Debasement Tapes

by Tom Smith

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02:36
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(free) 00:49
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02:57
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01:40
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about

Fair Warning: There are no soaring, dramatic lyrics here, no plaintive melodies, no heartstrings. It's a house concert with about two dozen friends and a full hour of Tom at his most insane, ably assisted by The Smithtones (Anne Schneider and Karen Foran Underwood) and a breathtaking amount of take-out BBQ.

credits

released 25 May 1999
Additional Vocals: Anne Schneider, Karen Foran Underwood
Recording Engineer: Leslie Larkins
Producers: Tom Smith and Leslie Larkins

The use of copyrighted songs on this album is protected under the Fair Use provisions of 17 U.S.C. § 107. All trademarks and/or copyrighted materials owned by persons, agencies, or entities other than Tom Smith are invoked for satirical purposes only, and remain the properties of those persons, agencies, or entities. Challenge to trademark or copyright should be neither implied nor construed.

tags

tags: comedy filk folk rock singer-songwriter Ann Arbor

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about

Weird Al with more books, Coulton with more jokes, Carlin with more Cthulhu. Since 1985, Tom Smith has been breaking hearts, minds, and laws of propriety and physics with his insane blend of sf/fantasy, Life With Computers, pop culture, politics, and puns. More than twenty albums later, he maintains the best is yet to come. ... more

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Track Name: Five Years
It's been... five years since we went online,
Laurel Takashima's gone, but Susan's so fine,
Five years since the Vorlon came,
Someone tried to kill him, Sinclair didn't take the blame.
Twelve years since we held the Line,
Twenty-four hours missing outta Jeff's mind,
Yesterday, it went off TV.,
But it'll still be okay, 'cause we got the story.

Oh my God, how it enthralled me, with Garibaldi,
He's getting' balder every season.
He got attacked, his buddy Jack, he went and shot him in the back,
To keep on track the planned assassination/treason.
Hot like Ivanova and Talia, we're gonna Draal ya,
And then we'll kick a little Zathras,
Al Bester's in the Psi Corps, we got a mind war,
Ironheart's the mower and you're the grass.
Lennier and Vir will share a beer and watch Adira disappear,
Without her, Londo's Morden likely bound for darkness,
So it begins, and then Delenn will spin Triluminary
Thin and glowing spiderwebs and step into the Chrysalis.

G'Kar is helpless, then he's hostile, then a holy man,
Trying hard not to smile in front of Sheridan,
I'm the kinda guy who laughs at the Shadow horde,
Can't understand, then you're not a three-edged sword,
I have a tendency to do my thinking with my hands,
I have a history of taking off my gloves.

It's been... five years since Third Age began,
John met Delenn, but Anna would be back again,
Five years since we met Neroon,
He ended up a hero, started out a major loon,
Three years since the Shadow War,
Nastier than any aliens we've seen before,
Yesterday, all the Narns were freed,
But there is something still Keeping hold on Centauri.

Medieval Marcus, the Rescue Ranger,
Lorien shows up, and things get stranger,
Watching out the window of a White Star, it came from Minbar,
And then we'll steal Babylon Four.
Sinclair's fork would be a Valen Tine, he travels through time,
And Ba-Bear-Lon Five is too cute.
Lyta comes back and she's eyin' a guy named Byron,
And Reebo in a Zooty Zoot Suit.
Gonna meet the violence with defiance and Alliance
Cause the giants left the playground with a lot of blood and sorrow.
Gonna get a room on Z'Ha'Dum, the ship'll zoom,
And then go Boom Shubba Lubba 'cause there's always one tomorrow.

How can I help it if I think they're driving Johnny mad?
All the time used to smile, now he's Dave's dad,
I'm the kinda guy who'd rather walkabout than run,
Can't understand why they killed their own son.
I have a tendency to shorten everybody's hair,
I have a history of lopping off heads.

It's been... five years since "The Gathering",
Beginning, middle, end, Joe wrapped up the whole thing,
Five years since we saw this show,
How good it was gonna get, there was no way to know,
Three years since we really knew,
We voted Joe a Hugo, then we gave him Number Two,
Yesterday, it went off TV.,
But we have still got Crusade, so we ain't too sorry.

Still got Crusade, so we ain't too sorry....
Still got Crusade, so we ain't too sorry....
Bring me the head of Londo Mollari.
Track Name: Callisto
To surf on the net, or to surf TV channels,
Over and over, there's been one request:
It's Xena we want, the Warrior Princess,
At least Gabrielle, and we want them undressed.
Now, I have to admit, they're not unattractive,
But if we're talking fantasies, I want the best.

Aye, Callisto, I think that I love you,
You psycho bitch leather queen killer bombshell.
Hai, Callisto, I sing to your spirit,
I'm doing it now, 'cause you're going to Hell.

