Wow, this place is aggressive recently. Kucinich fans bashing Gravel, Gravel fans bashing Gravel, Obama fans bashing Edwards, OClintonwards fans bashing Edhillama, and Ron Paul fans getting troll rated.
Personally, at times like this, I think it's best for me to take a break from research into the anti-Samoan biases of Hillary Clinton during her privateering days in the South Seas (not to mention the anti-privateering biases of John Edwards from his Samoan days), and to find a less nasty way to get out my aggression. Sure, I like Candidate X & you like Candidate Y, and if my guy wins you're going to vote for Nader and if mine wins I'm going to vote for Mike Huckleberry or start a write-in campaign for Francois Mitterand's corpse.
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But, at the moment, at this pause in the fighting before we all just give in and kill each other (or, failing that, metaphorically internet-killing each other), how about we quote to each other some our favorite nasty song lyrics. Cutting, angry, sarcastic, embittered, underhanded, passive aggressive songs dedicated to girls, boys, wars, politicians, places, things, ideas, girls who were once boys and boys who were once politicians.
Before I get the ball rolling, I'll give away my personal bias: TOM VILSACK '08 4 EVA!!!!!!!!!
Why don't I start with one of the masters of the acid tongue: Robert "Bob Dylan" Zimmerman.
Positively 4th Street
You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning
You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning
You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it
You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it
I know the reason
That you talk behind my back
I used to be among the crowd
You're in with
Do you take me for such a fool
To think I'd make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don't know to begin with
You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, "How are you?" "Good luck"
But you don't mean it
When you know as well as me
You'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once
And scream it
No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them
And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem
I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you
If we're starting out on the "classic" tip, this Johnny Cash number always makes me remember a certain young woman from the ol' days and feel a bit better about it.
Cry, Cry, Cry
Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down.
I think you only live to see the lights of town.
I wasted my time when I would try, try, try.
When the lights have lost their glow, you're gonna cry, cry, cry.
I lie awake at night and wait 'til you come in.
You stay a little while and then you're gone again.
Every question that I ask, I get a lie, lie, lie.
For every lie you tell, you're gonna cry, cry, cry.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll cry alone,
When everyone's forgotten and you're left on your own.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry.
Soon your sugar-daddies will all be gone.
You'll wake up some cold day and find you're alone.
You'll call to me but I'm gonna tell you: "Bye, bye, bye,"
When I turn around and walk away, you'll cry, cry, cry,
When your fickle little love gets old, no one will care for you.
You'll come back to me for a little love that's true.
I'll tell you no and you gonna ask me why, why, why?
When I remind you of all of this, you'll cry, cry, cry.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll cry alone,
When everyone's forgotten and you're left on your own.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll want me there,
It'll hurt when you think of the fool you've been.
You're gonna cry, cry, cry.
Certainly less well known, and with a heavy conscious debt to the classic "Mississippi Goddamn" comes this song by Toronto's The Hidden Cameras, about growing up gay in suburban Canada. You certainly don't need to be gay to have had experiences to make you feel this way about your hometown, or any town. This is just a snippet.
Mississauga Goddamn
there's the treachery of mine own man
I'll be wearing my disguise
until I rid my life
of Mississauga Goddamn
Mississauga people
carry the weight of common evil
and go about their lives
with a whisper and a whine
about Mississauga Goddamn
Mississauga skyline
filled with the shadows of the power lines
with the garbage in refuge
we'll build a mountain to the moon
on top of Mississauga Goddamn
Here's a truly wonderful song by The Mountain Goats detailing the end of a long-flatlined relationship.
No Children
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
And I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Why not a little bit of the Ramones? This one's dedicated to Ronald Reagan. I'm not a huge fan of "late" Ramones, but this song was one of their best. Written when St. Ronnie visited the graves of SS soldiers in Germany (thanks for the idea, Pat Buchanan!)
My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down (Bonzo Goes to Bitburg)
You got to pick up the pieces
Come on, sort your trash
Better pull yourself back together
Maybe you've got too much cash
Better call, call the law
When you gonna turn yourself in, yeah
You're a politician
Don't become one of Hitler's children
Bonzo goes to Bitburg
Then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV
Somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town
For an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down
I need something to slow me down
Ooh yeah, my brain is hanging upside down
And I need something to slow me down
Shouldn't wish you happiness
Wish her the very best
Fifty thousand dollar dress
Shaking hands with your highness
See through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain
But you do it anyway
Who am I, am I to say
Bonzo goes to Bitburg
Then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV
Somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town
For an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down
I need something to slow me down
Ooh yeah, My brain is hanging upside down
And I need something to slow me down
If there's one thing that makes me sick
It's when someone tries to hide behind politics
I wish that time could go by fast
Somehow they manage to make it last
My brain is hanging upside down
I need something to slow me down
Ooh yeah, My brain is hanging upside down
And I need something to slow me down
Ooh yeah, My brain is hanging upside down
And I need something to slow me down
That's all for the diary section.
Please feel free to add some of your own. Take out those hateful feelings musically instead of reminding me that you think you might have seen Barack Obama making an after dinner cocktail out of orphans the other day.
I'll add some more in the comments section if other people are into it.