Saturday, March 23, 2013

A Revolution In Mental Health

I want to run over Casey Kasem with a Prius, strapped to the scoop of a front end loader. Wait, wait. Hear me out. I know on its face it’s a great idea, but let me justify this.

Casey Kasem is the cause of all depression in this world.

I am not speaking, of course, of clinical depression, which is a messxture of symptoms, behaviors, and brain chemistry and should not be taken lightly. I don’t. I am talking of the more common use of the term, wherein you go to your room, throw yourself at the bed, yell at your goldfish, and then one, just one, of your grandmother's collection of porcelain dolls, winks one, just one, eye. 


Or in the sense where you get angry, because this is bullshit, and KARE-TV finally gets to use that new helicopter and their sadface. 


I have spoken before of the man’s lack of perspective, but foolishly found myself listening to the best of AT40 on the way to work this morning, about 1973-ish. Before Death Metal, and Dethklok, there was, what I refer as, Death Pop, starting with the famous Last Kiss.



and the tragic last stanza, where the boy holds his girl as she dies in a wreck. And then he finds he has a taste for necrophilia. And then she finds she has a taste for fresh brain. (Yeah, I know it's the Pearl Jam remake. I'm lazy. Pbbfflltt!) 

Sillier Better still was Laurie (Strange Things Happen In This World).



A strange force drew me to the graveyard.
I stood in the dark,
I saw the shadows wave,
And then I looked and saw my sweater
Lyin' there upon her grave.
Strange things happen in this world. 
Found her sweater in the cemetary? Rilly. I believe in all that shit but that song makes my diabetes bleed.

In 1973, there was a new entrant, Daisy A Day by Jud Strunk.



For he feels all her love walkin’ with him 
And he smiles at the things she might say 
Then the old man walks up to the hilltop 
And gives her a daisy a day 

I’ll give you a daisy a day, dear 
I’ll give you a daisy a day 
I’ll love you until the rivers run still 
And the four winds we know blow away


The problem I have here is that it is really kind of sweet, but Sweet Flying Spaghetti Monster do I not need that sobfest on the way to work.

Competing in the Stalk-O-Rama category, the Chi-Lites, (who generally I like rather a bit, even though Chicago), with (Write) A Letter To Myself.




And I know you'd think that I'm crazy
But I can't lose what have I left 
So I've decided to write this letter 
And send it to myself...... 


Get me a pencil and paper
And write all the things 
Say all the things 
I've heard you say before 

But with a little extra
(Extra, extra read all about it) 
Sugar and spice 
I guess it makes me feel kind of nice...... 


Oh, I put on the coat, leave you a note
And go to the places, places, places where we used to be 
I pretend you are there, order dinner for two 
Your very presence is all in the air 

I write a letter to myself
Oh, write another letter to myself 
I write another letter to myself 
Oh, I write another letter to myself


Ummm. Er. Dude. Wow. You are one sick bastard. This piece of paper is a restraining order.  It means go away. A lot.

Sheesh.

Oh, and Casey, I don't know if you are teh cause or an unwitting victim of this, but I'm going to blame you. Ta!

Gotta cleanse my ear type palate - oh, maybe one more sad song.




Full Lyrics Under The Jump
Write A Letter To Myself - The Chi-Lites

Write a letter, write another letter

Write a letter, write another letter
 
Write a letter 

I'm sealing up this letter 
I just finished signing your name
My friends would all be surprised
If they knew I was playing this game
 
I'll pretend it's a special delivery 
And just to give me a hint 
I'll use your favorite color 
Smear it with your favorite scent
 
And I know you'd think that I'm crazy 
But I can't lose what have I left 
So I've decided to write this letter 
And send it to myself 

So to make my story short 
In the mail box I will place
This letter that I wrote
And it's stamped with your lovely face

When I'm alone
And I need someone to talk to
I talk to your picture

Get me a pencil and paper
And write all the things
Say all the things
I've heard you say before

But with a little extra
(Extra, extra, read all about it)
Sugar and spice
I guess it makes me feel kind of nice

I write a letter to myself
Oh, write another letter to myself
I write another letter to myself
Oh, I write another letter to myself

What is a home when you're all alone
It seems so full, it seems so full but so empty

Oh, I put on the coat, leave you a note
And go to the places, places, places where we used to be
I pretend you are there, order dinner for two
Your very presence is all in the air

I write a letter to myself
Oh, write another letter to myself
I write another letter to myself
Oh, I write another letter to myself

I write another letter to myself
Write another letter to myself
I write another letter to myself
Oh, I write another letter to myself

I write another letter to myself
Write another letter to myself
Write another letter to myself 
Write another letter to myself
________________________

Laurie (Strange Things Happen In This World) - Dickey Lee

Last night at the dance I met Laurie,
So lovely and warm, an angel of a girl.
Last night I fell in love with Laurie -
Strange things happen in this world.

