GOOD VIBES - WHISKEY REQUIRED

As some of you know, one of my few secret vices is Karaoke.
That is to say, I occasionally have a whiskey and water while listening to other people trying to sing.
I myself do not sing, for the simple reason that I do not wish to drive people away. My musical ability is the audible equivalent of bad body odour, you see. Everyone steps out for a smoke when I croon - even the nonsmokers and timorous virgins.

You don't want me to melodiate.
Take my word for it.
You know what's good for you.


WAILING FOR PEACE

Most Karaoke practitioners are people of doubtful taste anyhow.
Can't sing, shouldn't sing.
They should've listened to their mommies. And darn it all, they still 'sing'!
What else can you say about a dozen gen X suburbanites doing the Oakland Booty song?

['The Oakland Booty song': "I like big butts and I don't know why!" by Sir Mixalot. It really doesn’t work for Anglos from San Leandro. Trust me.]

Some 'artists' are more than passing strange.

And some pick songs that perfectly express their wonderful personality.
It's a profoundly beautiful thing when that happens.

The other night a wan young man wearing skin-tight clothing sat at the bar swearing at his companion till it was his turn to sing.
Please imagine what he looked like while you read the following lyrics:

"We were at a party,
His ear lobe fell in the deep;
Someone reached in and grabbed it,
It was a rock lobster!

We were at the beach,
Everybody had matching towels;
Somebody went under a dock,
And there they saw a rock;
It wasn't a rock....
It was a rock lobster!

Motion in the ocean,
His air hose broke;
Lots of trouble,
Lots of bubble,
He was in a jam,
Stuck in a giant clam!

Down, down!

Underneath the waves,
Mermaids waving.
Waving to mermen,
Waving sea fans,
Sea horses sailing;
Dolphins wailing!

Red snappers snapping,
Clam shells clapping;
Muscles flexing,
Flippers flipping!

Down, down!
Let's rock!

Boys in bikinis,
Girls in surfboards;
Everybody is rocking,
Everybody is frugging!

Twisting round the fire,
Having fun;
Baking potatoes,
Baking in the sun!

Put on your nose guard,
Put on the lifeguard,
Pass the tanning butter.

Here comes a stingray,
There goes a manta ray,
In walked a jelly fish.
There goes a dog fish,
Chased by a catfish,
In flew a sea robin.
Watch out for that piranha,
There goes a narwhale,
Here comes a bikini whale. "

['Rock Lobster', by The B-52's.]


Dude, that was exquisite! It was you!
Really, it was. No one else could have so well embodied the new cultural paradigm inherent in those words. You are the Rock Lobster!


AFTERTHOUGHT

Actually, the very best audio-visual at the Karaoke bar ever! is Miss Joyce doing "sweat, baby, sweat, baby, sex is a Texas drought; me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about".
It's got bounce. It's got rhythm. It's Miss Joyce to da max.
A religious experience.

"You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals,
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel!"

[From 'The Bad Touch', by The Bloodhound Gang.]

"Love - the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket,
Like the lost catacombs of Egypt only God knows where we stuck it;
Hieroglyphics? Let me be Pacific I wanna be down in your South Seas,
But I got this notion that the motion of your ocean means 'Small Craft Advisory'! "


This is wonderful. Don't any of you poseurs DARE to go out to smoke while she's belting that out.
It's real, baby. It's why you took the long trek from San Leandro to the city tonight.

And yes, Miss Joyce is only 'miss' part of the time.


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