Task Me

Heartland Heartthrob Truculent and Unreliable (she doesn't cop to being devious, but if she tells you that whitewashing her fence* is a heap of fun, be skeptical!) requested that I tackle Ask in a comment in a previous post. Without further ado, here's my take on one of the most unabashedly "poppy" Smiths tunes:


Kindness is vice, and kindness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to.
Kindness is vice, and kindness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to.

So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye"
So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye."
If you task me, I'll say, "Sod off and die!"

Sharing's a vice, and sharing will stop you
From grabbing all things that this world owes you.

So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye"
So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye."
If you task me, I'll say, "Go, sod off and die!"

Spending warm summer days indoors,
Writing godawful prose, to an angsty teenage misanthrope.

Task me, task me, task me!
Task me, task me, task me!

Here in this gulch...
It is our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn
Our scorn that will bring use together.

Reason is a virtue, so is greed.
Reason is a virtue, so is greed.

You task me, task me, task me!
Task me, task me, task me!

Here in this gulch...
It is our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn
Our scorn that will bring us together.

Here in this gulch,
It is our scorn,
It is our scorn
That will bring us together.

Task me! Task me! Task me!
Task me! Task me! Task me!
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la


Of course, this is a spoof of the single Ask, which was featured on the essential compilation Louder Than Bombs. The original single featured backing vocals by the late, lamented Kirsty MacColl. The song is a pure pop confection, it's uncharacteristic (for the Pope of Mope) chipperness tempered by the very real fear of Mutually Assured Destruction ("If it's not love, then it's The Bomb that will bring us together."). So, for your three minutes of Rand-free pop bliss, here's Ask:






*Heh, "whitewashing the fence"...

Hi, Everybody!

I just checked out the stats, and found that I've had a spike in traffic from mentions on Rumproast and in the comments at Balloon Juice. I have to thank JScottG, who posted the link on Rumproast, and arguingwithsignposts, who linked at Balloon Juice. Thanks, folks, I just hope I provided some amusement for you during these hot, depressing days.

Greenspan Knows I'm Miserable Now

I've embedded some explanatory links into the text of the "song".


I was happy in the haze of polluting power,
But Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.
I was looking for a gulch, and didn't find a gulch,
And Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

In my life, why do I give valuable time,
To people who think tax evasion is a crime?

Two union guys stand, with paychecks in hand,
Now Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

In my life, why do smile,
At moochers who would steal me blind?

I was happy in the haze of polluting power,
But Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

What Ayn asked of me at the end of the day,
Nathaniel would have blushed.
"You've been with that hag too long," she said,
"And I, I want her dead."

In my life, why do I give valuable time,
To people who think price-gouging's a crime?


A lesser effort, compared to This Randian Man, but one cannot bring one's "A" game every time.

Of course, the song is a spoof of Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, but an Objectivist invoking heaven would not have been appropriate:

Moocher in a Tutu

In my last post, I noted that JScottG requested that I do Moocher in a Tutu. It would be safe to assume that he would have expected a play on the song Vicar in a Tutu (not to be confused with tuber in a vicar), but that's not how my muse rolls, baby! Here's my hastily written, compliant yet contrarian take on Moocher in a Tutu:


Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.

There are times when I want to murder him,
But the laws of the weak won't let me do him in.

Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.

Do you really think I'll go Galt?
Do you really think I'll go Galt?

Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Guh-guh-guh-guh-guh-guh-gonna go Galt!

There were times that I could have murdered him,
But was stopped by the rules of the weak and the dim.
Would you please let me beat him?

Do you really think I'll go Galt?
Do you really think I'll go Galt
Let my whisper my last goodbyes,
"Go suck it, parasite!"


Of course, this is a parody of Girlfriend in a Coma, which I consider a bit of a lesser effort by The Smiths (it sorely lacks that pure pop jangle of Johnny Marr's guitar). Here's a video for the song, accompanied by images of one of my all-time favorite actresses, the incomparable Dejah Thoris Louise Brooks:






In a previous post at my main blog, I embedded a video for Mojo Nixon's cover of Girlfriend in a Coma, which I actually prefer to the original. Now, if only, I say, if only Foghorn Leghorn had covered the Smiths, it would have been perfect.

Rand Man Strikes Again

Although one of the members of the blogroll at my mothership requested Moocher in a Tutu as my next parody, the nature of inspiration is such that the following came to me in the course of a couple of minutes:


Moocher, moocher I was only joking when I said,
I didn't want you well and truly dead.
Moocher, moocher I was only joking when I said,
Your body shouldn't be filled up with hot lead.

And now I know how Howard Roark felt,
Now I know how Howard Roark felt
As the flames rose, past his upturned nose
As he razed where the moochers now dwelt.

Rand man, ooooohohohaha, Rand man, whoa ho ho ho,
Rand man strikes again,
You've got no right to shackle him,
With your worldview dim.


Of course, Bigmouth Strikes Again is an easy target- much of the song consists of "Ho's and Ha's and Whoa's and La's". That being said, The Fountainhead is an even easier target. Here's a video for Bigmouth Strikes Again, for those not familiar with the original:

This Randian Man

In the course of my 24 posts in 24 hours push, I wrote a post speculating about how The Smiths would have sounded had Morrissey been a hardline Objectivist. This notion has been bouncing around my head for the past couple of weeks (chalk it up to being in a locale with no electricity). Put succinctly, I've had an earworm which was a song which had never been written, so I had to go ahead and finish the damn song:


Mooching parasites, and a tax rate burdensome,
The average working stiff is a bum
But in this hidden gulch, this Randian man.

Why be a slave to guilt and dread,
When the superman's path is the one that you tread?

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."

A titan simply shrugs,
and drops the wicked world,
Leaves moochers to their fate,
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."

This Randian man

A titan simply shrugs,
and drops the wicked world,
Leaves moochers to their fate,
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.


Of course, for those unfamiliar with Monsieur Morrissey and The Smiths (get with the program, hippie! or get offa mah lawn, kid! whichever the case may be), here's the tune that I dragged kicking and screaming into a dry gulch inhabited by sociopaths:





Originally posted at my Blogospheric mothership.

The Post Which Started It All

I was thinking, "What if there were a parallel universe in which Morrissey were a hard-core Objectivist? What if The Smiths were forging rearden metal? What would that sound like?"

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."





This post originally appeared at my multi-subject blog.