(via celebrityhotshot.org)
Welcome to another edition of Rich Karski’s A SONG I HEARD TODAY: the only online music review column that has won NBA Defensive Player of the Year (1996.)
Thank you for coming back. I realize last week may have gotten a little weird for some of you, especially those of you who are harboring intense sexual feelings for me, and for that I apologize. I will not apologize for my love though, because who are we to judge matters of the heart? Some kind of three-headed spiked-gavel wielding super judge? I’m pretty sure NOBODY is that thing. If anybody is please contact me directly because I want to come to your pool party.
Since last week I opened my heart to you all, and laid myself naked at your feet (which I didn’t even cum on by the way YOU’RE WELCOME) I wanted to use today’s column to wipe that all away and start fresh, like so many Kleenex wiping cum off of a very sexy foot.
It was love that got us into this mess, and the only thing that’s going to even the score is pure unfiltered hatred. The kind of hatred that motivated Hitler. The kind of hatred that imprisoned Mandela. The kind of hatred that Garfield has for Mondays and Odie COMBINED. We’re going to have to dig into the deepest and darkest parts of my malignant black soul and pull up the thing inside me that inspires nothing but irrepressible rage, vitriol, and malevolence (AND I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT MY WIFE’S COOKING!)
Luckily for us, this heinous and loathsome creature also happens to be a musician (SUPER CONVENIENT YOU GUYS!) and his music is ubiquitous enough that I can rarely go more than two weeks without his horrible garbage voice sneaking into my brain and giving me hysterical mad cow disease (hysterical is a word of Greek origin meaning you are imagining something because you’re being crazy like a woman LOOK IT UP.)
That’s why for this week’s song I’m choosing my mortal enemy Billy Joel’s “You May Be Right.” Now come with me on a musical journey of homicidal fantasy.
(via www.45cat.com)
We begin with the artist: The Coward Billy Joel. Many times I have challenged this man to one on one combat and every time he has either declined or not even listened to my requests because he is scared of being felled in public by my might and my will. This putrid excuse of a human being walks around like a god while others have to suffer the injustice of his “music” being played on radios nationwide (Billy Joel is illegal in all other countries besides America because they are right and just. Even Pakistan.)
The Coward’s music sounds like if your dad’s cover band started writing original songs because the dude down the street who has been divorced four times spent $6000 on a keyboard since THEY CAN TAKE HIS PAYCHECK BUT THEY CAN NEVER TAKE HIS ART! Billy Joel is the sound of baby boomers patting themselves on the back for how great they are while also reminding the kids that “WE COULD RUFFLE A FEW FEATHERS BACK IN THE DAY!” Listening to Billy Joel is nearly indistinguishable from listening to a group of country club fuckheads reminisce about their days as college lacrosse fuckheads. He is the musical equivalent of the financial crisis.
When you first hear the song you probably think “my God, what holy relic did I desecrate that I am being punished so cruelly and severely? HOW DID I DISPLEASE THEE OH LORD!” But I assure you that’s just how all of his songs sound. He is trying to do a “badman rock and roll” song here but in reality he sounds about as bad as an ice cream headache.
Hey man, that shit hurts! (via chemistry.about.com)
Oh sure, he used to box, but he quit because somebody broke his nose. If I quit something every time I broke my nose I would have quit drinking six times already. This song sounds like what would play in an ’80s high school comedy after the nerd drank his first beer and went off the rails by wearing a tie on his head and trying to squeeze the hot girl’s boobs. Ugh. Let’s see what the garbage shit trash words are saying.
Friday night I crashed your party/Saturday I said I’m sorry/Sunday came and crashed me out again
WHOA SLOW DOWN THERE BILLY! You “crashed” a party at the house of someone who you are clearly familiar enough with to write a song directed specifically towards? That would be the least bad-ass thing anyone has ever bragged about if you hadn’t IMMEDIATELY APOLOGIZED THE NEXT DAY. You didn’t even wait until the next time you casually saw the person. You were so wracked with Jewish guilt that as soon as you woke up you called and apologized for doing something that they probably reacted to with a completely disinterested “Oh Billy’s here.” And I don’t know what to make of that Sunday remark but I’m assuming it means that you were so distraught that your apology wasn’t accepted that you slept all day LIKE A COWARD!
I was only having fun/Wasn’t hurting anyone/And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change
“Seriously Billy it’s okay. We wouldn’t have even noticed you were there if you didn’t keep asking if we had a piano.”
I’ve been stranded in the combat zone/I walked through Bedford Stuy alone
This is the scariest thing you could have said to somebody living in Long Island at the time. This was before white people had turned Bedford Stuyvesant into an Apple store, so what he is essentially saying is: “I WAS NEAR BLACK PEOPLE! THEY COULD HAVE LITERALLY REACHED OUT AND TOUCHED ME YET HERE I AM, BILLY JOEL: HERO. CONQUEROR. STANDING BEFORE YOU AND RELAYING MY TALE!”
Even rode my motorcycle in the rain
“AND I GOT DAMP ONE TIME TOO YOU GUYS!”
And you told me not to drive/But I made it home alive/So you said that only proves that I’m insane
I don’t think this proves that you’re insane, but it certainly foreshadows future behavior. Weird that a man who brags about drunk driving would end up wrecking three cars and a house treating Long Island like his own personal Daytona. I’m going to fuck you up Billy. It’s gonna get raw.
You may be right/I may be crazy/But I just may be the lunatic you’re looking for
“Hey babe remember how impressed you were when I was wet near all of those black guys? Let’s fuck.”
Turn out the light/Don’t try to save me
I’ll turn your lights out you ivory-tickling motherfucker.
You may be wrong for all I know/But you may be right
No, I’m right. I’m definitely right. We’re going to settle this once and for all and I’m going to dribble your fat East Egg head like a fucking basketball.
Remember how I found you there/Alone in your electric chair/I told you dirty jokes until you smiled
If Billy Joel cornered me at a party to tell me dirty jokes I would pray that my chair was electric so I could fry myself while also grabbing him by his stupid dick and electrocuting his dick until sparks and smoke came out of his dumb idiot head. How’s this for a dirty joke Bill? Your dick is on fire.
You were lonely for a man/I said take me as I am/Cause you might enjoy some madness for a while
“You ever been in the car with a drunk driver sweetheart? Don’t knock it ’till you’ve tried it. What’s that? Okay, sorry, but I bet the guy who killed your dad was having a GREAT time.”
Now think of all the years you tried to/Find someone to satisfy you/I might be as crazy as you say
“If you’re looking for an orgasm YOU’RE the crazy one you silly broad.”
If I’m crazy than it’s true/That it’s all because of you/And you wouldn’t want me any other way
So it seems like through this whole song he is confusing the term “crazy” with the term “problem drinker.” He doesn’t even qualify as a serious down-and-out alcoholic because he’s not even ruining lives yet he’s just fucking annoying. And now he’s blaming this poor girl who tried to give him the ONLY good advice in the song. He’s like one of those guys in the relationship that gets fat and his girlfriend says “Jesus look at your gut…” and he just responds with “You love it.” I’m going to have to start hanging out in black neighborhoods if that’s where Billy Joel walks around at night. While he’s strolling around keeping his guard up against THUGS, guess what? BAM! A WHITE GUY! HE NEVER SAW IT COMING! THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING RACIST YOU COWARD!
I’m not even going to dignify this song with a letter grade.
Every time I hear this song I’m just going to smash a keyboard with a hammer and mail it to The Coward Billy Joel’s house with a note that says “You’re Next.”
