Friday, October 22

Country Mu-Suck.



I miss the Practice Room. One of my favorite memories of it would be when we would clean it up. Imagine a group of tattooed and pierced teenagers vaccuuming and dusting feverishly so they could rock out properly in their clean area. Of course, I really like to clean things, so it should make more sense to you now. To the left of my drumset was a drawer containing about 200 broken drumsticks. Us kids sank thousands of dollars into that practice room, and what did we ever get from it?

Well, me and Ben got wives out of the deal. So we're pretty happy about that. That's a different story for a different time. I have other things to discuss with you today.

I bring up the Practice Room to hammer the point home that I'm somewhat of a musician. A genius, if you will. I used to write songs all the time, hundreds upon hundreds of them, sometimes 3-5 a day. So it would come as a shock to you if I said I haven't written a new song in over 2 years. It's true, though. I've moved on to bigger and better things, like Excel spreadsheets and other time-consuming activities that work has thrust upon me. In fact, I had planned on never writing another song ever again.

That all changed this morning, when I had to listen to a Country station for 3 hours.

It seems pretty obvious that I wouldn't like Country music, but it's not entirely true. Old school Country music was wonderful, fearless, rugged stuff that was truly emotional and great to listen to. This new breed of anthemic, name-brand dropping, tragedy-trashing Country pop is enough to make me go on a redneck-killing spree. I won't, however, because I'm an artist.

I wrote a song.

After listening to Keith Urban's "You'll Think of Me", I noticed how easy it is to write what I call "Take My..." songs. When you talk about taking things from other people, all you need to do is interlock rhyming nouns, and it sounds clever. Anybody can do it, so I did. Here's my "Take My..." song.

(Note: This will be much funnier if you actually know the song. The irony behind this notion is staggering, but it'll do you some good.)

"Get the Hell Out of my House" - By: Ryan Zeinert

Take my muffler, take my bath
Take my lesser chosen path
Take my single serving portion

Take my mountain, take my hat
Take my black ceramic cat
That I won on Wheel of Fortune

Take my hostage, take my wickets
Take my Packer season tickets
Take my Chevy, 'cause it's quicker

Take my back brace, take my flag
Take my dog, whos' tail doth wag
Take my welfare check for liquor

Take my gas grill, take my weiners
Take my bathroom cleansing cleaners
Take my coat that I am wearing

Take my trumpet, take my fife
You awful bitch, you ruined my life
Take my random fits of swearing.

"Take my..." songs are easy to write, and they're FUN! Give them a try, and post them in the comments section. I look forward to reading them. This weekend, I'll be visiting Ben and Sherry in Green Bay, where we'll be seeing Michael Moore. Then we're going to start getting our apartment ready for the Halloween Party we're attempting to throw. I'll be sure to tell you all about it. Don't forget to watch the World Series, and cheer my Dad on.

Bye!

Comments:
Haha...weiners.
 
It seems as if I've really struck a chord here.
 

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