Ai-yi-yi!
Whoh-ooh-ohh...
Ai-yi-yi!
Whoh-ooh-ohh...

I've noticed a trend in the Xena fan-fiction:
Our heroes are lesbians, friendly and more...
Meanwhile, on the show, they're all into bondage,
Shackles, and leather, and sex on the floor.
If these two trends combine, we'll get... Mistress Callisto...
Enslaving our heroes...
... the ratings will soar!

Aye, Callisto, put Xena in irons,
I hope you take Gabrielle over your knee,
But, why, Callisto, does Xena obsess you?
You do it to her, but I wish it was me.

Aye, Callisto, I think that I love you,
You psycho bitch leather queen killer bombshell.
Hai, Callisto, I sing to your spirit,
An hour with you would be worth any Hell.

Ai-yi-yi!
I-I-olous -- wait, that's the other show...
Ai-yi-yi!
Whoh-ooh-ohh...

(The extra verse and chorus mentioned above)

She once was a babe, a blonde in black leather,
A sexier snuff queen you never would find;
But then came the plots where Xena redeems her,
And now she's all gentle and loving and kind;
Her wings are a joke, and her robes sure are glowing,
Some jerkface producer is out of his mind....

Aiee, Callisto, you're Touched By An Angel,
A cloying self-righteous defender of peace,
I, Callisto, speak for your male viewers:
Corrupt Roma Downey and dump Della Reese.
Track Name: Alien Adventures
We're spiny, we're hoary, we're all a little gory,
And in this here story we'll be doing things obscene,
Now John here is Hurtin', his entrails are spurtin',
We'd better draw the curtain on this ugly little scene.

So here's the Nostromo, where the android lost his head.
Ripley and the cat escaped, but all the rest are dead,
We're nasty, we're vicious, we're vile and pernicious,
It's Alien Adventures, come and join the team!

Here's Bishop, here's Apone, they know there's no escape-on',
'Cause we'll do oral rape on the nearest walking food,
Here's Chester, here's Hugger, the grown-up is a mugger,
And Queenie is a bugger if you burn up all her brood,

We're xenomorphic nightmares, and the symbolism's rich,
If you don't understand it, get away from here, you bitch!
We're biomechanic, and maybe you should panic,
It's Alien Adventures, and it's not a dream!
(Dee de dee dee dee -- No one can hear you scream.)
Track Name: Honey-Glazed Ham
See the tree, how big it's grown
Since I have lived here on my own,
And it's been good,
Since Christopher began his fun
And brought us all to live in Hun-
Dred Acre Wood.

Well, I came home today to stretch
Before the mirror, and then fetch
My hunny-pot.
Now, I'm a simple-minded bear,
But I know there was hunny there,
And now there's not.

And Hunny, I miss you,
You left without a sound,
Wait! What's at the bottom?
-- Oh, bother. Piglet drowned.
Track Name: (Min)Barrette
We thought we owned whatever space we flew through,
We sought our missing souls and lived with pride;
Then humans came along and killed our leader,
And I've aided and abetted genocide.

And so I metamorphosized half-human,
To fulfill a prophecy and make amends,
And try to bridge the gap between our peoples --
But no one ever warned me of split ends.

Please, Ivanova, help me regain my dignity,
For this stuff is matted, brittle, dry and thin,
Can you recommend a shampoo and conditioner?
Can you help me with the curlers of Delenn?
Can you help me with the curlers of Delenn?

If... hair... to Minbari is weird,
Someone tell my why half the guys have a beard.

And Lennier thinks it must hurt me, but it's... oddly nice
To have follicles wrapped up in strips of tin,
But I draw the line at wearing a babushka,
Just to cover up the curlers of Delenn.

Thank you, Susan, you're a champ --
ooh! That's odd, what was that cramp...?
Much more painful than the curlers of Delenn.
Track Name: Be Our GOH
Ah, good evening, monsieur (or mademoiselle, or Madame)!
It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure
That we welcome you here this weekend.
And now, we invite you to relax, pull up a chair,
As the Con Committee presents:
The Big Lie.

Be... our... GOH, be our GOH,
Howdy! Welcome to our show!
Won't you tell us how your journey went?
We'd really like to know.
... Smoking? Coach? Luggage smashed?
Well, at least you didn't crash.
There's no limousines or chauffeurs,
But we'll send one of the gofers.

They can drive, they can sweat --
Almost half can spell, I bet --
And in Fandom no one ever travels slow,
So every crunch and screech will end up in your speech
When you're our GOH,
Thank you so,
Be our GOH.

Here's your room, here's your key,
Here's your schedule: as you see,
We've got twenty different panels here,
And you're on twenty-three.
It's okay, don't be scared,
For this crisis we've prepared,
We'll divert all of the Trekkies
To the local burned-out Stuckey's.

