Yes, it's that time again. Either I crank out something for this blog or Dr. Loveless has me fed to the Jar Jar Binks fans he keeps locked up in the basement (for the good of humanity, I assure you).
I have always wanted to be a philosopher.
It seems like a really easy gig. Spout off the occasional "deep thought" or question, throw in words like "nihilistic", "existential", or "tetrachromatic", look smug and superior ( I really have this part down), and the next thing you know, you are hip deep in coeds.
The only problem is that, as a paying profession, it ranks about ten spaces below "art history major", or, in remunerative terms: minimum wage plus a dime for working third shift on the Fry-o-Lator.
There is also the problem of topics. The great philosophers of human history, from Socrates to Sartre, have labored over what they considered to be the important questions of human existence. You know: Why are we here?, What is the nature of evil?, Is there a God?, Does free will exist?, and Who is Robert Ludlum and why does he keep writing the same book over and over again?
Billions of trees have been ground to pulp addressing these and other equally tedious questions.
I submit to you, it is time for a new set of questions. And better yet, for actual answers to those questions that don't require plowing through 800 pages of ossified text that make reading a software license agreement seem spellbinding.
But who can give us these questions?
Why, songwriters, of course. These folk have made an industry out of asking deep, philosophical questions, and BLOODY WELL GETTING PAID FOR IT!!
It stands to reason that if they can get paid for simply asking questions, I should be able to rake it in by the fistful for providing the answers.
So, for your enlightenment and edification (by the way, I should get five bucks from each of you just for using edification and tetrachromatic in this article), I give you Answers to the great musical questions of our age.
Do you know the way to San Jose?
No, but I can look it up for you on MapQuest.com
Do you know where you’re going to?
I just told you, San Jose, and I need directions.
What’s your name? Who’s your daddy?
Fred. You’ll have to ask my mom.
Does your mother know?
Maybe not. She did drink quite a bit in her younger days.
Why don’t we do it on the road?
Because that possum over there didn’t flatten itself.
Does your chewing gum lose its flavor on the bed post overnight?
Chewing gum? On your bed post? And you wonder why you can’t get girls to go out with you?
Do you love me?
Not bloody likely! Anyone who keeps his chewing gum on his bed post gets crossed right off my list of potential objects of romance.
Hello lamp post, whatcha knowin’?
Dude! Where do you get your drugs and can I have some?
Why do fools fall in love?
Same reason as everyone else, barring some congenital defect in the endocrine system.
How do you mend a broken heart?
I find that a good heart surgeon will usually do the trick. The REAL question is “will your insurance company cover it?”
Where have all the flowers gone?
Uh, it’s Fall. They’ll be back in the Spring, so chill.
Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?
Because you’re Tippi Hedren in an Alfred Hitchcock movie?
Who’s crying now?
The baby right behind me on EVERY FREAKIN’ PLANE I FLY ON!!!!
Whatever happened to Saturday night?
It’s right there after Friday, and before Sunday, where you left it. And would it really kill you to clean up once in a while?
Who put the sham in the shama lama ding dong?
Look, I’m just following the recipe in the Paula Dean cook book, though I suppose it could be a typo.
When will I be loved?
My guess is as soon as your special inflatable friend arrives from Frederick’s of Hollywood.
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Probably not after I’ve sobered up.
Do you really want to hurt me?
Well DUH! What part of “I am a sadist” do you not understand?
Who’s that girl running around with you?
Uh, upon advice of counsel, I wish to exercise my rights under the Fifth Amendment.
How much is that doggie in the window?
$692.14 plus tax. But wouldn’t it be cheaper AND more responsible to adopt one from a pound?
Who’ll stop the rain?
Isn’t it better to buy an umbrella, than curse the rain?
David Allen and this blog post are brought to you by the childishly simple passwords Bill and Amy keep using for this site.
PS: If you want YOUR musical questions answered by a trained professional, post them in comments, and you, yes YOU, may be selected to have your question answered.