Dissecting Alanis Morissette's Ironic.

I listened to a song today. A song that everytime I listen to it, makes me kind of make a weird face and utter the words, "Really?" No song does this more than Ironic by Alanis Morissette.

Okay, I guess the stuff in the song is ironic to an extent. But, the vast majority of the events are really horrible situations or incredible bad luck for those involved.

To me ironic is a man named Lefty who has to sign his checks with his right hand. That is ironic.

So, I am going to dissect this song like a frog in biology. And prove to Alanis that her logic of irony is flawed.

Here we go:

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day...

He probably saw that one coming. Plus, if you were ninety-eight and you won the lottery, you probably would not care. Because what are you going to do with that money? Massive quantities of pistachio pudding? Okay, horrible example. This would only be ironic if something he purchased with the money killed him.


It's a black fly in your Chardonnay

Let me crack a egg of fly knowledge on you, a fly is attracted to fruit odors/scent. Chardonnay is a wine made of green grapes a.k.a.: a fruit. Henceforth, it would contain some degree of fruit scent of which it would give off to attract for the sack of this argument, I don't know lets just say a fly. Secondly, and let's just get this elephant out of the room... Why does the fly have to be black?

It's a death row pardon two minutes too late

I know Alanis is Canadian. But, really? Have you at least seen Law & Order? This is America. Homie don't play that. If someone is getting the boom-boom-pow, they are supposed to get the boom-boo-pow. If you murder 35 penguins, 9 humans and steal a bag of Skittles. You may get the Skittles charge thrown out, but you still killed 35 penguins and 9 humans.

In the words of the Meat Puppets, Alanis:


"Where do bad folks go when they die
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
See them again 'till the Fourth of July"


And isn't it ironic... don't you think

Nope.


It's like rain on your wedding day

You try telling this to someone who had there most important day likened to the fifth inning of a baseball game. I can not put myself in the shoes of a bride. But, I can guess if there is rain on their wedding day a handful of things would probably occur:

1. Somebody is crying.
2. Somebody is getting a shoe thrown at them.
3. (Insert drunk family member) is getting a head start at the open bar.
4. The bride and or groom is not thinking that it is ironic in the slightest bit. Three grand for the lake front villa and white rose floral arrangement, plus another two grand for the party. You are looking at five grand for nothing. And don't even say they could just re-book. In this hypothetical situation the lake front villa's are all booked. They could however dip into their rainy day fund and shoot for a small wedding next year. Now, that is ironic. What with having to pay for a rained out wedding, with their rainy day fund.

It's a free ride when you've already paid

Well, yeah the ride is free after you paid. Just like food is free after you pay for it. The same goes for socks too. Free rides always end badly. Ask   Rebecca Black, she still does not know what seat she should take, and that was free. When you pay you usually get assigned a seat and there is no/minimal conflict. Plus, if someone after me gets a freebie I am yelling refund like nobodies business.


It's the good advice that you just didn't take

Chalking this one up to poor judgement.

Scoreboard?

Poor Judgement: 1
Irony: -23

Who would've thought... it figures

Clearly you did Alanis... Or did not.


Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

I am calling malarky on this one. Why would he wait his whole life to do something he does not want to. That is like me saying, "Man, I just do not want to get eaten by a shark" and then one day I put on a meat suit and jump in the ocean. Like, no. That is just unrealistic.

Plus, if a plane is going down I am not making reflective quips on my bad luck. I am crying like a baby trying to barter with the big guy up stairs for a front row seat in heaven.

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

Yes? I mean that really is not ironic. That is like saying life is good when you are eating Taco Bell. But, not so much after. Or you do not have enough money for a Hot and Ready, but you have enough for a McDouble and fries.

That makes sense right?

Food always makes sense.

A traffic jam when you're already late

Get an alarm clock. Pull a Bruce Almighty. This one is on you and your poor planning and lack of punctuality. Do you have a radio in your car? Traffic updates, best invention next to the game of nose goes. Plus, do you think your boss will by the irony excuse? Or when you phrase your excuse like:

"I was running late and then I hit traffic... isn't it ironic... don't you think?"

Your boss if smart will fire you for not being late, but for trying to use Alanis Morissette lyrics to explain why those TPS reports were not on his desk.

Either that, or he will ask you to come in on Saturday's. But you just adapted this real care free lifestyle and you just met this waitress played by Jennifer Aniston and...

Man, that could be a movie.

A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break

First off, if you have a mandated obviously pre-planned/determined break, specifically designated for smoking, why in the creature of the blue lagoon would there be a no-smoking sign in anywhere near the vacinaty of which you are smoking?

