My train of thought A journey while listening to lady gaga.

Alone in the car, driving down the same familiar paths to familiar destinations I sit in silence. Often listening to the humble drone of the warm engine brings me comfort of sorts. For in my silence I am free of the constant bombardments of the buy and sell world of advertisements I was born into.In my familiar standard, the silence is broken with a catchy tune mixed of what seems to be orchestrated electronic fuzz and what I assume to believe what Satan would sound like at a drunken Karaoke night at Applebee's. What the hell.


I cannot help but listen to this cacophony of drum machines and questionable sexuality pitch changes in voice. Has the music industry I used to so fondly admire, so rich in craftmanship and passion taken possibly the darkest turn in its everlasting history? I continue to listen, drawn in like a buzzard to a light, but I feel If grandpa forced you to shower with your sister, for the sake of awkward home movies.What the hell



Understanding that music is created to illustrate a story, a message or an idea.....What message was about to fester in my mind having listened to this.......?


Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer" would not be the same song if it were titled "Jimmy: The left handed bicyclist"


Debussy's "Clair De Lune" would be a romantic disaster if it were titled "Honey I'm sorry I came on the sofa before your parents arrived"


The title of the song was unknown to me, but the culprit behind this was Lady Gaga. I let my mind drift to ponder this message given to me by Lady GaGa. The name alone made me think of a grown woman in diapers, looking for a non existent cat in the basement of an Alzheimer's Ward.


The words to this musical treat were some what alien to me, or French. "Poker Face", My mind drifts: I think of an Army of fluffy animals humping in tandem while Robin Hood plays the pan flute. There are party streamers everywhere, and a crowd of people standing about with the look of "why am I so turned on by this" on their face.  What the hell.


"(S)Hes got me like.."? Drifting further:Lesbians enter the thought process. But for some reason they are playing huge brass pipe organs along with the tune, dressed as nuns witch huge grins. How would one dance to this? Maybe the Truffle Shuffle or the Charleston could be called to action.


Lady's voice rises to a triumphant Ohhh ooohhh ooohhhh as if she was the voice from above, followed by "I'll get him hot, show him what I got" But all I can imagine during the triumphant Ohhh is a Mental image of Marlyin Manson farting into a megaphone:Ohhh


Before I could process any more of what I just had encountered, I unknowingly pull up to my destination, winded, confused.....and with ass cheeks so tightly clenched I could easily cut the tension wires on the Golden Gate Bridge. I pick myself up by my boot straps while carefully eyeballing my 6 o' clock.As I walk into the facility where I am due to address a group of students, I can't help but think...they have probably listened to this song as well, wide eyed and curious I blurt out "Poker Face", and everyone grins. I am now in a familiar path again, knowing others have listened to Lady GaGa and have drawn their own tasteful conclusions to her treats of music meyhem. All is well.

Uploaded 02/17/2010
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