Here's your chair, here's your plaque,
Here's a gun if you're attacked,
They're expecting David Brin or Lo Bujold,
But neither one could show -- besides, your rates were lower
As a GOH --
Feeling low?
Here's a double case of Stroh,
Be our GOH,
Be our GOH,
Be our GOH.

Life is filled with tension
When you're chairing a convention,
There's no hole where you can crawl and drag it shut,
Ah, those good old days when I was rested,
Gainfully employed, not in this rut.

Ten years now I've sponged off it,
Never saw one dime of profit,
Though I sold pre-reg at five times one-day-price,
Subsisting on beer and beefaroni,
Made fun of in LOCUS --
You accept, and hocus-pocus!

It's a GOH, it's a GOH,
Hay-sus Kristay, Holey Moe!
It's a real published writer
Who makes lots and lots of dough.
Hi there, pal, hey there, friend,
Are you busy this weekend?
I'm surprised that you forget me,
You were plastered when you met me.

Here's a book to critique,
It should only take a week,
I'm a genius but I hope you'll tell me so.
So I'm devoid of talent -- still, it is a gallant
Effort, though...?
Please say so!

Be our GOH, be our GOH,
You're our very favorite pro,
There's so many that we wanted,
You're the only one we know.
See the nerds on parade,
Judge our lousy masquerade;
Now, exhausted and with blank wit...
Let's get ready for the banquet!

Plastic pork, tungsten fish,
Bounce potatoes off the dish,
Then the filkers shake the walls till dawn or so,
Get kicked out on your ear --
Won't you come back next year?
We won't have dough,
Or folks you know,
But even so, please,
Be... our... GOH!
Track Name: Seven Drunken Nights In Space
I came home on a Monday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw a shiny spacer-bike where my old bike should be,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Whose spacer-bike is that right there where my old bike should be?"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's an exercycle that Vic Tanny sold to me."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But an exercycle with missile racks I've never seen before.

I came home on a Tuesday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw an empty pressure suit, size eighty-seven-D,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Whose pressure suit is that right there, what's big as the average tree?"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's a twin-size water bed bought from the Gallery."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But a water bed with a codpiece on I've never seen before.

I came home on a Wednesday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw a charged-up laser gun where my old gun should be,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Whose laser gun is that right there where my old gun should be?"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's a spark-plug timing light that K-Mart sold to me."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But a timer that melts the engine block I've never seen before.

I came home on a Thursday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw some Saurian Brandy, vintage Twenty-Ninety-Three,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Where'd you get that hooch for which you'd have to mortgage me?
(You didn't, did you?)"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's a sample of perfume that Avon sold to me."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But perfume that de-hairs the cat I've never seen before.

I came home on a Friday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw some foil BVDs with leg holes numbering three,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Whose underwear is that right there? It don't belong to me."

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's a liquid crystal screen for my IBM PC."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But a PC supporting an athlete I've never seen before.
(Obviously running a laptop.)

I came home on a Saturday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Would yez kindly tell to me
Who's that there head upon the bed where my old head should be?"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
That's a lovely hologram to keep me company."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But a holo with panties caught in its teeth I've never seen before.

I came home on a Sunday night, as drunk as drunk can be,
And I saw a nine-foot humanoid a-looming over me,
So I says to my wife, I says to her, "Who the fuck is THAT!?"

"Ahh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, but now I think you'll see,
That's a Klingon-Borg half-breed what's fell in love with me."
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But the Doppler Effect while I was on foot I've never seen before.

So now I sit in a spacer bar, as drunk as drunk can be,
And grateful all my skin and bones are still attached to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a million miles or more,
But if I ever look at a woman again -- Wait. Who's that babe by the door?
Track Name: ConValescence
Nothing can last forever,
Nor halt the progress of Time,
So imagine us all together,
When we're all way past our prime.

Our children still won't understand us,
Their children will covet our toys,
So now is the time we should plan this,
Retaining our fannish joys.

(Chorus)
So let us all gather at ConValescence,
The fannish retirement con,
And true to our habits, like drumming pink rabbits,
It keeps going on and on.

When we cannot keep up with the gamers,
When the Next Generation's too spry,
Let's all move into The Bionic Arms,
And party till after we die.

The guests, of course, are all legends,
The cream of the speculative crop,
Still writing their stories long after
We've given up hoping they'll stop.

There's Piers Anthony's newest Xanth novel,
David Eddings, Misty Lackey and thus,
Between that, and Star Trek books, we're certain,
That the series won't end before us.

(Chorus)
So let us all gather at ConValescence,
Where old-timers go to renew,
(optional spoken shtick:
"Renew! Renew! Attorney General Renew!")
Where Doug Adams' hero is named Effer Dent,
And the Film Room shows Mister Magoo.

Where the Art Show has pictures of Dorian Gray,
Where the Tully and oxygen's pure,
And where we will party, flirt, filk, shmooze, and SMOF
Till the Con Suite runs out of Ensure.

