Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Well ding dong shliggedy shlong. This is something I've tossed around the idea of doing for a while, posting some song lyrics up here. I came pretty close once or twice. I think the closest ones to getting posted were Def Leppard's "Mirror Mirror" and Social Distortion's "Sick Boy."

Each time I kind of backed off because I thought I'd be biting two of my favorite bloggers too hard. The first being the "reverend" Tony Pierce, my blogging inspiration and spiritual papa of this here blog, and the second being Dawn Olsen, aka June Cleaver on three tabs of acid and a sudafed IV. They put up song lyrics every once in a while, and I knew they didn't like have it copyrighted or anything, but I don't know, I didn't know if I was, how do I put this? Down enough. Like when you're down with OPP, I didn't know if I was down with LOB (lyrics on blog). I knew I was down with the LBC, the GPC, the ABC, and even the DOT, but as for the LOB, I felt insecure, unsure of myself. If you backed me into a corner with a jar of mayonnaise and a butter knife, I might have even admitted I was scared.

Anyway, why the change of heart, Berkeley Joe? Well today, as some of you, (ok a shitload of you) may be aware, I got two PHAT links from those same two dignified blogging luminaries. I am speechless and flattered and more than a little constipated by the whole thing, so I'm going to let the late great Brad Nowell kick it off for me, with the lyrics to the song that has been "that song that I always want to hear and blast as loud as humanly fucking possible" for roughly the last week and a half. Maybe if you guys start thinking about Brad, he'll stop keeping me up during those nights that Randy Rhoads is busy with his bingo club.

Oh, and as promised, once I confirmed that I actually was truly linked on Up Yours, I stripped naked and painted myself golden and blue and impaled my head with the bears skull that hangs over my boss's desk and ran up and down the gravel hill that sits right outside my office. The secretaries, the foreman, the jugglers, and even the forklift drivers did the wave as I mooned the assembled crowd with the initials D and O on my respective cheeks. The Dogpound showed up with a shockstick and a choke chain and I was duly taken into custody and charged with indecent exposure and food spoilage but ya know? It was worth it.

Okey dokey? Okey dokey.

Sublime (1996)
Same In The End

Down in Mississippi where the sun beats down from the sky
They give it up but they never ask why
Daddy was a rolling, rolling stone he rolled away one day
and he never came home
It ain't hard to understand this ain't hitler's master plan
What it takes to be a man in my mind and in my brain
I roll it over like a steamin' freight train
It ain't hard to ascertain
You only see what you want to believe
When you light in the back with those tricks up your sleeve
That don't mean I can't hang
But the day that I die will be the day I shut my mouth
And put down my guitar
Sunday morning hold church down at the bar
Get down on my knees and start to pray
Pray my itchy rash will go away
Back up y'all it ain't me
Kentucky Fried Chicken is all that I see
It's a hellified way to start your day
If I make you cry all night
Me and daddy are gonna have a fist fight
It ain't personal it ain't me
I only hear what you told me to be
I'm a backward ass hillbilly
I'm dick butkiss
You know I lie
I get me an I'm a thief in the dark
I'm a rain machine I'm a triple rectified ass s.o.b
Rec-tite(tm) on my ass
And it makes me itch
I can see for miles and miles and miles
My broken heart makes me smile
In my mind in my brain I go back and go completely insane
It ain't personal
It ain't me
If I make you cry I might be your daddy at the end of the night
Take a load from my big gun
You only see what you want to believe
When you creep from the back
You got tricks up my sleeve
24/7 the devils my best friend
Makes no difference it's all the same in the end