Fun with SongMeanings.

You have probably been to SongMeanings, a cool little website on which critically-thinking music listeners analyze songs by their favorite bands. Over the past couple of days, I’ve found a great deal of amusement from reading people’s keen interpretations of painfully obvious songs, as well as their gross over-analyses of shallow ones. Observe.

Scorpions – “Rock You Like A Hurricane”

i think this song is abt the band when they’re gonna perform/are performing.any other interpretations
by a_fake_plastic_tree

its about fuckin a chick. (so obvious) like “mr. no name” said they wake up in the morning after having sex. “feed her inches” means put your cock in her. fuck her so hard she feels like she was hit by a hurricane. “the wolf is hungry”, means the guy wants pussy. “love at first sting” means falling in love after the first time you had sex. and every other line has something to do with sex.
by MetallibangeR

i think song is about vampires/werewolves
by lilcrow

WOOO!!! I remember when this woz on the OC in the background ages ago in like the 2nd or 3rd season. Awesome song.
by JimBob

Twisted Sister – “We’re Not Gonna Take It”

this song is about the gov. telling us how to live, in an error where we are put last, as americans..it’s about long haired rockers taking whats rightfully ours, our own freedom and dignity.. and thats why the gov banned this song in the 80’s but now in 2003 as u may know the banned pact on this song revoked, cause there is way too much music to banned everything, ex: eminem
by CoNjOutsidersLsSm

I see this song as being about how we should be able to listen to whatever we want and not take crap from any1… but hey thats just my oppinion
by postulio

This song rocks no matter what it means. Personally I think of it as rebelling against the mold society has prepped for us before we were even born…”BUY THIS SHIT WEAR THIS SHIT DO THIS SHIT LISTEN TO THIS SHIT”. Society is turning us into robots, live how u wanna live not how others want u to live.
by ledz4evr77

Black Eyed Peas – “My Humps”

Does ‘all that junk inside your trunk’ refer to her ass or does it mean like when she sings the first verse all the stuff that the guys buy her inside her like car ‘trunk’. ‘Cause later in the song he says about all that ass inside those jeans so wouldn’t that be the same thing. Or am I being stupid lol
by chicken_wing

I don’t like this song. I think it makes the woman singin sound like a slut.
by matt55

My Humps is the WORST song ever written. It’s about demeaning women sexually.
by redwolf_2k

Linkin Park – “Crawling”

crawling is an awesome… its amazing how these words are so true… you want to change you want to walk a new path… but something is dragging you down… and its hard to overcome that… sometimes you do but you have the thought of falling again.. its cool cause these words are true.. everyone has something holding them back… maybe this isnt what the song means… but to me this is how i take it to mean… linkin park really is awesome though…
by artsymusic1

To me this song means that u cant figure out who u are so ur “crawling in ur skin”. It majorly defines my life because when ur really seaching for who u r (as all teens do at one point or another) everything just seems so fucked up and u confuse wut is real from wut is faked and its all a big confusing thing. And no matter how hard u try it seems like u just lose urself all over again (confusing….i cant seem to find myself again).
by famous

Alice Cooper – “School’s Out”

would it not be the greatest day ever if school really was out forever. I think its about being glad that schools out
by angeleyes07

Whatever, I think it’s funny.

18.

Today is my last day as a minor. It seems like an 18th birthday requires at least a certain amount of pre-planning. I mean, there has to be a lot of ways to take advantage of one’s adulthood, right? Allow me to brainstorm.

• Buy a slingshot. I wanted to get a slingshot a few years back, and was surprised to find that one had to be at least 18 to purchase one, at least at a Wal-Mart store. And, well, slingshots are pretty handy tools to have.
• Get a hotel room. Hey, I’m allowed to! I could totally go book a hotel room. And like, totally make a bunch of trips to the ice machine. Hang out at the swimming pool. Or watch HBO! Hell yeh!
• Buy pr0n. I’m not really much of a pornography guy. That said, I just might go out in search of a certain adult film entitled 1,001 Ways to Eat My Jizz, Part 3: Biscuits and Gravy Edition. No explanation required.
• Register to vote. It’s all of our responsibility.
• Buy some spraypaint. Or maybe some glue. Because I can.

Fuck. Conclusion: being an adult = being a minor plus a few small advantages, and much more accountability.

Bicycle.

I need a bicycle. I don’t need a bicycle, but I would like one. For college and such. If anybody around Kansas City is selling one (preferrably small, and sans gears), drop me a line or something.

Microsoft Bob.

Some recent conversation made me recall the first time I ever used a PC. It was a 133 mhz Gateway machine that my parents bought for somewhere around three grand. After my dad set it up, my brother and I sat down and played with perhaps the greatest program ever written: Microsoft Bob.

The idea was to create an accessible user-interface for Windows, and in that regard, it widely considered one of the biggest failures in the history of the home PC. The program gave the user a virtual house with several “rooms” he could populate with props which performed various functions, including launching an internal calendar, address book, word processor, and more. It also introduced the helpful little characters that later evolved into those irritating “Office Assistants.” My seven- or eight-year-old mind, though, really didn’t understand the purpose of the program, beyond the fact that you could place all these cool props and make your own room. And goddammit, it was cool.

