Category Archives: Lyrics

Pop Goes The Squirrel!

Hammy has been driving Verne crazy again over the hedge. Dark Verne is creeping back to the surface. And I bet this is what’s playing in his head right now …

RJ played guitar, Hammy played bass.
Name of the band is Over the Hedge.
Everybody tell me have you heard?
Pop goes the squirrel.

RJ played keyboard, Hammy played drums.
It drives Verne crazy and when the time comes.
Everybody tell me have you heard?
Pop Goes The squirrel.

It goes something like this: (p p p pop)

RJ and Hammy had a crazy dream.
See their pictures in a magazine.
Every wild critter needs a twirl.
Pop goes the squirrel.

RJ and Hammy getting smart (it seems).
Made more money on a movie screen.
Every little nest needs a bird.
Pop goes the squirrel.

One two three and four is five.
Dark Verne is plotting poor Hammy’s demise.
Mentos and coke and Microwave on high.
Pop goes the squirrel.

Six seven eight and nine is ten.
Make sure it works with nitroglycerin.
Say what planet are we on? The third!
Pop Goes The squirrel.

And Every time Verne wonders where the world went wrong,
Ends up lying on his face going ringy dingy ding dong.

And every time Verne wonders if the world is right,
Ends up across the cosmos in black arachnid’s night.

RJ played guitar, Hammy played bass.
Name of the band is Over the Hedge.
Everybody tell me have you heard?
Pop goes the squirrel.

RJ played keyboard, Hammy played drums.
At least until Verne with dynamite comes.
Everybody tell me have you heard?
Pop Goes The squirrel.

I Write Alone

I write alone, yeah
with nobody else
I write alone, yeah
with nobody else
You know when I write alone
I prefer to be by myself

Every morning just before breakfast
I don’t want no bad company
Just me and good buddy lonesome
That’s all I ever need
‘Cause I write alone, yeah
with nobody else
You know when I write alone
I prefer to be by myself

The other night I laid sleeping
And I woke up with inspiration
So I fired up my trusty Macbook
And I turned off dication
And I wrote alone, yeah
with nobody else
You know when I write alone
I prefer to be by myself

The other day I got invited to a circle
But I stayed offline instead
Just me and my trusty text edit
Spinning up a brand new thread
And I wrote alone, yeah
with nobody else
You know when I write alone
I prefer to be by myself

My fellow bloggers done give up on me
But I don’t feel inadequate
That the only ones hanging out with me
Are my dear old LOLCats
And we write alone, yeah
with nobody else
You know when I write alone
I prefer to be by myself

 

I am the Twitter!

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like fish from a whale, see the bird fly.
I’m crying.

Sitting on a hashtag, waiting for the tweet to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your tweet grow long.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Mister celebrity ranting,
Pretty little celebrities in a row.
See the tweets fly like texts from a teen, see how they stream.
I’m crying, I’m crying.
I’m crying, I’m crying.

Random insane drivel, dripping from a newbie’s feed.
A desperate housewife, pornographic priestess,
Now you been a naughty girl you let your secrets out.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Standing in an airport Starbucks … waiting for the brew.
If the brew runs out, you get your fix
From candybars at the news stand.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Expert textpert channel blasters,
Don’t you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like whales in the sky,
See how they snied.
I’m crying.

Internet Spinal Tap, cranking up the dial to eleven.
Gary William Brolsma syncing Numa Numa.
Man, you have to see them kicking that Mark Zuckerberg.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.
goo goo g’joob goo goo g’joob.
Goo goo g’joob goo

If you’re not following the doctor on Twitter, what aren’t you missing?

Purchasing Blues

Editor’s Note: This is a repost of “Purchasing Blues“, which was originally posted on June 20, 2009.

Well, it’s time to raise a fuss
  and it’s time to raise a holler
About diminishing returns
  from the corporate dollar
I just heard from my boss
  who governs me
If I don’t save the cash
  he’s gonna fire me

Sometimes I wonder
What I’m gonna do
If there ain’t no cure
For the purchasing blues

My CFO he told me to
  go beat on the supplier
That his margins must be high
  while ours are under water
So I talked to the supplier
  he said costs were elevated
He was losing all his money
  at the rates we had created

Sometimes I wonder
What I’m gonna do
If there ain’t no cure
For the purchasing blues

So I found a consultant
  told her about my problems
And she went and discovered that
  the supplier was just stalling
Material costs were falling
  and the exchange rate was fair
I had wasted all my time
  just pulling out all my hair

Next time I have a problem
  I’ll find me a solution
I’ll find a sourcing expert
  and get my retribution

It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It

It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It
It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It
It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It
And I feel fine

That’s great, it starts with a web-shake, noobs and trolls,
get terrified – the doctor is not afraid.
Eye of a hurricane, listen to the web churn,
bloggers serve their own needs, dummy serve your own needs.
Feed it off an aux speak, grunt, no, strength,
The ladder starts to clatter with fear fight down height.
Wire in a fire, representing seven games, entrepreneurs for hire and a lagging site.
Left of west and coming in a hurry with the furries breathing down your neck.
Team by team reporters baffled, trumped, tethered cropped.
Look at that low playing!
Fine, then.
Uh oh, overflow, population, common news, but it’ll do.
Save yourself, serve yourself.
Web serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed
  dummy with the rapture and the revered and the right – right.
You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It
It’s The End of TechCrunch As We Know It
And I feel fine

Last Friday, TechCrunch ran a post that asked Where the Hell Are All the Rants? that noted that ever since some of its most prolific writers left the blog game to either a) become entrepreneurs or b) become investors, the tech blogosphere has been quiet — too quiet. And by quiet I mean so noisy that it’s difficult for anything of any substance (or signal) to come through. And the doctor agrees. Lately, he’s been reading TechCrunch less and less. Heck, this week it was almost indistinguishable from TUAW with all the me-too Apple coverage. I have to say I miss the TechCrunch of old where the bloggers asked How the Hell is This My Fault because not only did those posts have substance, they had character. You can find bland coverage on any old site. But you can’t find deep thought, real opinions, and the willingness to call out the elephant in the room and call a duck a duck (when it looks, walks, and quacks like a duck) on any old site.

To cut to the chase, no rants, no real opinions and willingness to make them known. No real opinions and willingness to make them known, no individuality. No individuality, no point. And that’s why it just may be the end of TechCrunch as we know it.