wilder_drunk_song.pngOne day, I hope I become a successful (albeit undeservingly so) rock star, making millions of dollars and enjoying the celebrity afforded by radio stations across the nation playing my mediocre tunes. Perhaps once I achieve this status, I’ll be perfectly poised to write a song about wanting to be a rock star. By doing so, fans all around the country will hear about how I want to be a rock star and turn out to my shows, making my dream come true. Then, once they’ve seen that all it takes to become a rock star is to write a bunch of crappy songs and get everyone to listen to them, and then write about wanting to be a rock star, maybe they’ll want to be rock stars too. So they’ll sing about wanting to be rock stars, and more rock stars will be born.

I truly despise Nickelback.

While I’m on the topic of terrible music, allow me to briefly mention “Hey There Delilah.” Possibly the worst song I’ve ever heard (ranking up there with the likes of the Black Eyed Peas), it pains me to recall line after line of horrific rhyming and the kind of simplistic guitar plucking that even a drunken Van Wilder could rival. Seriously, I think the eight-inch turd I left curled in the American Standard could not only produce those chords if dropped haphazardly onto an acoustic guitar, but it could probably create equivalent lyrics if I cultured it in a petri dish and taught it a few vowels.

If you’re looking for a song that deals with almost the exact same subject matter but does so in a far more eloquent way, try “Such Great Heights” by The Postal Service.

14 thoughts on “scathing

  1. Name that song!

    ” Bongo the stone-crab got high as a kite. He fell and broke his shell”

    “I guess it seems like everybody’s lookin to find there own paradise, but it aint on earth, it’s up there in heaven. and someday were all gonnna dieeeeeeeeee.”

  2. “Pinacoladaberg”

    by Coconut Pete (Club Dread)

    They call me the mayor,
    Cause I spend all my days here,
    And you would too, if you knew what I know.

    Got a tropical treat,
    Sucked straight from the coconut’s teat.
    When mixed just right it makes your short hairs grow.

    Got a hole in my straw hat,
    two tires on my jeep flat.
    Maybe today…I’ll stay out of the sun.

    But the ladies are flocking.
    That means it’s time to start cockin’,
    That brain-freeze nectar…that fills my fun-gun!

    Pour still another glass,
    In Pinacoladaberg.
    Coconut milk with a pineapple splash.
    Don’t forget that the Rum comes third!

    Passed out flat on my ass,
    In Pinacoladaberg!
    Blood-shot eyes and a “sorba” stash
    Mouth tastes like piñata turd.

    Promised I’d take it slow,
    ’round In Pinacoladaberg.
    Booze-soaked lava is starting to flow,
    Guess I’ll have to drink my word.

    With bikinis to my right,
    God bless Pinacoladaberg!!
    This loud mouth soup makes my head feel light…
    Makes me feel like a dirty bird!

    Dang – these drinks are strong…
    Shouldn’t have smoked that bong!
    Now I’m too drunk to sing this song…

  3. i represent new york
    i got it on my back
    niggas say that we lost it
    so i’m’a get it… back…

    i liked this: “but it could probably create equivalent lyrics if I cultured it in a petri dish and taught it a few vowels.”

  4. circular logic aside mr mims, you have yet to provide a single peice of substantial evidence as to why you are, in fact, ‘hot’

  5. in the buff, being rude
    doing stuff, with the food
    getting lewd, with his food
    we heard that’s the kind of thing you’re into

  6. You are so right about Hey There Delilah. In fact, I read a portion of your post to my friends and we all had a good laugh about how right you are. That song blows.

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