Just try to imagine that banquet,
Of whatever foods we can still eat,
And the Masquerade will take forever,
'Cause with blue hair, we all can compete.

And on Sunday, we'll have us a dead dog,
Stuffed, on wheels, with a braided pull-string,
And then we'll go back and start over again,
We've already forgot the whole thing.

(Chorus)
So let us all gather at ConValescence,
The fannish retirement con,
And true to our habits, like drumming pink rabbits,
It keeps going on and on.

Waiting till the last moment for tickets
To that WorldCon that's up in the sky,
We'll have a last bash at The Bionic Arms,
And party till after we die.

(Denouement)
We pray for one last landing on
The planet third from Sol;
When our journey ends, we will wear Depends,
And take our Geritol.
Track Name: Sonuva
I hate the world today,
'Cause it's jealous of me, I guess that's okay,
But if you make fun of me because my mother is my father underneath,
I'll bust out your teeth.

Yesterday I cried,
For the eighty-seventh time, ol' Kenny died.
How he keeps on coming back's a mystery, better him than me,
As l long as I get what I want, then everything is fine --

Son of a bitch, I am Cartman, and I am a work of art,
Give me Cheezy Poofs galore, I am BEEFCAKE, hear me roar!
I'm a child of the Nineties, I'll kick your little hinies,
And I wouldn't want it any other way.

So take me as I am,
Hunting with Jimbo, who's got guns from Vietnam,
Having parties with stuffed animals for tea, meeting Kathie Lee,
The Jesus-Satan pay-per-view, best two falls out of three --

Son of a bitch, I am Cartman, and you don't want me to fart,
'Cause the Aliens disrobed me, strapped me down and probed me,
Keep your dog far away, he's homosexual and gay,
And I don't like how he's looking right at me.

Son of a bitch, where's my cheese, no, I've never seen my knees,
But I know that I am buff -- BEEFCAAAAAKE!
I'm a man, I'm a myth, I'm a short fat Doctor Smith,
You know you wouldn't want it any other way.
Track Name: Instant Clinton (Just Add Whitewater)
(chorus)
Where, where the hell is Bill?
Where, where the hell is Bill?
Where, where the hell is Bill?
Where, where the hell is Bill?

Maybe he went to visit Janet Reno,
Maybe he wanted a Big Mac and fries,
Maybe he went to give Trent Lott a wedgie,
Maybe he went to visit Monica.

(chorus)

Maybe he went to see Martha's Vineyard,
Maybe he went to beat up Strom Thurmond,
Maybe he went to go visit Montana,
Maybe he went to see Jesse Ventura.

(chorus)

Maybe he went to take Hillary to Cleveland,
Maybe he went to get a brand new set of sneakers,
Maybe he went to buy a video tape,
Maybe he just doesn't want to be here.

(chorus)

Maybe he went to be on Jerry Springer,
Maybe he went to be on Larry King,
Maybe he went to be on Rosie O'Donnell,
Maybe he'd like that.

(chorus)

Maybe he went to sign some bills from the Congress,
Maybe he went for a Disney vacation,
Maybe he went to get some black-eyed peas,
Maybe he went... because he can.

(chorus)
Track Name: Barenaked Cockburn
Part 1:

Sittin on the front porch, in the warm summer sun,
Keeping very still, 'cause I want to have some fun,
Waiting for my victim, five, four, three, two, one --
If I had a rocking lawn chair,
If I had a rocking lawn chair,
If I had a rocking lawn chair,
Some kitty's tail is done.

We've gone to the convention, the convention's gone to Hell,
We're getting lots of grief from, the staff of this hotel,
We need a Lilliputian, who knows just what to yell --
If I had a pocket con-chair,
If I had a pocket con-chair,
If I had a pocket con-chair,
This con would be just swell.

Part 2:
("Grade 9" section)

At the Rio Lacuntun, a hundred thousand wait,
Dying of starvation, or some less humane fate,
Cry for Guatemala with a corpse at every gate,
If I had a rocket launcher, I'd retaliate,
If I had a rocket launcher, I'd retaliate,
If I had a rocket launcher, I wouldn't hesitate.

("If I Had A Million Dollars" section)

Here comes the helicopter (Here comes the helicopter),
Second time today (It's still tryin' to find a good place to park),
Everybody scatters (Everybody scatters),
And hope it goes away (Y'ever try cleaning up copter poop?),
How many kids they've murdered (That weren't watching Teletubbies),
Only God can say (He'll be on Jerry Springer next week),
If I had a rocket launcher,
I'd make someone pay....

If I had a rocket launcher (Not Van Halen's rockin' long-hair),
If I had a rocket launcher (Not Pete Sampras's racket lunge here),
If I had a rocket lau-au-u-aun-cher, I-I-I'd kill....
Some son of a bitch.
Track Name: Filk In The Blanks
Once upon a time, there was a cute little girl,
Who lived with her aging Grandpa,
And who hoped that one day she would travel the world,
And retire to a Norwegian spa.
She picked lots of flowers and sang lots of songs,
For a child, she truly was wise,
So when alien brain-suckers happened along,
That child was truly surprised.

