Song 2: A Foundation in the Blues

I'm not much of a rebel.
I don't own no blue suede shoes.
I've got one thing in common with rock & roll:
a foundation in the blues.

I don't know much about drugs.
Sex scares me through and through.
I've got one thing in common with rock & roll:
a foundation in the blues.

Doo-wop won't admit me.
I can't ride the New Wave.
I'm more Elmo than Emo.
And Christian Rock makes me feel unsaved.
I can't afford the Grunge wardrobe.
The same thing goes for Goth.
I'd try to ride on the Jam Rock line,
but I know I'd just want off.

I've never choked on vomit,
despite all the chunks I blew.
I've got one thing in common with rock & roll:
a foundation in the blues.

I've got one thing in common with rock & roll:
a foundation in the blues.

Song 1: Why Am I Still Here?

I said I'd find another job.
Tender my resignation.
I planned my moves. I told my friends.
Then I cashed another paycheck.
I said I'd quit when I had savings,
when I paid my student loans.
I'd flick 'em the finger
out the driver's window,
once I could afford a car.

So why
am I

still at the law firm?

I said I'd quit when I made partner.
Tender my resignation.
I planned my moves. I told my friends.
Then I cashed another paycheck.
I said I'd quit and buy a boat,
when I'd put away the cash.
An aquatic blender
and those styrofoam things,
so I could drink without fear of sinking.

So why
am I

still at the law firm?

7 Songs In 7 Days?

Yes, that's right. I'm going to write and record seven songs this week. Watch the quality, already at local Chinese take-out levels, reach as-yet-unanalogized depths.

Wish me luck. Listen along if you wish. I may even post multiple drafts of each "tune" to maximize your suffering.

Wheee.

dannylujackson.jpg

dannylujackson.jpg
Originally uploaded by dtaciuch.

Relevant lyric: "Yahee hee hee."

Uke Troop

Rifle on his shoulder,
Ukulele in his hand.
Who could stand before such a soldier?
Who could face such a dangerous man?

Rifle on his shoulder,
Ukulele in his hand.
Ladies wink behind their chadoras,
but he's a family man.
Sorry, ladies. He's a family man.

Rifle on his shoulder,
Ukulele in his hand.

Listen to it if you dare.

For Seth, Matt's buddy in Iraq. Thank you, Ukes for Troops.

Ass First

If I'd been born in a church,
Id've been a believer.
(Believer.)
If I'd been born in an office,
I'dve been a deceiver.
(Deceiver.)
And if my momma'd felt her belly distend
in the middle of a football field,
then by the sound of cheers
and whistles and flags,
I'd be condemned to be a tight-end.
(or a wide receiver?)

But
I came into this world ass first
I came into this world ass first
I came into this world ass first
and I intend to leave it
the same way.

What's in Your Mailbox?

Is it a copy of the latest Stomock album, No Shit? Could be. I'm mailing them out to longtime loyal fans as they roll off the assembly line.

Title Warehouse #8 (Holiday Edition)

• Write a Check to Santa


• Reindeer, Tasty Reindeer


• Thanks for the Trash


• We Don't Have to Talk to Each Other (but I still gotta get you a gift)


• Do You Smell What I Smell?


• Also With Birthdays Today

My Baby Hates Christmas

No, she's not a Muslim
or a Hindu or a Jew.
She's a regular middle-American Christian,
like me and you and...
(I guess not you).
She goes to church
and she says her prayers.
She's a fan of Jesus Christ.
But every year I fear she'll lose it
and a Santa will get sliced.

'cause my baby
hates Christmas.
She hates it like it kicked her dog.
She hates it like it stole her lollypop.
She hates it like it killed her Ma.
She hates it like it took the last piece of bacon
that she needed for her BLT.
Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas
like Christmas
was me.

Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas.
She hates it like it screwed her man.
She hates it like it gave her VD.
She hates it like it burned her ham.
She hates it like showed up late to the party
in the very same dress as she.
Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas
like Christmas
was me.

What Was In My Stockings

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.

You've always been
a manly man,
looking at the ladies.
You reassured me you
would look not touch.

It didn't really bother me
that you were a skirt-watcher.
But now I know you like the skirts
just a bit too much.

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.

Kinky panties. Sexy bras.
I saw you hid my presents.
I should've known better.
Such a large sweater.
The pumps were size-elevens.

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.