Here’s where I lose what little cred I have…

Let’s talk music. As my official title of “Up-and-Coming Horror Writer” dictates, in today’s market, that I’m supposed to love metal. I’m supposed to love it more than I love french fries, porn, and puppies. It’s in the Union by-laws.

Thing is, my taste in music is a little more skewed than that. My musical tastes were instilled on me early in childhood by a mother who loved Barry Manilow and Elton John, and a father who loved Elvis and The Beach Boys. In turn, I grew up loving songs that were over the top and contained incredible pop hooks. It explains my power-pop love of Superdrag, Schatzi, Weezer, and Jimmy Eat World; my pop-punk love of Green Day, Cruiserweight, and Motion City Soundtrack. There’s my nostalgia-fueled love of artists who tend to avoid respect, like The Monkees and Meat Loaf. Even my credible music sources are swathed in pop overtones, like Supertramp and Fleetwood Mac.

See? I’m really hopeless.

Perfect example… The best love song of all time is, in my opinion, Janet Jackson’s “Love Will Never Do Without You.” You just can’t get better than that. I performed the song by myself for my best friend’s wedding.

Still, I’m not sure I should drop this latest bombshell.

Really, it’s that bad.




I fucking LOVE Jessica Simpson’s new song!

I can hear the crickets now.

That other sound is Shawna kicking me in my bits and pieces.

Right, so Jessica is sort of the Anti-Christ of pop music. She’s almost completely without talent (at least, any talent I can see). She too blond and too pretty for my taste, and she’s not even dumb in that entertaining Britnet Spears sort of way. She’s just dumb.

But goddamn that song rules.

“A Public Affair” is, at its most basic, a rip off of “Ain’t No Mountains High Enough.” Same hook, just a different melody. Hell, it even rips off the ending refrain. Shit, it worked for Puff Daddy (I refuse to call him P Diddy. My man is Puff Daddy!), so why can’t it work for Jessica. Whoever wrote this song, was a genius at pop manipulation, putting just enough drums and guitars behind an infectious pop hook (and I Do mean “infectious.” The fucker’s like bird flu!). From the beginning to the end, this is a song that makes my white, lame ass want to shake!

Y’know, I wouldn’t be nearly as ashamed if Kelly Clarkson had recorded this song.

So, yeah. Bye credibility and respectability. Oliveri’s gonna write me to laugh at me. Keene’s gonna pull the FEAR rights. Shrews and McBride are gonna pull our projects. My mom’s gonna call me an immasculated little pussy, and Shawna’s gonna leave me, taking the dogs I’ve finally grown to love.

And you know what? I can deal. Why?


All the girls come out for a public affair!
All night, let’s rock, ’cause the party don’t stop!