MoMo and the PaPa’s


I love to sing.  I will sing to my heart’s content.  In the car, in the shower, at the store.  Out loud and proud.  All the time.  The older I get, the worse it is.  I just seem to sing more and more.  As if it were my last chance to do so.  My family hates it.  They claim that my voice “hurts their ears.”  Oh, such silliness.  I’m afraid they are just jealous because they don’t have the same God given talent.

I would really like to share my God given talent with you.  So, here’s a little treat.  A video of one of my favorite songs.  And aren’t we all doing a little California Dreamin’ by now anyway?

When I first saw the Screaming Goat, I was reminded of myself a bit.  So, I could not leave him out.  He’s my main back-up man (goat video courtesy of SickesTVids).  Besides, everyone else is doing it.  Why can’t I?

Now I’d like to talk about singing the lyrics incorrectly.  I know I’m not alone.  It makes the kid crazy when I do this.  And I do this often.  I’ll give you some examples.  See if you can guess the songs these lyrics are from:

  • I love that girlie water, oh Boston you’re my home
  • Take a load off granny, take a load for free, take a load off granny and put the load right on me
  • I belong with you, you belong with me, in my happy home (Happy Home.  You’re my Sweetheart.  Totally sounds the same, right?)
  • Wake up like a douche another runner in the night (how does a douche wake up exactly?)
  • I wish that we could get together and start a family (a cute little ditty by Melanie about a missing key and roller skates)

Here is one I mess up bad.  The following are the lines to another one of my favorite songs — “The Boxer.”  I have been inaccurately singing this song all my life.  And even though I now know the correct lyrics, I still sing them like this because it’s ingrained in my brain at this point.

  • In the quiet railway station where I’m running scared
  • Laying low, Seeking out the court reporters where the ragged people go
  • Just come on down from the war on 7th avenue
  • Where the New York City winters are a greeting me
  • Greeting me, going home

I know Paul would be proud of how peaceful this song makes me feel, but not so proud of how I slaughter the hell out of it.

Ok, so now I would love to hear what songs you murder?  I know you do it.  Everyone does.  Come on, share.  It’s fun.

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