Monthly Archives: February 2006

This is funny also

Read these amazon reviews.

What a great idea — colonize underutilized space on a hugh commercial website to subvert it from within/drive its traffic higher with some spontaneous humor.

Check out this link if you want in on the fun.

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Sunshine junkie music (1)


The happiest song I know about being a heartless junkie is “Straight Shooter.”

Don’t get me mad; don’t tell no lie.
Don’t make me sad; don’t pass me by.
Baby are you holding, holding anything but me?
‘Cause I’m a real straight shooter, if you know what I mean.
You can bring me love; you can hang around.
You can bring me up; don’t you bring me down.
Baby are you holding, holding anything but me?
‘Cause I’m a real straight shooter, if you know what I mean.

I’ve been searching all night, just to find what I’m looking for.
Baby, baby, treat me right, or I won’t come round your door
No more!

You can bring me love; you can hang around.
You can bring me up; don’t you bring me down.
Baby are you holding, holding anything but me?
‘Cause I’m a real straight shooter, if you know what I mean.

I’ve been searching all night, just to find what I’m looking for.
Baby, baby, treat me right, or I won’t come round your door
No more!

Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep mania

I’ve been preoccupied with this song for months, ever since I heard it on a bubblegum compilation. It’s credited to Kisoon, Mac and Katie (really catchy band name, I will admit) but I think it’s timeless, part of our species’ DNA, a melody that’s hard-wired into our collective consciousness. It keeps coming up by apparent coincidence. My friend Bill contacted me recently to tell me of this great song he heard on a Cambodian Rocks compilation. Naturally, it was “Chirpy.” He said he thought he’d heard before on an album I taped for him back in the days of cassettes — something called Vacaciones En Mallorca. It’s kind of like this one

But it’s not. Anyway, sure enough, “Chirpy”‘s on it, in a rousing Spanish version. And now Chirpy mania is sweeping the nation, straight out of my private world of obsession and onto the Muzak at Two Boots in Rockefeller Center. I feel like I am in some simulacrum world designed from the refuse of my imagination. What’s next, besides seeing the same faces on the subway regardless of what time I ride?