Rating Songs: Avoiding The Proctologist
It’s time I saved some lives.
I’ve developed a safer way to rate songs. I’m discussing your time of departure, when you kick the bucket, the time you’ll be pushing up daisies. When I say “safer” in this context, I do not mean “without as much error.” I mean pushing back your appointment with the mortician.
Someone started a system long ago rating songs as classical, C/W, pop or rock or easy listening, etc. That’s useless. No funeral homes ever get business due to Beethoven’s ability to compose versus The Beatle’s ability to invade foreign countries.
What this country needs is for the music industry to follow the same rules that have been placed on a zillion other products. That’s right - warning labels. We don’t need the stupid labels like the one on clothing irons that says, “Do not iron clothes while they are being worn.”
My favorite recent stupid label was on a box of lasagna my young niece and I were heating and the instructions said - she is my witness that I am not exaggerating - “Do not touch the foil cover when pan is removed from the oven as it may be hot.”
Instead, we need sensible labels that save lives.
I realize in our day and age when so many bow down and worship their TV that most people listen to the radio in one place - their automobile. With my plan, I figure to save a zillion or so lives every year. Just in this county.
What causes people to have fatal wrecks? You’ve probably seen that chain email about the lady in the convertible that jumped out of the moving car. She thought a guy on the side of the road was Jesus and some helium-filled inflatable human dolls he was holding were floating away. She thought it was the rapture, thus killing herself when the real Jesus did not spirit her upwards but allowed gravity and physics to do their work and the fatal wreck that followed was from non-rapture drivers who tried to avoid adding their chrome bumper to the battering the pavement was already giving her. This made news because it was an exception, however, and most fatal wrecks are not caused by helium.
No, what kills most people in autos is their inability to see.
My plan eliminates the immediate deluge of tears in the eyes of drivers when a song that is obviously too sad for humans to endure comes over the speakers at an inopportune time - namely when one is at the wheel of a couple of tons of steel heading down the road with the cruise on 70 mph.
Vision tends to be important at such times, hence the invention of the windshield defroster button, but radio stations are not doing their part. Where are the warning labels?
You might wonder why this topic was on my mind as I was heading out of town to preach for a little church last Sunday morning. Or, you might wonder why the President of Liberia just resigned. I’ll answer the first, and the second might have been for the same reason.
Some new artist has a song climbing the charts called “The Streets of Heaven” or something close to that. It starts off innocently enough with visiting hours being over and a dying child lying between her parents, and then proceeds to go way over the edge by asking questions such as who is going to hold her hand when she crosses the streets of Heaven?
Oh my. Maybe Liberia’s President heard it and got too depressed to do his job.
(By the way, I honestly do not know the name of the lady who sings the song. If I did I would include it so you could verify these lyrics and because I like to give credit where credit is due.)
Now I’m an experienced uncle and learned long ago to keep tissues/napkins all over the truck for kids who need to wipe their hands/nose/ears/etc. Luckily, some of these napkins were handy as I found myself bawling my eyes out while I was - you got it! - driving a couple of tons of steel with the cruise on 70 mph. I couldn’t see the windshield, much less through it and which lane am I supposed to be in anyway? Boy, I hope that bump was a pothole and not a dog . . .
Which brings me back to the point. The DJs could easily have said, “Attention all operators of vehicles weighing more than five pounds who are using cruise controls at high speeds: We are about to play a song which will make your eyes spew like the last toilet you tried to work on before you had to call the plumber and get the mop. Pull over immediately or change the channel to our competition for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds and then turn the dial back to us. We trust you.”
See? Sensible warning labels. But no, they didn’t do that.
It’s time, America!
Here are some samples of warning labels for a few random sad songs out of the past.
“Teddy Bear” by Red Sovine: “Attention all operators of vehicles that have ever seen a truck: We are about to play a song which will make you slap your grandma, kiss all the truckers at the next truck stop regardless of your gender, and make you crave CB lingo. Do not listen for the next four minutes and sixteen seconds. Instead, get the tire tool out and beat yourself on the shin several times.”
“Me and Little Andy” by Dolly Parton: “Attention all human beings who know what a child is: We are about to play a song which will make you give your retirement fund to the local foster parent association and make you cry like a fire hose whenever you hear Mother Goose. Do not listen to this station for the rest of the day. Instead, find a chalkboard and scrape your nails on it for an hour.”
“How Can I Help You To Say ‘Goodbye?’” by Patti Loveless (I think that’s her name): “Attention anyone who has ever had a mother: We are about to play a song which will cause you to regard Hallmark as a national monument. Do not listen to the radio for the rest of your life as there is a chance you might hear this song somewhere on a station that does not use warning labels. Instead, wad a piece of foil into a ball and chew on it for 30 minutes with all of your teeth that have fillings.”
And topping the list is “Where Have You Been?” by Kathy Mattea (I hope I spelled her name correctly). I heard this jewel for the first time in 1989 and had to pull the company truck over on the shoulder for several minutes before I could continue driving safely. “Hey you: Yes, we mean you! We are about to play a song which will cause paramedics to have to hit you with the paddles because your heart is gonna stop and then relocate into your esophagus. Take the radio out of your dash and let the neighborhood kids use it as first base. Instead of listening, schedule a visit with the proctologist who can palm a basketball.”
If radio will follow my lead, the next life I save could be yours. My plan was just too late to keep the President of Liberia in office ...
