When Anna-Nicole Smith died, I was on hold on a business phonecall, and the waiting muzak was Janis Ian's 1975 tearjerker "At 17." Meanwhile, on the homepage of my PC was the headline "Anna-Nicole dead at 39." And a little switch somewhere in my cerebellum went click. Here are the results of that cultural collision -- and, unlike Anna, they ain't pretty.

At 39 (Anna-Nicole’s Lament)

by Alexander of Hollywood™ (with apologies to Janis Ian)

I bit the dust at thirty-nine
'Cause life’s no fun when past your prime
For Centerfolds with clear-skinned smiles
Who marry rich but don’t retire
The Valentines I’ll never send
The blender drinks I’ll never blend
The laundered loans I'll never lend
At Thirty-Nine, Kaput, The End.

And those of us with Botox’d faces
Lacking in all social graces
Could never stand to stay at home
Avoiding fans with cameraphones
Who call to say “Pole-dance for me!
I’ll pay cash for obscenity!”
Take that girl, spill that wine
At Thirty-Nine.

That blond “Guess?” gal in Size 16 gowns
Whose name was easy to pronounce
Said, “Pity those who pose and strip
We only do it for the tips”
She married the wrong Howard Stern
Kept her ex’s ashes in an urn
The promise of more litigation
And more teenage masturbation.

Remember those who cheat the game
Can lose the life they sought to gain
On shows they call “Reality”
Starring dubious celebrities
Their cameras’ eyes will gape at you
Your see-through dress they will see through
Assuring you, “You still look fine…
I mean... for thirty-nine!”

To those of us who knew the pain
Of A-list roles that never came
And those whose names were only called
When comparing silicone basketballs
It was long ago and far away
The media was younger than today
And dreams were all it gave for free
To air-head air-brushed bims like me.
So mix booze and pills and when you dare
Bamboozle a senile Billionaire
Avoid the stalkers on your phone
Mourn your dead son’s life unknown
Anna used to lumber like a tortoise
Now she slumbers, rigor mortis
Dying on the vine
At Thirty-Nine. 

click here to read the original "At 17", or go back to top

(I’ve Looked at Drugs from) Both Sides Now

by Alexander of Hollywood™ (with apologies to Joni Mitchell)

Trails and tails and feeling numb, think you’re profound, you just sound dumb
Your favorite song tastes like a thumb, I've looked at acid that way
But now it's just another trip, you drop your tab, try not to flip
And don’t forget it’s not that hip; don't throw your mind away
I've looked at acid from both sides now
From “Wow!” to “Yikes!” and still somehow
It's ‘cid's illusions I recall
I really don't know ‘cid  at all

Scabs and stabs and skanky chicks; hyper hearts but flaccid dicks
Tweakers are some scary hicks! I’ve looked at meth that way
Now I switch from snort to shoot (or snort to smoke, the point is moot)
Gone are my looks, as is my loot, speed stole my youth away
I've looked at crank from both sides now
From nerves to pervs and still somehow
It's speed's illusions I recall
I really don't know speed at all

Needles, spoons and nodding off, welfare from the public trough
Tying up then floating off, I've looked at junk that way
But now it only pricks my skin, it makes me dull and way too thin
So many bands I could be in, but smack got in my way
I've looked at “H” from both sides now
From Burroughs to Cobain and still somehow
It's junk's illusions I recall
I really don't know junk at all

Thrills and pills and bellyaches, psychotropic ice-cream cakes
Deals and steals and brownie-bakes, I've looked at drugs that way
But now they only blunt the pain, I don’t get high, I just maintain
Brain cells are lost, but something’s gained, in drugging every day
I've looked at drugs from both sides now
Within, without, and still somehow
It's drugs' illusions I recall
I really don't know drugs at all

click here to read the original "Both Sides Now (1967)", or go back to top

Drama Queen

by "Weird Al" Patterson (with apologies to Agnetha, Bjorn, Benny, and Anni-Frid, whom I'm sure are all very nice middle-aged Swedish people, and don't deserve this sort of abuse.)

You can shreik, you can sigh
Having a cow is your life
Watch that girl whine and scream
She's called a Drama Queen

Friday night and her mood is low
Foe seems friend and friend seems foe
Although it's not damaged she'll wrap her arm in a sling
(It's, like, a sympathy thing)

Anybody might be her victim
He thinks he picked her -- but she tricked him
Add a touch of fake trauma, and maybe snort a line
You go into your trance

And given half the chance
You'll play the Drama Queen, 34 going on 17
Drama Queen, up and down like a trampoline, oh yeah!

You cause pain, you spread strife
Where have you been all your life?
Avoid that broad, she's obscene
Don't date the Drama Queen

You're a psycho, you say you love them
You tongue-kiss them, then you shove them
Then it's on to your next prey -- or maybe two this time?
Now she says she's from France

And with her need to prance
You're a damn Drama Queen, you trade your meds for some Ketamine
Drama Queen, she'll douse your clothes with some gasoline, oh yeah!

You hate yourself, you wanna die
Your life is just one huge lie
Dump that bitch, let her scream
She's just a Drama Queen.

click here to read the original "Dancin' Queen", or go back to top

Jesus B. Christ

Way back before Ipods or designer jeans
Way back up in the hills among the Nazarenes
There stood a humble manger full of hay and lice
Where lived a country boy name of Jesus B. Christ
Now Jesus never learned to read or write so well
But to walk in His tracks could keep a sinner from Hell

[CHORUS]
Go Go
Go Jesus Go
Go Go
Jesus B. Christ

A carpenter who started having dreams divine
He fed the five thousand, turned water to wine
Oh, his disciples used to see him sitting in the shade
Devoted to the dogma that them Jew-boys made
People passing by would stop and say
Oh my that little country Hebe could pray!

Go Go
Go Jesus Go
Go Go
Jesus B. Christ

Mother Mary told him someday he’d be a man
And he would be the leader of a religion grand
Many people coming from miles around
To hear Jesus preach the scriptures when the sun go down
Maybe someday his name would be in lights
Saying Jesus B. Christ tonight!

Go Go
Go Jesus Go
Go Go
Jesus B. Christ!

click here to read the original "Johnny B. Goode", or go back to top