Category Archives: Songs

The Placelandian National Anthem

Placelandia! We celebrate

The nation that is not a state,

The place where politicians come to die!

Where residents have common sense

And our plan for national defense

Is not to be a dick to folks nearby.

Placelandia! We celebrate

Our lack (so far) of Watergate

Or other nasty scandals of that kind.

Where citizens think differently

And something backs our currency;

A country built with happiness in mind.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

A nation that can safely be ignored.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

Where drama-seeking tourists will be bored.

Placelandia! We celebrate

That here nice guys can get a date

And nobody is told they must comply.

Where everybody owns a Glock

And Fox exec Rupert Murdoch

Would not have had to cancel Firefly.

Placelandia! We celebrate

A place mostly devoid of hate,

Where legs just shave themselves if given time.

We hope you have enjoyed this song

And pop stars didn’t sing too long

Before the very easy ending rhyme.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

It’s a pretty snazzy kinda joint.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

Okay, okay, okay! We get the point!

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A Hollywood Musical

Hollywood!

(It’s so darn good)

Oh yes, oh yes, I say.

Hollywood!

(Land of falsehood)

Oh yes, oh yes.

Where what’s important aren’t the facts unless they fit into three acts.

The place where fiction goes to diiiiiieeeeeeee!

Where it’s okay to have no story. CGI can bring you glory.

So can manly men who cryyyyyyyyyyyy!

Hollywood!

(Our favorite wood)

Oh yes, oh yes.

They’ve done all they could

(More than they should)

Oh yes, oh yes,

To guarantee that you and me will pay hard-earned money to see

A bunch of actors green-screen flyyyyyyy!

Where shirtless six-packed men are common working at Starbucks, eating ramen

Hoping to be a leading guuuyyyyyyyyyy!

You can’t stop Hollywood!

(Long has it stood!)

Oh no, oh not Hollywood!

(What else rhymes with “wood?”)

Nothing I guess…

And if you’ve ever read the book at adaptations do not look

Because you know they’ll only break your heart in twooooooooooo!

And if derivative plotlines can’t send those shivers up your spines

Well, don’t expect the Fox execs to say boo hoooooooooooo!

They gave you big robotic brawlers

And already have your dollars

So why not make Skywalker say “screw yoooouuuuuuuuu?

So if you’re inclined to feel

You don’t want to keep it real

Then come to Hoooooooo

Llllyyyyyyyyyyyy

Woooooooooooooood….

(Dramatic pause)

Toooooooooooooooooo

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

(Olay!)

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Whose Phone Is This? (Aka The White-Guy-Alone-On-The-Bus-In-Harlem Song)

Whose phone is this

That disturbs my rest,

Who informs its master

By beeping?

Its constant noise

Does so make me stressed

For one minute ago

I was sleeping.

This, this

Is the white guy’s phone

Which disturbs your sleep

Via default tone.

This guy

Will be lain to rest

At the mortuary of Saint Mary.

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The Princess and the Tapeworm

We meet as if by fate

As quietly you chew your nails.

As the hour grows so late

We fall asleep and life falls off the rails.

Suddenly I’m in your head.

I listen to the signals your brain sends.

All of your nutrients are mine;

Your means will satisfy my ends!

You ate me up

And I’ll return the favor.

The taste of you’s

My brand new favorite flavor.

And now to you I sing this song

So you will never get me wrong:

I love you! You know it’s true

Even though I’m one inch long.

I hope you can digest the fact

I’ve gotten under your skin.

You’re losing weight, but just you wait

For our life together to begin!

Your pain is mine, and mine is yours.
I hope our love is true,

And even as you try to purge me

I’ll always have a special place inside of you.

You ate me up

And I’ll return the favor.

The taste of you’s

My longtime favorite flavor.

And now to you I sing this song

So you will never get me wrong:

I love you! You know it’s true.

By the way, I’m six feet long. 😉

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Theme Song For An Upcoming Children’s TV Show

He’s big and pink and fluffy,

Endearing, round, and puffy.

He’s very seldom scruffy…

It’s Murderface the Roach!

He loves your hugs and kisses.

He asks “you know what this is?

“It’s your dead former missus”

Says Murderface the Roach!

He’s the most huggable

Large chitinous bug able

To strangle you

In an alley at night!

He’s at home in the hood

Though he’s misunderstood

But if you bring that up

Best be ready to fight!

He’s got a friendly guise

That to trust would not be wise

Because he’ll stab you in the eyes.

It’s muuuuuuur

Deeeeeeer

Faaaaaaaaace

Theeeeeeeee

Rooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaa!

Ch.

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Being Mediocre

I may not be Annie Oakley

But you’ve never seen a fellow

Hit the broad side of a barn

Like I can do!

I may not be a doctor

But when a friend turns yellow

No one can say “there there”

Like I’ve learned to!

I’m not a jack of any trade.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve got it made.

I’m a wizard who can’t even cast a spell!

But that stuff is overrated,

Sloth underappreciated.

Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!

 

I haven’t learned a trade,

Nor the sciences or arts,

But I can sit around

Like no one’s business!

And when you see me doing

Nothing that requires smarts, you’ll ask

The fellow next to you

“Who on earth is this?”

I’m a man with no profession,

Absent when class is in session

Because I’m born unable to work well.

But that won’t dampen my mood

‘Cause my life’s still pretty good.

Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!

So if you’re not a Grant or Lincoln

There’s no need for you to feel

As though your greatest dreams

Will not come true!

Your dream of happy lounging’s

Achievable through clever scroungings

And if I can do it, surely

So can you!

I’m no poet but I rhyme!

You’ve a quarter, I’ve a dime!

I’ve no fear at all of being damned to Hell

‘Cause they’ll never let me in.

If you do nothing, you can’t sin.

Posthumous mediocrity is swell!

Yes being mediocre’s pretty swell!

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“An Updated Classic” Or “Backstory”

It was one of those days

When you want apple pie

But the waitress is cute

And you’re just too shy.

It’s one of those days

To spend at the riverbank

But when you drive there, the water’s

All stuck in a tank.

You want to hang out

With men who are classy

But good guys are drunk, so you settle

For guys who’re half-assy.

And you and your half-assy

Friends you’ll soon see

Just sit around singing

About mortality.

Oh my my,

I missed the American pie.

Drove my chevy to the levy

But the levy was dry,

And the good old boys

Were drinking whiskey and rye.

Yeah, I guess this’ll be

The day that I die.

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