Secondly, if there is a such a sign. Said smoker probably does not give a hoot or a half. And it is probably living the dream and putting their said cigarette out on the no-smoking sign.

Thirdly, you try telling a smoker they can't smoke. Plus, I already have this situation playing in my head of how this would play out. I envision the smoker sounding a lot like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqPiJ0L7YmY

And saying something like this:

"I've been working here for thirty years... and now you have the hutzpah to tell me I can't smoke... wait till Bobby hears about this..."


It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

Show me a person who owns ten thousand spoons, and I will show you a person living a lie.

It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife

IF he is the man of your dreams you would know he had a wife, as you would have met said wife of his in the same dream in which you were dreaming of him... in your dreams of him. So, when the dream was personified you would have felt a certain deja vu type feeling. Realizing that you must have met the wife before. You did of course met her in your dreams. When of course you were dreaming the dreams that contained the man of your dreams.

Inception.


And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...

Clearly it is not anymore ironic than me writing an ironic piece on ironies.

Now isn't that a little too ironic... don't you think?

'45s I Listened To Yesterday

As mentioned in a previous statii post on my Facebook, I spent the better part of my day yesterday in my basement playing some '45s from my collection, my mom's collection and my dad's collection. Not only that, but I did a mean Wolfman Jack impersonation in the process. And I was acting like I was a radio DJ from the 1970s. That last sentence kind of makes me laugh personally, because I am actually a legit radio DJ for Cardinal Radio at Saginaw Valley State University.

(Plug?)

So, I thought I would share the fun I had yesterday, and reveal what '45s I actually played. And then maybe you can be your own personal DJ.

• Wooly Bully- Sam The Sham and The Pharaohs- This is just awesome '45 to own. I got it for 45 cents at the Goodwill in Saginaw. In possibly the greatest, most epic and just borderline sexual record buying excursion I have ever been on.
• Dion- Runaround Sue- Look, if you are selling this at a garage sale for 5 cents, I am buying it.
• Jr. Walker & The All Stars- Money (That's What I Want)- This '45 was apart of the Wooly Bully excursion, in which I purchased about 20 or so '45s of Motown and Soul records for under 12 dollars.
• Earth, Wind, & Fire- Sing A Song- As I told my mother in a Wolfman Jack voice (and in a Ben Wallace afro), "The essentials... Earth, Wind, & Fire".
• The Temptations- (I Know) I'm Losing You- This is up there as one of my favorite Temp songs. I always acted like I am Otis and do a Temptations dance when I listen to this song.
• Stevie Wonder- Uptight (Everything's Alright)- My mom wanted some young Stevie so I threw this on.
• Stevie Wonder- Superstition- My mom wanted some older Stevie so I threw this on.
• Marvin Gaye- Too Busy Thinking About My Baby- Everyone who collects records should at least have one Marvin Gaye '45. If not, then you really have a shitty record collection.
• Aretha Franklin- Chain Of Fools- The single greatest female vocalist of all-time. Period.
• Aretha Franklin- Think- Just to prove that previous point, I listened to another Aretha record.
• Martha & The Vandellas- Wild One- This group is kind of lost in the big picture of original Motown groups. The are phenominal. And they provide a great soundtrack for Summer.
• Jackie Wilson- (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher- Mr. Excitement. I ran upstairs shouting at my mom, "What movie! What movie!" She said Ghostbusters. I was baffled that she got it wrong. It was Ghostbusters II, when they put the ooze in the toaster and it starts dancing to this song on the pool table. Classic scene.
• The Miracles- Ooo Baby Baby- To be honest, I did not even know I had this '45. But, when I saw it, I had to a double taske, and when I realized it was not a dream, I exclaimed a giant, "Yessssssssssssssssssss!"And then I played it of course.
• The Supremes- Stop! In The Name Of Love- I swear, there is just something religious about staring at a Motown '45, and seing the map of Michigan on the upper part of the record and seeing the red star for Detroit right above the red, yellow, and blue Motown.
• Wilson Pickett- In The Midnight Hour- This might be my favorite '45 to just sit down and listen to. It is such a perfect sounding song.
• The Impressoions- I Love You (Yeah)- Curtis Mayfield is one bad mama-jamma. It is ridiculous how good he was. If Rod Allen was writing this, he would have said that Curtis Mayfield was "filthy".
• The Righteous Brothers- You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'- Little did my dad know that I would be listening to the same '45s he purchased 40 some odd years ago. Thats the beauty of timeless music.
• Barry McGuire- Eve Of Destruction- Okay, based of this song and the next, please try convincing me that my dad was not an anti-war (potenitally hippie)...
• The Bob Seger System- 2+2=?- I mean come on, he had to of been. For Christmas sake, he road-tripped to Cleveland in 1977 with some friends for Pink Floyd's: Animals tour.
• Bachman Turner Overdrive- Let It Ride- Just a good old fashioned 1970s, hop in your Grand AM, drive for miles, Americana rock/pop song.
• The Doobie Brothers- Black Water- Yeah, my dad was a hippie.
• Black Sabbath- Iron Man- Yeah, I am happy was a hippie, because now I have all his good music to listen to.
• Bob Seger and The Last Heard- Heavy Music- This '45 is 44 years old, and it is still in its original Cameo Parkway sleeve.
• Bobby Pickett- Monster Mash- This is actually pressed on see transparent orange vinyl. Swag.
• The Kinks- Lola- If you read the lyrics to this song, you will laugh. It is about a guy hooking up with a guy in drag.
• Norman Greenbaum- Spirit In The Sky- You are damn straight I own this '45.
• Spiderman Theme- He does everything that a spider can. Yes, I seriously do own the original Spiderman theme on vinyl.
• Billy Joel- The Longest Time- I am envious of Billy Joel on so many levels. I want to be said Piano Man.
• The Box Tops- The Letter- One of my favorite songs. It is short, simple, and amazing. I always flap my arms like Gavin in Pirate Radio whenever I play this '45.
• Nitty Gritty Dirt Band- Mr. Bojangles- I remember falling in love with this song as a kid, and always feeling sad at the part of the song when he said, "the dog up and died". I still feel sad when I hear that line.
• Dusty Springfield- Stay Awhile- Her voice is like unicorns dancing in your ears.
• Iron Butterfly- IN-A-GADDA-DA-VIDA- ... Such a hippie.
• Procol Harum- A Whiter Shade of Pale- This song makes me love my dad unconditionally. He obviously did not know in 1960-something that he was going to have a son who was going to like the same music he did. But he still bought this '45 and he held on to it for all those years. Now, everytime I am bored, I can come downstairs, pick up this '45 and listen to my favorite song all of time. Over and over and over again.

