold a candle to Duran Duran in this department. I love Duran Duran, but hell if I can figure out what they're singing about.
Example 1: "Union of the Snake" - Duran Duran
Telegram force and ready
I knew this was a big mistake.
[Better to acknowledge before recording the song.]
There's a fine line drawing my senses together,
And I think its about to break.
If I listen close I can hear them singers, oh oh oh...
Voices in your body coming through on the radio,ho,ho...
The union of the snake is on the climb..
Moving up, it's gonna race, it's gonna break through the, borderline
[It makes no sense. None. And these fellows made lots of money. Lots. No sense at all.]
Need more evidence? Here's Example #2: "The Reflex:"
You gone too far this time
But I'm dancing on the valentine [????]
I tell you somebody's fooling around -
With my chances on the dangerline
I'll cross that bridge when I find it
[Be hard to cross before you find it, I suppose]
Another day to make my stand, oh..
High time is no time for deciding
If I should find a helping hand, oh..
So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
[Use what? Don't bruise what? ??????]
Buy time don't lose it
The reflex is an only child, he's waiting in the park
The reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark
And watching over lucky clover isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does leaves you answered with a
Question mark
[Just like every line in this song]
That's all for today. Stay tuned for more examples of money-generating nonsense.
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