Choked out a Polka

I know, another song. I don’t question it, I just bow to the gods of timing. Actually this was written when I was neck-deep in Lutherans at Valpo. Just how hardcore these folk are was impressed on me at a Reformation Party held by some of my classmates. The party featured 95 Jell-O shots, 95 theses scotch-taped to a door and the pièce de résistance: a ritualistic chanting of The Reformation Polka sung around a roaring bonfire stoked with, let’s face it, probably Catholics.

Yeah, I don’t know why I went either.

Kidding! I went because of friendship and a little bit because of beer. I stayed because I was afraid any movement of a non-Lutheran object could ignite the rampant, airborne Lutheranism and make me a target. Then the singing began. The challenge had been made- the line was drawn, the weapons were chosen.

Unfortunately, it takes time to write a song, and returning to the site of the party a few days later when my song was complete would have reeked of a comeback that comes to you too late to be of any use (see also: jerk store). So in solace to all the other Catholics at Valpo and beyond, I offer this song. Use it wisely.

The Reformation Polka: A Catholic’s Response
sung to the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidoceous

We all know of our German friends, they can’t go many years
Without attempts to overthrow and conquer all their peers.
Once upon a time they made a list of why they’re bitchin’
“Can’t cut it as Catholics so we’ll make a new religion!”

Chorus
Martin Luther bobble heads, framed pictures on the wall
We’ve lowered all our standards so hey, folks, come one come all!
Join us and be Lutheran, there’s one thing you must do –
End everything you say with “This most certainly is true.”

“We don’t believe God’s in the Host, at least not all the way.
You don’t need to confess your sins to priests on each Sunday.
We’ll write down what goes on in church so there’s no need to know it –
Our reverends can get booty so they each can have a ho.” It’s…

Chorus

Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, sit next to Martin Luther.
We love him just as much as You, and really that’s the truth. Er…
Did we say that out loud? Now let us just get one thing clear.
God is really super. (pause) Let’s all go drink some beer.

Chorus

“Lutherans are right!” they shout. “Just look at all this proof!
Almost a hundred theses, it’s no wonder we’re aloof.”
When we’re all dead we’ll have to see if God gets pissed for libel,
I hope He doesn’t care how many books are in my Bible.

Chorus

When I first came to Valpo, I guess I was naïve.
I came here for a major but I’ll leave with a pet peeve.
Lutherans can lecture me for endless lengths of time –
As long as they’ve a bulletin so they know all their lines.

Chorus

Screeches of Me

In honor of Asslee Simpson's performance on SNL... the first time I've laughed at that show in years

sung to the tune of 'Pieces of Me'

On a Monday I am grating
Tuesday I am faking
And Saturday? Still can’t sing
Then the show starts, what does live mean
When your voice comes from a machine
A recorded lyrical string

Play, they played the wrong voice track
No need to catch my breath
I’m a quack

Ohhhh
It’s funny how my “talent”
Wasn’t ever really there
And I have ugly hair
Ohhhh
You’d think if it was taped then
We’d have time to make a choice
They’d find a better voice
Than the screeches, screeches, screeches of me
All the screeches, screeches, screeches of me

I am tone-deaf and pitchy
My face is so twitchy
As I ride my career’s crest
I’m a phony and it pays bills
In a family with no skills
Thank God for Jessica’s chest

Play, they played the wrong voice track
When I realized it was wrong
I tried to dance

Ohhhh
My sexy belly dance is
Just a trick that I’ve been taught
And now that I’ve been caught
Ohhhh
I hop ‘round like an idiot
At least my mic is off
But please feel free to scoff
At the screeches, screeches, screeches of me

Now that you know
What am I supposed to say?
Wasn’t it obvious?
But just in case, I’ll blame my band
Who cares if they really played?
Yea

The next Monday I am waiting
For my contract’s negating
And my fall to
Obscurity

Ohhhh
Who knew that singers were expected
To carry a tune?
And not dance like baboons?
Ohhhh
And when I slunk off of the stage
I’m shocked they didn’t cheer
They didn’t have to hear
Ohhhh
Well, no one had to hear
Ohhhh
But everyone will jeer
At the screeches, screeches, screeches of me
All the screeches, screeches, screeches of me

Some Open Letters I've Been Meaning to Write

Dear Man At Spiderman 2 and Woman Who I Assume Was Your Wife,

Wow, that sure was a crowded theater, wasn’t it? My sister and I barely found seats! (We were the ones sitting next to what I assume was your son). Normally, I try to leave a buffer seat, but there just wasn’t room.

People like your son are the reason I leave a buffer seat. See, while I appreciate the fact that the little guy likes Spidey, perhaps you should explain to him that other people do, too. And some of us want to listen to the expository dialogue (however stunted or corny it may be) as well as the fight scenes. I also like fight sound effects, but generally prefer them to be a. only during said fight scenes and b. performed by professionals, i.e. not your son.

I noticed you did talk to him, and that was a step in the right direction. I propose that you put him in between you and your lady friend/wife so you can both watch for telltale signs of irritating behavior and give him a look of death and/or smack upside the head according to the situation at hand. That, or dip him up to the neck in Botox before taking him to the theater. Because I think that’s the only way we can cure those muscle spasms.

Convulsively yours,
Lisa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Boy Who Liked Spiderman 2 A Whole Lot,

Hi! I’m here with a fun science fact! I know it sounds logical, but even if you suck on your straw hard enough to collapse the sides of your glass and rattle the ice around, the resulting vacuum will not bring your soda back. No matter how many times you do it. It may cause unseen forces to whack you in the head, though. So seriously- knock it off.

Scientifically yours,
Lisa

P.S. Every time you kick the seat in front of you, your dog dies a little bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Uninterested Lady At Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,

Are you aware that we are living in a free country? That seeing every movie made is not mandatory? That you do, in fact, have the option to say ‘no’? (Although judging your book by its cover, as I am wont to do, you rarely say ‘no.’ But in this case, I mean ‘no’ as in ‘Thanks for inviting me to Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, but I think I’d rather stay home and Febreeze my crotchless fishnet tights and tease my hair to untold heights.’)

Maybe you were there to showcase your arguably amazing gum snapping abilities. Because honestly, it was like you were chewing on regenerative bubble wrap. I’m sure your lingual abilities will serve you well in other aspects of your life. Perhaps I could have appreciated it more had you not been doing it in my ear. Imagine my shock when I realized that the snapping had stopped! I turned, positive that you were suffering from some sort of comatose state due to the end stages of some intricate combination of STDs.

I’m glad you are flexible enough to curl up and nap in the seat. I’m also grateful that the snapping stopped, the snoring never started, and you weren’t learning on me. But you should really get that drooling problem checked out. Drowning is a real danger here.

Soggily yours,
Lisa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Woman Next to Me at The Bourne Supremacy,

More power to the independent moviegoer! It’s quite liberating, isn’t it? Whatever seat you want, focused completely on the movie at hand… the lone cinematic experience can be a great thing. I guess I didn’t realize the theater was going to be so crowded. Who knew a bloodied, amnesiac Matt Damon had such long-term box office draw? Mmmmm…. But anyway.

You know how there’s some noises you can only hear in your head? No, besides the voices. Well, I’m just letting you know that the symphony in which you were apparently playing first-chair Slurpee-straw violin was not one of those noises. We all heard it. And the general opinion was that you need some serious practice time, preferably served outside of a theater, or to take the lid off of that cup already.

Harmoniously yours,
Lisa