Hitsville U.S.A.

What I am about to say may upset a few people. But, you know what, I do not care.

Ready for it?

Here it is:

Motown is the single greatest musical genre to have ever existed in the history of ever.

EVER.

You can argue for other genres like Brit Pop, Punk, Rap, Big Band, Metal, etc. But, none of those genres have done or can do what Motown did.

Motown united people. It brought together blacks and whites, at a time when civil rights and racial tension was at an all-time high. It gave a white kid in St. Louis something in common with a black kid in Detroit. Sure, they could have many differences socially and economically, but when that new Temptations song came on, they sang the same lyrics, did the same dance and shared the same joy.

That is what the Motown sound was capable of. And that is what the Motown sound did. It broke down social barriers, and it built new ones. For people of all walks of life.

And what other genre has been so good at what it did, that its headquarters was called "Hitsville"?

Wait, that is still Motown.

I just realized, that I have not even gotten to the artists yet.

The Supremes
The Spinners
The Temptations
The Jackson 5
Tammi Terrell
The Velvettes
Jr. Walker and the All-Stars
The Miracles
The Marvelettes
The Elgins
The Contours
Gladys Knight & The Pips
Smokey Robinson
Stevie Wonder
Marvin Gaye

And those are just off of the top of my head.

If there was a musical line-up that you could compare to Murderers Row (The 1927 New York Yankee line-up that had Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig) it is Motown. Because no matter who was batting for Motown, you knew they were going to have a hit.

And if there was ever a greater manager (producer) than Berry Gordy. Please, tell me right now.

The man had an ear sent down from the Greek Gods. And a mind like Einstein for the music business.

I challenge you to find a Motown song that is not good. Find a song that does not evoke some emotion out of you. I dare you to not start singing along to "My Girl" when it comes on the radio.

It is impossible.

Motown is the perfect Summer and Party music.

Motown is the perfect ANYTIME music.

Put on some Stevie Wonder and people will dance. Oh, people will dance.

Play some Spinners and your parents and grandparents will start to tell you stories about Detroit in the 1950s and 1960s, and they will tell you how life and music was better back then. And guess what, IT WAS.

If you are with your lady-friend or significant other, put on some Marvin or Smokey and I can at least guarantee that you might get a kiss. If not, at least you can bask in your awkward "turn down" with some good music.

Let me leave you with this:

I am nineteen years old. Far, far, far too young to have experienced the original boom of Motown in Detroit.

But, I am writing this.

