August 28, 2004

Keep ‘Em Coming, Kids As

Keep ‘Em Coming, Kids

As the whole World-Wide Web must know by now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are sponsoring our own First Annual Stupidest Lyric in Rock Music History Contest. As our official announcement of the competition makes clear, all submissions are due by September 9.

Naturally, we have received a bevy of gut-wrenching lyrics from readers worldwide. Even so, to make sure that the competition, like Delta Burke, is hot and heavy, we want to offer a few more choice examples of horrid lyrics, in order to inspire prospective entrants to our humble contest.

Accordingly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have troubled ourselves to offer this weekend post—a rare treat for our rabid fans. Without further ado, then, our Official Research Department has come up with the following abominable lyrics.

First, here’s a couplet from "Islands in the Stream," a saccharine duet sung by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers:

Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown
I set out to get you with a fine-tooth comb.

A fine-tooth comb? Oh, dear. Approximately how long did it take the lyricist of this wretched song to come up with that rancid line? Off the top of our collective heads, we can think of at least three rhymes that work better:

I love you even though your head’s a big old dome


Like a rabid dog my mouth was full of foam


I want to pluck the cherry on your ice-cream cone.

Now there’s some good rhyming, dear reader. Unlike that pathetic “comb” line, these verses actually make some sense. Perhaps Ms. Parton and Mr. Rogers will contemplate a switch for their next reunion tour?

Having lambasted the feculent “Islands in the Stream” tune, we may move on to another atrocious ditty, this one entitled “I Am Woman,” and sung by the largely unheralded Helen Reddy:

I am woman, watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe

Watch you grow? What a bunch of garbage. We’d prefer to get some weed killer and watch this woman curl into a ball and melt. You might be woman, Helen Reddy, but we’re the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” and we don’t take kindly to pseudo-feminist pop.

So, dear reader, by now you must be psyched up to send a torrentially bad lyric to us via the “Contact Us” link in the upper right-hand corner of your computer screen. We eagerly await your entries.

Posted at August 28, 2004 12:01 AM | TrackBack