I’ve developed a safer way to rate songs. I’m discussing your time of departure, when you kick the bucket, the time you’ll be pushing up daisies. When I say “safer” in this context, I do not mean “without as much error.” I mean pushing back your appointment with the mortician.
Someone started a system long ago rating songs as classical, C/W, pop or rock or easy listening, etc. That’s useless. No funeral homes ever get business due to Beethoven’s ability to compose versus The Beatle’s ability to invade foreign countries.
What this country needs is for the music industry to follow the same rules that have been placed on a zillion other products. That’s right - warning labels. We don’t need the stupid labels like the one on clothing irons that says, “Do not iron clothes while they are being worn.”
My favorite recent stupid label was on a box of lasagna my young niece and I were heating and the instructions said - she is my witness that I am not exaggerating - “Do not touch the foil cover when pan is removed from the oven as it may be hot.”
Instead, we need sensible labels that save lives.
I realize in our day and age when so many bow down and worship their TV that most people listen to the radio in one place - their automobile. With my plan, I figure to save a zillion or so lives every year. Just in this county.
What causes people to have fatal wrecks? You’ve probably seen that chain email about the lady in the convertible that jumped out of the moving car. She thought a guy on the side of the road was Jesus and some helium-filled inflatable human dolls he was holding were floating away. She thought it was the rapture, thus killing herself when the real Jesus did not spirit her upwards but allowed gravity and physics to do their work and the fatal wreck that followed was from non-rapture drivers who tried to avoid adding their chrome bumper to the battering the pavement was already giving her. This made news because it was an exception, however, and most fatal wrecks are not caused by helium.
No, what kills most people in autos is their inability to see.
My plan eliminates the immediate deluge of tears in the eyes of drivers when a song that is obviously too sad for humans to endure comes over the speakers at an inopportune time - namely when one is at the wheel of a couple of tons of steel heading down the road with the cruise on 70 mph.
Vision tends to be important at such times, hence the invention of the windshield defroster button, but radio stations are not doing their part. Where are the warning labels?
You might wonder why this topic was on my mind as I was heading out of town to preach for a little church last Sunday morning. Or, you might wonder why the President of Liberia just resigned. I’ll answer the first, and the second might have been for the same reason.
Some new artist has a song climbing the charts called “The Streets of Heaven” or something close to that. It starts off innocently enough with visiting hours being over and a dying child lying between her parents, and then proceeds to go way over the edge by asking questions such as who is going to hold her hand when she crosses the streets of Heaven?
Oh my. Maybe Liberia’s President heard it and got too depressed to do his job.
(By the way, I honestly do not know the name of the lady who sings the song. If I did I would include it so you could verify these lyrics and because I like to give credit where credit is due.)
Now I’m an experienced uncle and learned long ago to keep tissues/napkins all over the truck for kids who need to wipe their hands/nose/ears/etc. Luckily, some of these napkins were handy as I found myself bawling my eyes out while I was - you got it! - driving a couple of tons of steel with the cruise on 70 mph. I couldn’t see the windshield, much less through it and which lane am I supposed to be in anyway? Boy, I hope that bump was a pothole and not a dog . . .
Which brings me back to the point. The DJs could easily have said, “Attention all operators of vehicles weighing more than five pounds who are using cruise controls at high speeds: We are about to play a song which will make your eyes spew like the last toilet you tried to work on before you had to call the plumber and get the mop. Pull over immediately or change the channel to our competition for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds and then turn the dial back to us. We trust you.”
See? Sensible warning labels. But no, they didn’t do that.
It’s time, America!
Here are some samples of warning labels for a few random sad songs out of the past.
“Teddy Bear” by Red Sovine: “Attention all operators of vehicles that have ever seen a truck: We are about to play a song which will make you slap your grandma, kiss all the truckers at the next truck stop regardless of your gender, and make you crave CB lingo. Do not listen for the next four minutes and sixteen seconds. Instead, get the tire tool out and beat yourself on the shin several times.”
“Me and Little Andy” by Dolly Parton: “Attention all human beings who know what a child is: We are about to play a song which will make you give your retirement fund to the local foster parent association and make you cry like a fire hose whenever you hear Mother Goose. Do not listen to this station for the rest of the day. Instead, find a chalkboard and scrape your nails on it for an hour.”
“How Can I Help You To Say ‘Goodbye?’” by Patti Loveless (I think that’s her name): “Attention anyone who has ever had a mother: We are about to play a song which will cause you to regard Hallmark as a national monument. Do not listen to the radio for the rest of your life as there is a chance you might hear this song somewhere on a station that does not use warning labels. Instead, wad a piece of foil into a ball and chew on it for 30 minutes with all of your teeth that have fillings.”
And topping the list is “Where Have You Been?” by Kathy Mattea (I hope I spelled her name correctly). I heard this jewel for the first time in 1989 and had to pull the company truck over on the shoulder for several minutes before I could continue driving safely. “Hey you: Yes, we mean you! We are about to play a song which will cause paramedics to have to hit you with the paddles because your heart is gonna stop and then relocate into your esophagus. Take the radio out of your dash and let the neighborhood kids use it as first base. Instead of listening, schedule a visit with the proctologist who can palm a basketball.”
If radio will follow my lead, the next life I save could be yours. My plan was just too late to keep the President of Liberia in office ...