So what I said earlier about Motown united races, was in retrospect a small portion of what Motown did in the long run.

It united generations.

Public Pools Are For Fools (Part I)

I have to start this off by saying this, if you have troubles with your self-esteem, if you feel inadequate or do not like your body, just go to a public pool. Forget about countless hours of therapy and the thousands of dollars that costs, and just pay sixteen dollars to go to a public pool.

Because after seeing five people with barbed-wire tattoos, the guy who knows his bathing suit is too small (he has to, I mean good lord)/the woman who knows she flashing side-boob like a stop light at one in the morning, the woman with the rose tattoo on her left teet and the man who is redder than Rudolph's nose... and who looks like he just ate Rudolph... all of him... at once.

You kind of feel this inner happiness and say to yourself, "You know, I do not have that six-pack of abs, but at least I do not have a falcon skull tattoo on my left shoulder... at least I think that guy thinks it is a falcon tattoo, but to me it kind of looks like somebody photobombed a picture of Woody the Woodpecker".

Phew. I feel better already.

Then you actually get in the pool. Whole new ballgame folks.

You have to treat a public pool like your are invading a country. You have to establish your parameters and take no prisoners. If you see an inner tube floating about, you take it. You can even George Bush it and just start taking over all the inner tubes and invade others peoples space, so in a way, you could be invading many persons space all at the same time, while forgetting all about the original inner tube that you decided to go in the pool for.

(Gratuitous political metaphor)

What?

Anyway, the pool was like a concert crowd. There were the people in groups, the kids who just screamed the whole time, the people who had no clue why they were there and the people who just took up space.

Also, the music playing was like Doug FM, if Doug just decided to piss everybody off and play late 1990's pop. Not even like the Varsity squad of late 1990's pop ala your N*Sync, Britney Spears, etc. We are talking like the benchwarmers on the Junior Varsity squad of late 1990's pop. Example: that one song from O-Town that nobody liked and likes even less because they have no choice but to listen to it.

Then there was the lazy river.

More like a river full of lies.

Calling this lazy river lazy, was like calling the Cedric the Entertainer entertaining. Maybe at some point it was, but right now it is not living up to it's name. I had to tread in two and a half feet a water. I am calling mad bannana split (B.S. for those keeping score at home) on this one.

I hopped on the tube and started drifting towards the wall. Naturally, I start saying, "Dale Earnhardt", I think the man with Jesus tattoo on his man boob got offended. Then all of the sudden I went from zero to at least one and a half miles an hour.

I was booking it.

The second time around, my brother and I decided to use the double tube do-hicky-ma-bopper. We flipped over right after the cove. And in front of the lifeguard. We were probably the first two idiots to have ever un-lazied the lazy river. But after all, we are trend setters.

I feel like I want to write more about this, but I feel watching re-runs of Teen Mom is more important.

Amber and Gary, hmm.

I feel like I saw them at the pool today.

I Wrote This In The Back Of Rachel's Car, While Everyone Was Talking About Weekend Plans

This took up over 800 characters on my phone. I wrote this after seeing Beginners, a fantastic movie by the way. I channeled Ewan McGregor's character from the movie sort of. I asked myself, "What would his character write about his character, if his character had to write about his character, then Ewan McGregor had to write that". I ended up with someone with a sorrowful heart, who does not want to be full of grief and sadness, but just wants to be happy. But, in the end knows that all it will ever be is full of sorrow, with the hope that one day it will change.


And I made the end rhyme by accident, I swear.

I am a poet it and did not even not it.


So without out further adieu, I give you memos 22-26 on my phone:
Also known as:
My Sorrowful Heart.
But also known as:
I think my first prose poem.
But mostly just known as:
My Sorrowful Heart.

My Sorrowful Heart.
A sorrowful heart bleeds black and blue, when it just wants to bleed red like the others. It chooses the wrong words and moments, when it just wants to do its best to help. It can make a moment full of life seize to exist, without even the slightest of skill. It can make the highest of highs crash to its lowest point in a fire filled glory. A sorrowful heart knows love. A sorrowful knows not of love. It tries on emotions like hats. Content, then lively, then back to where it feels best. Pumping black and blue, while all it wants is to pump red. A sorrowful heart wears a smile as a mask, and a mask as a smile. Behind it, it pumps all the colors of the spectrum. It pumps the greenest of greens and the maroonest of maroons. It can be strong, it could be weak. It can be it. A sorrowful heart longs for its own. Though it can never find it. For, the mask it wears, has no room for it's eyes. A sorrowful heart mends every heart but it's own, because it never tries. It just continues to pump black and blue till the day it dies.