They did the things alien brain-suckers do,
Which mostly means sucking on brains.
They probed places probably best left unprobed,
And showed her brand-new types of pains.
They did things that would've freaked Mulder and Scully,
They aimed and they shot and they scored,
Then they made her forget that she'd ever been sullied,
And dumped her back in the fjord.

So, let this be a lesson to cute little girls,
And to anyone hearing this song:
Don't ever let aliens suck on your brains,
Although the temptation is strong.
You never can face your dear mother again;
If a lawyer, you'll be thrown off the bar.
Only tabloids and Jerry Springer will be your friends,
And you'll get rude phone calls from Ken Starr.

... and, a whole bunch of audience suggestions later...

Once upon a time, there was a crunchy little possum,
Who rotted with its horrified Grandpa,
And who hoped that one day it would plummet off the Eiffel Tower,
And retire to a Disney World spa.
It stomped lots of bedbugs and whirled lots of eggplants,
For a possum, it truly was wise,
So when alien elbow-planers happened along,
That possum was truly surprised.

They did the things alien elbow-planers do,
Which mostly means planing on elbows.
They digested places probably best left undigested,
And showed it brand-new types of Velcros.
They did things that would've bewildered Bonnie & Clyde,
They conjugated and they escaped in a Cadillac Terra,
Then they made it forget that it'd ever been burbled,
And dumped it back on the Sahara.

So, let this be a lesson to crunchy little possums,
And to anyone hearing this song:
Don't ever let aliens plane on your elbows,
Although the temptation is strong.
You never can dance your dear red meat again;
If a spelunker, you'll be thrown off the deli.
Only Matt Drudge and X-Files will be your friends,
And you'll get rude butterscotch from your belly.
Track Name: On The PC
The source code is always cleaner on somebody else's drive.
You dream about each new upgrade, without which you must survive.
You're not a registered user, you're more of a pirate bold,
You got no support or manuals for software that's four years old.

On the PC, on the PC,
There is no viler shell or compiler than one that's free,
If you want to ease your awful pain,
Then you got to stick with public domain,
But bootleg the disk and
You're living risky
On the PC.

The IBM folk is snooty, they got Super VGA.
The Macintosh folk ain't snooty, Amiga blows them away.
But Macintosh folk is lucky, Big Blue got a worser fate:
Keeping everything compatible - down to Eighty-Eighty-Eight.
Oh, God!

On the PC, on the PC,
Companies bloat us with templates for Lotus One, Two and Three,
Microsoft runs at a snail's pace,
And we all know why the call it "d-Base,"
But the worst vice is,
Look at the prices

For the PC, so you stole with glee,
Disks unprotected -- now you're infected virally.
If you'd paid the bucks, you'd be secure,
Now your whole collection you've got to cure,
Rip out your hair and
Call the repairman
For the PC.

There's fuzz in the SCSI, lint in the print,
The modem, she owe them a lot down at Sprint,
The optical drive is coming alive,
And spits out the CD-Rom.

The cable's too short for the parallel port,
One click of the mouse begins full abort,
The disks burn to ash, the system will crash,
And hear that hard drive BOMB!

(Chorus chords, played as instrumental; look deadpan at the audience and say, "Loading final chorus -- please wait")

Dump your PC, dump your PC,
Buy an Amiga, even a Sega does more for me,
Buddy, your computer really stinks,
You could get more power out of a Lynx,
Go on safari,
Find an Atari,
Dump your PC.

It's a big-name toy,
Up there with Game-Boy,
Dump your PC.

Macintosh Plusses
Crash all their busses.
Bald guys in crew-necks
All turn to Unix,
PS/2 can't, man --
It's just a Plant Stand,
Dump your PC!
Track Name: PC 99
The source code is always cleaner on somebody else's drive,
You dream about each new upgrade without which you must survive,
You bought your computer last year, but that was your worst mistake,
'Cause now you want something faster, increase your frame rate for Quake.

On the PC, on the PC,
Who cares what you do, long as it's Voodoo, Virge and 3D?
The most sophisticated stuff in years
Is obsolete before your check clears,
Fit out your tower, WE NEED MORE POWER on the PC!

The IBM's too ephemeral, components don't work quite right,
The iMac is one big emerald, like transparent Kryptonite,
And off in the Myst of history, Amiga's dreams may come true,
But what it'll be like's a mystery -- except that its box will moo.
GATEWAY!?

That's a PC! And that's a PC,
That one, and this one, blink and you'll miss one, and that's the key.
Can you be this dumb? You're not so sure,
Acronyms and numbers all start to blur,
Let's try to slow down, get you the lowdown on the PC.