As I walked her home,
She said it was her birthday.
I pulled her close and said
"Will I see you anymore?"
Then suddenly she asked for my sweater
And said that she was very, very cold.

I kissed her goodnight
At her door and started home,
Then thought about my sweater
And went right back instead.
I knocked at her door and a man appeared.
I told why I'd come, then he said:

"You're wrong, son.
You weren't with my daughter.
How can you be so cruel
To come to me this way?
My Laurie left this world on her birthday -
She died a year ago today."

A strange force drew me to the graveyard.
I stood in the dark,
I saw the shadows wave,
And then I looked and saw my sweater
Lyin' there upon her grave.

Strange things happen in this world.
___________________

Daisy A Day - Jud Strunk



He remembers the first time he met ‘er 
He remembers the first thing she said 
He remembers the first time he held her 
And the night that she came to his bed 

He remembers her sweet way of sayin’ 
Honey has somethin’ gone wrong 
He remembers the fun and the teasin’ 
And the reason he wrote ‘er this song 

I’ll give you a daisy a day, dear
I’ll give you a daisy a day 
I’ll love you until the rivers run still 
And the four winds we know blow away 

They would walk down the street in the evenin’ 
And for years I would see them go by 
And their love that was more than the clothes that they wore 
Could be seen in the gleam of their eyes 

As a kid they would take me for candy 
And I loved to go taggin’ along 
We’d hold hands while we walked to the corner 
And the old man would sing ‘er his song 

I’ll give you a daisy a day, dear
I’ll give you a daisy a day 
I’ll love you until the rivers run still 
And the four winds we know blow away 

Now he walks down the street in the evenin’ 
And he stops by the old candy store 
And I somehow believe he’s believin’ 
He’s holdin’ ‘er hand like before 

For he feels all her love walkin’ with him 
And he smiles at the things she might say 
Then the old man walks up to the hilltop 
And gives her a daisy a day 

I’ll give you a daisy a day, dear
I’ll give you a daisy a day 
I’ll love you until the rivers run still 
And the four winds we know blow away


12 comments:

  1. What, Dickey Lee but no "Patches?"

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. He write that? I guess I thunked Bobby Goldboro.

      But also Death Pop.

      And Seasons In Teh Sun.

      And so many more!

      Billy Don't Be Heroic
      Shannon
      One Tin Soldier (a whole bloody village!)

      Delete
    2. Just don't let teh Voice of Shaggy start cussing out dead dogs again.

      Delete
  2. Also, this kind of shit is why I use an iPod in my car. The hazards of commercial radio are just too great.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Usually I have leftie talk radio on the way to work, to crank me up. Evenings is usually Pandora through the iPhone, trips is my iPod with too much damn good stuff I want to drive farther.

      Also my friend is grammar.

      Delete
    2. "Leftie Talk Radio" We know not of this strange and alien beast in the Land of Turdwaffle.

      Also, my drive to work is like 8 minutes.

      Delete
  3. Death Pop?

    Can you Exceed Don't Fear The Reaper?

    Maybe Killing An Arab, but I would argue that's not so much pop....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm trying to keep the lines in the genre of "My true love gotted snuffed, possibly in a tragic sewing machine factory mishap, oh, woe is me...".

      Robert Smith is pop.

      I also left out Disaster Area, with simple love songs along the line of boy-being meets girl-being under a shimmering moon, which then explodes for no adequately explored reason.

      Delete
    2. Sheesh, now YOU'RE channeling Douglas Adams? I thought that was Smut Clyde's shtick.

      I don't disagree on the Head On The Door and later material. But Killing An Arab was way on the other side of the post-punk genre.

      Delete