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Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me Amadeus

Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me Amadeus


I imagine that Beethoven wouldn’t have been a big Falco fan, but that’s not my problem. I’m sure Mozart wouldn’t have minded as much; he always struck me as having a good sense of humor. Beethoven, on the other hand, always seemed a little too serious for my tastes. It’s good to have a passion for your work, but when you’re so uptight that you could crush a walnut between the wrinkles on your forehead, you need to lighten up a little. Doom and gloom really loses its luster after a while, and Beethoven always reeked of doom and gloom to me. I don’t think he could help it. After the life he had, he’s more than entitled to be a bit moody, but there’s more to life than scowling at strangers in the park. Even if you’re well within your rights to be miserable, it’s much more commendable to project a pleasant demeanor.

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It’s Indescribably Beautiful

It’s Indescribably Beautiful


It may come as a surprise to many of you, but the French are know for much more than just snails, cheese, and surrendering to anyone who shows up with anything sharper than a baguette. France has been home to many of the greatest artists, musicians, and composers that ever lived. Debussy, Satie, Ravel, Saint-Saëns, and 2be3 are all renowned for their compositional prowess, timeless music, and washboard abs. Except for Debussy — he had more of a keg than a six-pack.

Perhaps I’m missing the point, somewhat, and 2be3 aren’t really in the same league as the other fellows. Naturally, they seem to be lacking some of the nuances of other French composers, but they’re all very French. There’s no denying how incredibly French they are. I’m glad they were able to succeed despite their terrible handicap, but I’m not going to patronize them. Their not-so-subtle attempt to rickroll me is not nearly as charming when Rick Astley’s sultry, sensuous baritone is replaced by three Frenchmen.

I will admit, 2be3 can probably pull a lot more French women than any of those other composers ever could. From what I can tell, a lot of women were entirely turned off by many French composers, and with good reason. Satie didn’t like leaving the room to go to the bathroom, so he would poop in the corner if he really had to pinch one. Saint-Saëns used to leave rather large portions of snail in his beard for snacking on later, and Ravel wrote Bolero.

Say what you will about Toujours La Pour Toi, at least it’s not Bolero.

If You Vote For Me, All Of Your Wildest Dreams Will Come True

If You Vote For Me, All Of Your Wildest Dreams Will Come True


I can’t tell if he’s the best dancer I’ve ever seen or the worst. They’re pretty much the same things when you get right down to it. A total lack of control over your appendages can be misconstrued as great dancing. I will admit that dancing requires some skill, but don’t let it get to your head. I can’t dance so I have no idea if this is good, bad, or a mixture of the two. It’s weird enough to merit me talking about it, so it must have some good qualities. If we have any dancers in the house feel free to correct me on this.

Busting a move is an obtuse art form. It has many schools of thought, and many stoic practitioners who make everyone around them miserable by doing a bunch of obtuse nonsense instead of being entertaining. I find the aforementioned video to be very entertaining because he doesn’t seem to be taking himself too seriously. On the other hand, if that display is him taking himself seriously then I really don’t know what to say. Taking serious artistic license with the absurd is like remaking Casablanca with cats. People aren’t exactly gonna watch it for the riveting plot, now are they?

In the end, it doesn’t really matter how you feel about dance. What truly matters is we all agree that Napoleon Dynamite has the best dance sequence of any movie that has ever been made, or ever will be made.

Play That Funky Music, Middle-Aged White Boys

Play That Funky Music, Middle-Aged White Boys


I’d buy their album. I’d get the exclusive, tour t-shirt. I’d wait around after the show just so I could tell the drummer that he rocked my socks off. I’d tell my friends to go download their tracks off YouTube and then maybe buy the album if they were feeling it. I’d do all of these things if I could be bothered, but I’m a very busy man who can’t chase around every band that catches my fancy. That’s what groupies are for anyways — and I don’t have breasts, so what good would I be?

There are other ways to support a band that you like other than fanatically buying all of their albums, mix-tapes, and bootlegs. You can always send them a strongly worded letter about how rad you think they are, or leave nice messages on their answering machine. I used to burn nice notes into their front lawn at night, so they’d wake up to find a few pleasant words. Unfortunately, I’m legally obliged to never do that again. Some people take their lawn very seriously, apparently.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts. Whether you buy a band’s album, subscribe to their YouTube, or send them an ear, they’ll always be appreciative. Except for the ear part, don’t do that. Paul McCartney really didn’t appreciate getting another one of those in the mail.