Free Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs (Backlist eBook Program) by Dave Barry Page A

jitterbug
    Out in muskrat land...
    Had enough? I’m warning you, it’s going to get worse! I haven’t even mentioned Barry Manilow yet! Let alone Bobby Goldsboro! Turn back now, while you still have some, umm, some
     
    Floatin’ like the heavens above, looks like
    OH NO! I CAN’T STOP MYSELF! I CAN’T STOP
     
    Muskrat Loooooooove
    Too late.
     
    1 Montpelier.
    2 “I LOVE Bosco! That’s the drink for me! Momma puts it in my milk,” etc.
    3 “The Messiah” was a 1973 hit by Three Dog Night.

Introduction
    Why You Should Not Blame Me for This Book
     
     
    T his book, like so many of the unpleasant things that we encounter as we go through life, is Neil Diamond’s fault. Here’s what happened:
    One day back in 1992, I was doing what I am almost always doing, namely, trying to write a newspaper column despite the fact that I have nothing important, or even necessarily true, to say.
    In this particular column, I was complaining about the fact that they never play any good songs on the radio. When I say “good songs,” I of course mean “songs that I personally like.” For example, I happen to love “Twist and Shout” as performed by the Isley Brothers. As far as I am concerned, oldies-format radio stations should be required by federal law to play this song at least once per hour.
    But they hardly ever play it. Instead, they play “Love Child” as performed by Diana Ross and the Supremes, which is a song that you can listen to only so many times. And when I say “only so many times,” I mean “once.” And if they ever do play “Twist and Shout,” for some bizarre reason they play the Beatles’ version, which, according to mathematical calculations performed by powerful university computers, is only 1/10,000 as good as the Isley Brothers’ version.
    So anyway, in this column I was ranting about songs that I don’t particularly care for, and I happened to bring up Neil Diamond. I didn’t say I hate all Neil Diamond songs; I actually like some of them. 1 Here’s exactly what I wrote:
     
    It would not trouble me if the radio totally ceased playing ballad-style songs by Neil Diamond. I realize that many of you are huge Neil Diamond fans, so let me stress that, in matters of musical taste, everybody is entitled to an opinion, and yours is wrong. Consider the song “I Am, I Said,” wherein Neil, with great emotion, sings:
    I am, I said
    To no one there
    And no one heard at all
    Not even the chair.
    What kind of line is that? Is Neil telling us he’s surprised that the chair didn’t hear him? Maybe he expected the chair to say, “Whoa, I heard THAT.” My guess is that Neil was really desperate to come up with something to rhyme with “there,” and he had already rejected “So I ate a pear,” “Like Smokey the Bear,” and “There were nits in my hair.”
    So that was what I wrote: A restrained, fair, and totally unbiased analysis of this song. Who could possibly be offended?
    Well. You think Salman Rushdie got into trouble. It turns out that Neil Diamond has a great many serious fans out there, and virtually every one of them took the time to send me an extremely hostile, spittle-flecked letter. In a subsequent column, I combined the key elements of these letters into one all-purpose irate–Neil Diamond–fan letter, as follows:
    Dear Pukenose:
    Just who the hell do you think you are to blah blah a great artist like Neil blah more than twenty gold records blah blah how many gold records do YOU have, you scumsucking wad of blah I personally have attended 1,794 of Neil’s concerts blah blah What about “Love on the Rocks,” huh? What about “ Cracklin’ Rosie”? blah blah If you had ONE-TENTH of Neil’s talent blah blah so I listened to “Heart Light” forty times in a row and the next day the cyst was GONE and the doctor said he had never seen such a rapid blah blah What about “Play Me”? What about “Song Sung Blah”? Cancel my subscription, if I have one.
    The thing is, I got