Are you optimistic? / But you knifed me in your dirty filthy basement

I have a class reunion coming up this summer. "School's Out" by Alice Cooper pretty much summed up my loving affection for my old high school days. But, instead of having that for a class song [it was never even considered] we chose a rather heavy song by Chicago called "Dialogue", which was mostly shredded by our concert choir. Why do the directors of school choirs, glee clubs or whatever, think they have to take a reasonably decent class song, torture it and VOILA . . . turn it into a GOD DAMN POLKA.

Several years ago I listened to a *Class Song* version of "Imagine". It was so hideous and depressing that I had all I could do to just to "imagine" NOT opening up a vein.

If you’re going to fiddle around with something, Fiddle around with anything by Shakespeare. I STILL have NO idea what that fucker was talking about. Although I do love the word “ZOUNDS.”



Pieces of of the song "Dialogue"

Are you optimistic . . .

Don't you ever see the starvation in the city where you live
All the needless hunger all the needless pain?

Thank you for the talk, you know you really eased my mind
I was troubled by the shapes of things to come

Part II

We can make it happen
We can change the world now
We can save the children
We can make it better
We can make it happen
We can save the children
We can make it happen

It's an alright song, a bit weighty, but alright. Hell . . . I remember some dim-bulb in my class wanted "Indiana Wants Me" for our class song. I can remember being a bit bewildered by that choice because . . . WE LIVED IN IOWA ! I guess I should be thankful that he didn't want the song, "Hooray for Hazel" to sum up our high school years?



Pieces of "School’s Out"

Well, we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin' all that noise
'Cause they found new toys

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces

Well, we got no class
And we got no principles
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's out with fever
School's out completely

You have to remember . . . back then we only THOUGHT about school violence, never did it occur to anyone [well, at least not me] to actually blow up something that large. Although a friend and I did stuff firecrackers in the mouths of carp and blew them to smithereens, but only because we had just recently sold our souls to Satan, who in turn commanded us to blow shit up. In our case we blew up carp.
Plus, on page 16, section 7-9, article three in the Male Adolescent Handbook [MAH] gave us, adolescent males, explicit instructions about blowing ship up [BSU]. I had no idea that selling my soul to Satan and some, possibly most, of the ideas in the MAH would coalesce so nicely. Hmmmmm

To escape being called a "Flaming Nancy", it is the duty/sacred right of all teen-age males to mindlessly blow shit up [BSU]. [BingSU] will be defined as, anything [when looking back 25 years from the date of the you BSU that pertains to the actual annihilation of the object and/or thing being blown up. Attention is paid to the actual explosion, not the object being blown up. If you focus on the "thing" you blew up and it seems silly, and/or stoopid, and/or immature, and/or disgusting, you’re thinking WAY too much. Blowing up shit, not the shit you blew up is what's important. This is a very crucial distinction, because incorrect thinking about this can lead to self esteem issues later in life, assuming, of course, you were not already drowning in low self esteem when you blew that shit up . . . 25 years ago.

Looking back, it seems kind of ironic that we performed this adolescent confirmation/Satanic ritual at the site of, what used to be called, The Girl Scout Cabin [TGSC]. I assumed that the cabin had burned down years earlier, because all that remained was a rather phallic looking chimney.

I must also [enthusiastically?] confess to breaking out a window in back of the school, twice. I never got caught because I never told anyone I was going to do it, and after I did it I never told anyone that it was me that did it. Even back then I understood what it took to get away with doing shit like that. I finally fessed up some 20 years later. I'm not sure why . . . because it certainly wasn't a burning issue in anyone's mind. I guess I confessed because it gave me a sense of glorious accomplishment during an rather inglorious time in my life.

Our class motto was some gooey nonsense about not wanting to lead or follow, but only wanting to be a friend of the person we didn't want to lead or follow. Now THAT bilge-water was way over the top. There were no Goo-Free Zones [GFZ] set up, so we [the few] suffered in silence. I remember thinking at the time that it made far more sense if that fellow student, instead of walking ahead of me, instead of walking behind me, instead of walking beside me, or instead of juggling bowling pins on a uni-bicycle or whatever the hell it was he's was doing next to me, that it might be best if he parked his Bozo ass somewhere far far away from me, because if he was anything like me, he had nothing substantive to offer except more meaningless Bozo bullshit.



OK . . . now . . . since "We can make it happen" was a tad weighty, and "School's been blown to pieces" conjurred up images of BURNING/searing FLESH. Of course in today's world, if you wanted that for a class song, a SWAT team, like magic, would instantly drop out of the sky, appear on your front porch and frag your sorry ass. Or, if you were lucky and lived in a small town, they might only just try out their cool new Homeland Security Bullhorn *CNHSB* What would have been a good class song? Well . . . since there is no such thing as a good class song that would passs scrutiny, or a song free of the choir directors sticky tentacles, I decided on this toe-tapper.

I've printed the lyrics for those who wish to sing along. Just follow the bouncing ball [real or imagined].

And a one and a two . . .





Well, we all need someone we can lean on
And if you want it, you can lean on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can lean on
And if you want it, you can lean on me
She said, "My breasts, they will always be open
Baby, you can rest your weary head right on me
And there will always be a space in my parking lot
When you need a little coke and sympathy"
Yeah, we all need someone we can dream on
And if you want it, baby, well you can dream on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can cream on
And if you want to, well you can cream on me
I was dreaming of a steel guitar engagement
When you drunk my health in scented jasmine tea
But you knifed me in my dirty filthy basement
With that jaded, faded, junky nurse
Oh what pleasant company
We all need someone we can feed on
And if you want it, well you can feed on me
Take my arm, take my leg, oh baby don't you take my head
Yeah, we all need someone we can bleed on
Yeah, and if you want it, baby, well you can bleed on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can bleed on
Yeah, yeah, and if you want it, baby, why don'cha bleed on me
All over
Ahh, get it on rider, get it on rider , get it on rider
You can bleed all over me
Get it on rider , get it on rider, get it on rider
You can cum all over me.

If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't. But if I absolutely had to, I still wouldn't.

One last comment:

Just between you and me, Alice Cooper got one thing wrong. He said "and we got no innocence." Well . . . actually, I had quite a bit . . . and I miss it.