bloglish

Why do people believe in some old sign?
Why do people believe in some old sign?
To hear a hoot owl holler, someone is surely dying

Some will break a mirror, cry, "Bad luck for seven years,"
Some will break a mirror, and cry, "Bad luck for seven years;"
And if a black cat crosses them, they'll break right down in tears

To dream of muddy water, trouble is knocking at your door,
To dream of muddy water, trouble is knocking at your door;
Your man is sure to leave you and never return no more

When your man comes home evil, tells you you are getting old,
When your man come home evil, tells you you are getting old;
That's a true sign he's got someone else baking his jelly roll

TITLE: Fogyism
MATRIX NO.: 20712-2
SINGER: Ida Cox V. with poss. Dave Nelson or B.T. Wingfield, ct; Jesse Crump, p; unknown, bj.
COMPOSER(S): Jesse Crump
DATE OF REC.: c. July 1928, Chicago, Illinois
ORIGINAL ISSUE(S): Paramount 12690
REISSUE(S): Document DOCD-5325 "Ida Cox Vol. 4

this sounds like something my mum would say

Is Starry the Kate Bush of blogging ? the use of WURDS is rather unique. You could sort of imagine Starry creating something like the washing machine song.

I suppose I do have rather large hair and occasionally haf been known to FLALE.

(Should I now define "leftie"?)

Hard enough to match the original "Just a Touch", this year's dick-polishing ditty from our suddenly vital-on-wax Uncle Fiddy. But dude no-way-fucking trumps it, wringing "...Coy Mistress" from a cat who's rhymed 'scrilla' with 'caterpillar' more times than numbers I'm familiar with. You've never enjoyed a fuck-rap swordfight like this, as cuddle-buddy coo gives way to loamy gnarl. 50's sugarplum serenade-- "Dick XXL/ You can call me the Source"-- elicits Wall's best jockstrap-swag: "You can call me Sgt. Slaughter when I beat up the twat." How's for wry crescendo? "Ménage a three ain't new/ I treat these boppers like my music/ All I want is the screw." Then just like 50, Wall lets us know who's skeeted on this track: "It's Paul Wall." He did this to you.

The funny part about this isn't just that nobody seems to remember how to read anymore -- or at least everyone's so media-saturated that they're just not willing to put in the extra two second's effort that reading takes -- but also that people think they're entitled to understand music criticism! Really, why exactly is that? I mean, I'd like for people to understand it, and I make a point of writing in a way I think lots of people will be able to understand, but still -- WTF, are people not aware that it's a bit of a specialized field, at this point? Where's the Observer article that's all like "Have you looked at these medical journals lately? Apart from the pictures I can't make head or tails of this shit -- just tell me about mechanized sigmoid colonoscopy techniques in PLAIN ENGLISH, please."