(Tune: "Kiss The Girl")
Yes, you want it, Look at it, you know you do,
Just a thousand bucks or two, it's all multitasking,
But you don't want to buy it, all its parts will fry, it's
Just a... Packard Bell.

The trackball is cacked, the mouse starts to grouse,
You ain't got the Paint Shop book in the house,
The inkjet is blinking, paper's escaped,
And Windows slows to a crawl.

You're losing your bytes like an aging shark,
The DVD-ROM shows only South Park,
The scanner is bland, the hard drive is charred,
And makes no sound at all....

Ahhhh, the PC, ah, the PC,
These days, it's forbidden to use software written too carefully,
If it's all the coolest toys you seek,
Simply buy a new computer each week,
The mighty are fallen, they're all web-crawlin', on the PC.

College is cheaper than playing Minesweeper on the PC.

Start loading, start waiting, we're all vegetating,
Try each new flavor of your best screen-saver,
I can't recall my old life at all before the PC.
Track Name: Dammit, They're Felt and Legumes
(... Two, three, four, get 'em at your local store!)

Bomp, bomp, bomp, bomp, ba-domp-pom-pom-pom-pomp.

She was at lunch, and she went to McDonald's,
To get a nice Quarter Pounder with Cheese,
But as she stood in the line at McDonald's,
A mob of moms chopped her off at the knees.
(Two, three, four, feel the rumble, hear the roar!)

They... were... all...
Frothing at the mouth with rabies, wanting teeny Beanie Babies,
That were sold with each kid's Happy Meal,
So many colors, lotsa shape-ies, eeny meeny Beanie Babies,
And soon her toes she once more could feel.
(Two, three, four, help the woman off the floor!)

Bomp, bomp, bomp, bomp, ba-domp-pom-pom-pom-pomp.

So, if you like to have lunch at McDonald's,
Order early, by phone or by fax,
Or else the army of cute toy collectors
Will stomp a path over your broken backs.
(Two, three, four, of course you know that this means war!)

Your... jaw... will...
Drop in disbelief the way these people hunt down Beanie Babies,
Going postal for things with no use.
I guess we should be glad, 'cause maybe next time they'll be BARNEY Babies,
Or maybe Cabbage Patch Couscous!
Track Name: Death Sheep 8
It's been years since he first manifested,
It's been years since we last heard a peep,
But today he's tanned, ready, and rested --
Let the whole world beware of the sheep!

Down in the bowels of Hell, where the jowls of
Fiends emit howls of unending pain,
Dwells a dark herbivore, thirsty for blood and gore,
Pity there is'nt more stuff in his brain.

Savage and sullen, wily and woolen, and
Hoping to pull one more over our eyes,
Jealous of demons who make people scream on the
Multiplex screen, and he's planned a surprise.

Movie fans just got lucky,
It's the villains you all love to hate:
It's Freddy and Jason, Mike Myers, and Chucky --
And FENTON!
In Death Sheep 8!
BAAAAAA!

Fenton was ravin' of horror film mavens, all
Worthless and craven, before him they'd bow,
So perfect a plot, an idea so hot, and what
Matter he'd not the first clue as to how.

But then he remembered his sweet glowing ember of
Love for a member of female sheepkind,
The Goddess of Vulgah, the Queen of the Bolgia -- he'd
Go and ask Olga what she had in mind.

Jamie Lee said "Forget it",
Neve Campbell made up a hot date,
But give us eight bucks and you'll never regret it,
It's Fenton in Death Sheep 8.

Slowly the plan went in motion,
Scottish sheep blood with one little jab,
Infused with alchemical potions,
And used in a genetics lab.

Fertilized eggs became beings,
Until Fenton, one morning in spring,
Could not believe what he was seeing,
And, all teary-eyed, started to sing:

(Tune: "Hello Dolly")
Well, Hell-o, Dollies, well, hello, Dollies,
It's so nice to have you here where you belong.
You're looking swell, Dollies, here in Hell, Dollies,
You're a horde of demon sheep, a hundred... thou-sand strong.

I feel the room quaking from the knees shaking
On those horror movie villains who pretend,
So,
Get into your grooves, ladies,
Trample 'em with your hooves, ladies,
Wipe out all those cinema shmucks,
Let 'em know their genre sucks,
And who'll be left to get the bucks?
FENTON!

(Tune: "Along Came Jones")
Well!
About this time, they got someone to remake Psycho 3 --
If it didn't get to film, it'd run on U.S.A. TV --
Down at the mock-up Bates Motel,
Norm tried on his mother's hat:
"'My mother made me do it all' -- what the heck was that!?"

And there was a rumble (and then?)
And the doors burst open (and then?)
And a hundred thousand voices all said, "BAAAAAA!"

