Songwriting Master Class

When I was sixteen, I wrote a song cleverly satirizing the bigotry and hypocrisy I observed while growing up in small-town America. As befits such an incisive piece of original social commentary, this song was titled "The Lesbo Song." The unabridged lyrics:

America, America
America, America
America, America
I love your lesbians!

America, America
America, America
America, America
I love your lesbians!

[Refrain:]
I don't like straight chicks
I only like dykes
If you're not a lesbian,
You can take a hike
I'm lying about that,
I like all kinds
But one thing I can say is
It's great if you're bi

Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
I love your lesbians!

Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
I eat my vegetables!

Repeat refrain

Oh man, I was really on to something here! What is more, my band performed this song as a serious demonstration of our talent in front of an audience on more than one occasion! In another brilliant and timeless move, the guitars were played with clean tones during the opening and verse sections, and distorted tones during the choruses (a completely original technique that we developed, not to be confused with what was heard in 95% of all contemporary rock songs in the mid-nineties)!

All I have to offer in the way of an excuse for this is that I was sixteen and this was among the first five complete ("complete") songs that I ever wrote. In addition, it was meant as an ironic critique of the guys in my high school who would talk about how much they liked watching two naked women kiss, and then later call me "faggot" in the hallway because I had long hair. Well intentioned and cathartic, possibly, although I certainly could have spent a little more time finessing the concept. But who cares, it's rock and roll!

Bizzare Business

Early this morning I had a dream in which I (along with several others) was shot with a fully automatic nail gun by mysterious people attempting to foreclose on my parent's house during a graduation celebration. It hurt, but didn't bleed much. After picking dozens of nails out of my right forearm and left shoulder, I spent several minutes selecting the licensed graphic tee shirt that I was going to wear while tracking down the perpetrators of the attack.