Words Are a Sawed Off Shotgun

First things first:

I must apologize for the leniency we have been exercising in terms of our blog's title. I realize that of late it has not exactly been "weekly." We are a little short on staff, considering Nick never writes and Jake is off negotiating nuclear arms treaties. In fact, we considered changing the name to Shmuz Bi-Weekly, but each of us is mutually exclusive in terms of the gender to which we are attracted. (Can you guess who only likes guys though?)

As for my appeal to all of you wonderful readers for your own made up lyrics, well, let's just say it did not garner quite as much attention as Tom Brady's right foot. And I completely understand. In speaking directly with people about their experiences on the subject, I agreed with them that in general, we often do not remember our own made up lyrics after they have graced the airwaves. People either must be listening to the song, or they simply make it up on the spot, like the spontaneous tears of our nation's first cyborgian candidate for president, Hilary Clinton.

So where do we go from here? I must officially begin this first post of the New Year by relating to you an experience I not only had twenty minutes ago, but also one that happens all the time:

I was walking across the frigid tundra of my college to a friend's abode, when I passed by two gentleman having a bouge. I did not know them, and they did not know me, but I decided to be bold and give them a friendly greeting. The exchange went like this:

Me: What's up?
Guy: Oh, not too bad.

Now obviously, "Not too bad" does not make too much sense as an answer to the question "What's up?" I suppose it's good nothing bad is up for that guy right now. But can we really fault him? Think of all the responses you have pre-programmed into your head for the conversational exchanges you engage in every single day. It's not that this guy was blackout drunk, nor was he the dullest colored crayon in the proverbial box. His brain simply referenced the wrong file. It pulled out the response for "How's it goin'?" instead of "What's up?" and I realized that we all allow for that because it's understandable. Inevitable. Here's another example*:

*Ding dong*
[I open the door.]
Pizza Delivery Guy: Hey there. Half pepperoni, half barbecue chicken?
Me: Yep.
Pizza Delivery Guy: Okay, that'll be 15.
[I hand him the money.]
Pizza Delivery Guy: Thanks.
Me: Thanks.
Pizza Delivery Guy: Enjoy.
Me: You too.

You see what I mean? The delivery guy tells me to enjoy my pizza, and my response is that he should enjoy my pizza too. Now while I probably wouldn't mind sharing a slice with the delivery guy, both he and I know that, at this point, the reality is he will gain no enjoyment from the pizza he just handed me. I wasn't trying to be a dick. I wasn't trying to gloat. I just gave him the wrong automatic response.

This raises the question of what would happen if all these automatic responses were somehow scrambled. What if a malfunction caused us to use them for answering questions other than those which normally prompt them? Imagine:

"Do these pants make me look fat?"
"Oh, not too much."

"On the night of the murder, where were you between the hours of 7 and 9 PM?"
"Just chillin."

"Will you marry me?"
"Fine, thanks."

I would say that the best solution is to consider any of the automated responses acceptable answers to any of the usual greetings, but it seems to me that we already do. I think that as long as people's tone and facial expression fit with the nature of a casual conversation, we are willing to overlook the actual substance of what they say. I'm not suggesting that the next time someone says "How's it goin?" you respond by saying "Fuck you!" with a big ole grin. But if someone asks you "How's it going" and you find yourself saying "Nothing much" ... don't think twice about it.

*Thanks to my friend Will for the idea behind this dialogue.

Shameless Plug

Hey y'all. I am very sorry for not being a more active participant in Shmuz Weekly this term, and I am also sorry for saying y'all. But please check out my blog jakeinthemiddleeast.blogspot.com and communicate with me via facebook cause I miss all of you dearly. Keepin' the peace, here in the East,

Huams

Doe rae me fa so la te DOH!

Salutations, Shmuzzes.

I do hope your New Years resolutions remain intact, though I know that's wishful. Perhaps you were going to quit smoking, for example, and then you lit up a bouge thirty seconds after the ball dropping, most random hook up you've ever had.

Anywayz, I have an idea and I need your help. You know when your in the car, rocking out to a song by yourself, and you're really belting it out, completely not self-conscious about the person in the car next to you wondering if you're mentally handicapped? And the words you're singing are NOT the real words. Because you made them up. You're not really sure what the song actually says, so, in order to sing along, you decide to go with a rough estimation.

At Shmuz Weekly, WE WANT YOUR LYRICS. Why? Because made up lyrics are hilarious and instead of keeping them between yourself and your rubber ducky, we think sharing them with our massive audience is your best option.

Take the song Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, for example. I've been singing this puppy wrong since I was in fourth grade, when I looked exactly the same as I do now. Below, I've put my lyrics in capital letters and the real lyrics to the song in parentheses.

WHEN THE LIGHT'S OUT, IT'S CONTAGIOUS
(When the light's out, it's less dangerous)
AND WE DON'T KNOW, IT'S CONTAGIOUS
(Here we are now, entertain us)
I WAS STUPID, AND CONTAGIOUS
(I feel stupid, and contagious)
I'M A LIGHTHOUSE
(A mulatto)
I'M A WINE-O
(An albino)
I'M A SKATA
(A mosquito)
AND A FEEDER
(My libido)
YEAH
(Yeah)

Now I know Kurt Cobain had his issues, but certainly he did not imagine himself to be a lighthouse and a wine-o, as my own lyrics to this song suggest. And this, my friends, is just the tip of the ice berg, for lack of a slezzier phrase. I know you've got some classics of your own. Please send them to us by replying to this message. You can put your own lyrics in the same format that I used for Smells Like Teen Spirit, or you can just tell us the name and artist of the song and write in your lyrics, and we'll look up the actual lyrics. You could also post them on the facebook group wall. Or on the comments for this post. Or you could tell us in person, although then we will ask that you sing your version out on the street. SEND US YOUR MADE UP LYRICS. Seriously. This could be the greatest thing since Kettle Cooked chips.