Idea: resurrect Bob. Allow the users to create an advanced, 3-dimensional house and fill it with whatever objects they want, linking different functions with applications or the web.

Wait. That would be a complete failure.

Italienation.

I am one fourth Italian-blooded. And my surname is apparently synonymous with a well-known family in the local Italian community. Throughout my life, countless random people I have never met have approached me and inquired about my familial relations. I swear to Christ, everybody in this city with a drop of Italian blood knows my uncle Sam. Cool! It doesn’t bother me. But I feel like these people are judging me by some vague and illusory association drawn by something as insignificant as a shared last name. And I would be lying if I were to deny a subtle bit of guilt for not assimilating into an ethnic stereotype which I feel so many strangers expect me to fulfill. Sometimes I wonder if my extended family, or even my father, are disappointed in my estrangement from the culture that should be mine, I guess. Oh well!

False memories.

Had a conversation with a friend the other day. She is taking a trip to Disney World for the first time for her 18th birthday. She has never been to Disney World before, yet she distinctly remembers having done so.

I wonder how many kids think they’ve gone to Disney World but haven’t.

I went to Disney World in grade school. I think.

Racism.

My boss offered me the purest form at the origin of racism the other day at work. You see, we have a problem. And that problem is an awful odor which emits from our world class sink array in the back of the restaurant. My boss has a deep disdain for this smell. Wondering aloud about the origin of this dreadful stench, he mused (this is an approximation), “You know, now that I think about it, it started as soon as that Filipino place came into the strip mall. I don’t know what they’re doing down there.”

TV show.

I have this idea for a television program, and I think that, if realized, it would be one of the most wildly successful shows ever conceived.

The basic idea: every episode, a different team of leading experts in the security field lock an item within the most complex, novel security system they can devise. Half of each hour-long episode follows the team debating, planning, and constructing the challenge. Then, a team of experienced thieves, each with a unique area of expertise (acrobatics, lockpicking, hacking, DEMOLITIONS — this could even be the same people every episode), is assembled, and must organize a plan to beat the system and secure said item.

Basically, this embodies everything “It Takes A Thief” could have been but isn’t.

Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t watch this show religiously, because you would.

If you are an executive interested in creating this show, please see the “About Me” section for contact information.

School.

This, my senior year of high school, has found me more involved in school-related activities than I ever have been in my career in public education (except perhaps when I was a key member of New Mark Middle School’s Science Olympiad team). And by this, I mean I am in a whopping two clubs.

The one that occupies much of my time and energy is the school newspaper, which I involved myself in out of some obligation I felt, as I hope to pursue some sort of journalism-related career. Really, this was a huge mistake. The department is just absurd and annoying, consisting mostly of insecure kids who want to create some sort of “image” for themselves by publishing stupid editorials about stuff that annoys them, like girls spending too much time doing their hair or kids wearing band shirts. The clique in charge is a bunch of those dumb-but-a-really-good-student girls, who always brag about how much of an overachiever they are and how super organized they are. An idea with any real chance of controversy, or, you know, actual value to the world, is swiftly rejected. I have held myself at a certain distance from the organization out of a desire to preserve my spirit.

The other organization I am a member of is the newly formed INDEPENDENT MUSIC CLUB. It consists of the approximately ten to fifteen Oak Park students who could considered pseudo-indie sitting around and listening to/discussing pseudo-indie music. Overall, it’s a good time, but the whole thing is as self-conscious, awkward, and slightly fake as you would expect it to be. You know how it feels when somebody you’ve recently met asks you the big, “What kind of music do you listen to?” question? It’s like that times ten.

To conclude:

Northmen’s Log: 3/10

Music club: 8/10

Moment of clarity.

Today at work, I realized that this moderately old woman I work with is the most hopeless drug addict I know.

She drinks two 2-liters of Diet Coke® a day. And she is a pack (or two) a day smoker. And I don’t want to know how much she drinks. And she is probably going to die very, very soon. (My boss always has at least one old woman holding a very distinct position for him; some sort of loud-mouthed but lovable personality to run the front of the store and connect with our working-class regulars. He works them until they die. She is number three.)

It’s really interesting how a substance can become as integral to one’s bodily equilibrium as oxygen or water after decades of regular intake, and how several industries are indefinitely solidified in our culture solely because of this dependence. It’s a dangerous thing when a corporation can make people become sick when they cease to regularly purchase their product.  People turn into dangerously predictable buying machines.

The US is a society of the addicted. To caffeine, nicotine, gasoline, food, God, money, sex. And at the other end of each is a relatively small group of people getting rich.

So I guess I hope to never become a robot or a zero on somebody’s “projected profits” figure. I will never be a member of the ruling class — nor would I want to be — but I also will never be an insect in some CEO’s antfarm.