And then along came clones, demon sheep clones,
Blood-spewing clones, cud-chewing clones,
Along came big, mean, na-a-asty clones.

With Hollywood trampled, ol' Fenton has sampled the
Blessings most ample of media hype,
Thought it was groovy, then put down his hoof -- he
Controls every movie, and, God, they're all tripe.

That, of course, brings us, to why I must sing this,
Won't someone please spring us from this awful fate?
Science or blarney, Bruce Willis or Arnie,
I'd even take Barney -- It's not yet too late.

There's no other explanation
For Godzilla, Deep Impact, Stargate --
Won't somebody somewhere come rescue the nation,
Or all-there'll-be-to-see-is-Death-Sheep-8!
Bah.
Track Name: Time Plot
It's astounding that Starfleet has
No working time machine,
So listen closely, Deep Space, Next Gen and Voyager,
I've got to keep this clean.

I remember "... Edge of Forever,"
Look at what's happened to Trek since then.
What was done uniquely now is practically weekly --
Let's do the Time Plot again!
Let's do the Time Plot again!

It's just a temporal shift --
A Cosmic Entity just-can't-get-it-right!
Put your hands on your phasers --
Misunderstand and fi-i-ight!
Apologize and tru-u-u-ust --
This stuff'll drive you insay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ane!
Let's do the Time Plot again!
Let's do the Time Plot again!

I feel disgusted, reality's busted,
The timeline we trusted ain't there at all.
I change something teeny, my mom's Mussolini,
I break wind, and galactic empires fall.

We can make up new babble, with a tile set from Scrabble,
Dropped into a word processor on blend.
Give us visual whiz tricks, but ignore math and physics --
Let's do the Time Plot again!
Let's do the Time Plot again!

Well, I was walking down the street when Sherlock Holmes
Summoned up a big demon with some ancient tomes,
The British Royal Navy got me safe offshore,
Then sold me into slavery, behind the Green Door.
I signed up for an interstellar Trek,
Now I'm gonna take a hatchet to the Holodeck!

Let's do the Time plot again!
Let's do the Time plot again!

(tapitty-tap-ta-tap-ta-tap)
Eight, six, four, two, we can blame it all on "Q"!

Eat your heart out, Marty McFly!

Let's do the Time Plot again!
Let's do the Time Plot again!

It's just a temporal shift --
We try explaining it, but just-can't-get-it-right!
Break out the techno-babble --
It's Science Fiction Lite!
Ignore the stuff you kno-o-o-ow --
This stuff'll rot your bray-ay-ay-ay-ay-ain!
Let's do the Time Plot again!
Let's do the Time Plot again!
Track Name: Telly Taley Heart
You say I must be mad, but how can I be mad?
You look at what I did and ask me "Why?"
Object there was none, passion there was none,
I think it must have been his evil eye.

That's why every night I shone a little light,
I shone it on him through the bedroom door.
On the eighth night he woke, and then his neck I broke
And I buried him underneath the floor.

I cut him apart, I planned it from the start,
There wouldn't be evidence to scan,
But then I heard his heart, his telly taley heart,
Telling everyone I killed the man. (Whooo!)

I buried both his legs beneath the garbage dregs,
His arms beneath the hanger for his coat.
The tub caught the stain, then hid the skull and brain,
So now he's got ring-around-the-throat.

The police came by here, but what had I to fear?
I let 'em in to take a look around,
But the longer they stayed, the more my nerves were frayed,
And then I heard that cotton-ticking sound.

Don't find the heart, the telly taley heart,
'Cause that's the only weakness to my plan,
And if you find the heart, the telly taley heart,
You'll prob'ly figure out I killed the man.

Don't find the heart, the telly taley heart,
It's pounding loud enough to beat the band,
'Cause if you find the heart, the telly taley heart,
You'll prob'ly figure out I killed the man. (Whooo!)
Track Name: 500 Hats
When I wake up, well, I know I'm gonna be,
I'm gonna be as poor as when I went to bed.
When I go out, well, I know I'm gonna have,
I'm gonna have this feathered cap upon my head.

Go to market, well, the streets are crowded now,
But they're moving back in deference to the King.
When I see him, well, I show respect and bow,
And take off my hat -- hey! What's wrong with this thing?

I might wear five hundred hats,
And I might wear five hundred more,
But it's insulting to the King,
Oh, God, I see him coming o'er.

Down in Whoville, all the Whos way down in Whoville,
Well, you know they all liked Christmastime a lot.
But the Grinch, the Grinch who lived just North of Whoville,
Well, you know that nasty Mister Grinch did not.

In the Jungle, well, you know, down in the Jungle,
A young elephant named Horton hears a call,
And that dust speck, that dust speck'll be protected,
For a person's a person, no matter how small.

I do not like green eggs and ham,
I do not like them, Sam I Am.
I do not like them here or there,
I do not like them anywhere.

Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!) Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!)
Bom-badda-dum, badda-dum, badda-dum-badda-da-dadah.
Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!) Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!)
Bom-badda-dum, badda-dum, badda-dum-badda-da-dadah.

When I leave home, I leave home to walk to school,
And to think I saw it on Mulberry Street.
And the Once-ler, up there lurking in his Lerkim,
Watched the Lorax lift himself up by his seat.

The Collapsible Frink'll honk a Hinkle-horn,
Mister Brown can moo, he must think he's a cow.
Where's my moss-covered three-handled family gridunza?
You are lucky, did I ever tell you how?...
Marvin K. Mooney, will you please go now!

And I can lick thirty tigers today,
I had trouble getting to Solla Sollew,
And I can read with my eyes shut,
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue.

Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!) Butter Battle! (Butter Battle!)
Bom-badda-dum, badda-dum, badda-dum-badda-da-dadah.
Yertle Turtle! (Yertle Turtle!) Yertle Turtle! (Yertle Turtle!)
Bom-badda-dum, badda-dum, badda-dum-badda-da-dadah.

And I can wear five hundred hats,
And I can wear five hundred more,
And in one hat there'll be a cat --
Oh, thank dear God, my kid's begun to snore.
Track Name: Smurfin' Safari
(Music: "Surfin' USA" [Berry])

If everybody had a T.V.
Turned on on Saturday,
They'd see some little blue bimbos
Who love to sing and play,
They'd see an old one named Papa,
And a girl one too,
She's got a bushy blonde hairdo,
Smurfin' USA.

They got a couple of movies,*
Thirty million toys,
Smurfy Douche for Sister,
Underoos for boys,
They're overcoming our culture,
They'll never go away,
Everybody's gone Smurfin',
Smurfin' USA.

* If you are fortunate enough to have a backup singer or two, they can sing:

Inside, outside, USA,
On TV six times a day,
"Smurf"'s the only word they say,
Noun or verb, it works okay,
Screw the ASPCA,
Make them go away...

(Music: "LIttle Deuce Coupe" [Wilson/Christian])

Now, I'm a geologist, I study the land,
But I'm kinda clumsy holding rocks in my hand.
But I met a little lady, only two inches tall,
And she carries all my samples that happen to fall.
She's my Little Blue Scoop,
Picks up all of my rocks.

(Music: "Surfer Girl" [Wilson])

Little girl, all solid blue,
Five foot four less five foot two,
Do you love me, do you, Smurfer Girl?

Nine and ninety little guys
Slobber when you bat your eyes,
You're a shameless hussy, Smurfer Girl.

In the vast Enchanted Forest,
Girls are hard to find,
And if none of them have noticed,
They must all be blind.

Of the Smurfs I've seen in there,
Only two have body hair...
Do you love your Papa, Smurfer Girl?

(Music: "Surfin' Safari" [Berry])

Don't ever go alone in the Enchanted Woods,
'Cause you're guaranteed to meet your end.
There's something living there that is just no good,
And it's got an awful lot of friends.

There's a cranky little geezer with magic powers,
And he's colored all solid blue.
There's only one way to keep yourself from pushing up flowers:
Get him before he gets you.

So come on, grab a shotgun and DDT,
I'm gonna take you Smurfin' with me,
It doesn't matter if they hide behind a rock or tree,
'Cause they don't blend in with the scenery.
Let's go Smurfin', now, hit the woods and burn 'em out,
Come on a safari with me,
Come on a safari with....

(Music: "Barbara Ann" [Fassert])

Gar-Gar-Gar, Gar-Gargamel.
Gar-Gar-Gar, Gar-Gargamel.

Oh, Gargamel,
God, your breath does smell,
Oh, Gargamel,
You gotta get yourself clean, so grab some Listerine
And gargle well, well, well.

(Music: "Fun, Fun, Fun" [Wilson/Love])

Well, we snuck into the Magic Woods, we were in disguise, now,
We surrounded the village and took 'em all by surprise, now,
And when the napalm hit, they were all little blue French fries, now,
And we had fun, fun, fun, blowin' all the little Smurfers away.

Yeah, Vanity, Brainy, and Smurfette are all pretty dead, now,
Grandpa and the little blue twins are all pretty red, now,
And Papa took a thousand rounds or so right in the head, now,
And we had fun, fun, fun, blowin' all the little Smurfers away.

(bridge: chorus from "Brian Wilson" [Page])

And now I'm... lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did,
Lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did.

Well, we took out the Gummi Bears, Chipmunks, and all of the rest, now,
We cleaned up our Saturday mornings, watchin' only the best, now,
We watch Beany & Cecil, Bullwinkle, and Jonny Quest, now,
And we have fun, fun, fun, blowin' all the little Smurfers away.
Yeah, we have fun, fun, fun, blowin' all the little Smurfers away.
Yeah, we have fun, fun, fun, blowin' all the little Smurfers away.