A few important things to know about me are that I’m extremely austere so, naturally, I think sarcasm is for the birds, I hate doing things I should do, and I’m 98 and ¾ percent certain that the world revolves around me. That being said, this blog will be an extension of the aforementioned characteristics.
This Christmas I received the most amazing present from my mom, and so I’ve decided to write an ode to this particular present, so without further adieu, I give you…
Ode to my Record Player (and my other strange interests)
Some say the greatest gift you can receive is love
That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of.
I want what I want; I don’t want what I need
I want zany, bizarre, some unheard of new breed.
Ok, a record player isn’t that weird,
Well it would be if it had a beard,
But I love it for so many reasons
It’s useful in all the 4 seasons
Eltilly I named him, you shall soon find out why,
He’s a formidable companion, one helluva guy
He sings to me when I get too bored,
As long as I remember to plug in his cord.
He has the voice of an angel, does Eltilly,
Sounds just like Rick or Elton or Billy.
Rick Springfield and Elton John that is,
And Billy Joel, the preferred artist of his.
So Eltilly, you say, and that is how come?
Elton and Billy, you see, is where it comes from.
He plays records of course, but, no that is not all
He plays CDs, MP3s even basketball!
Well not that last one, but t’would be sweet if he did
Though he does have a radio underneath the lid
Oh and one more thing, a tape deck
Don’t have tapes, but ah what the heck
It’s funny how the times are
Or at least how they’ve been in my life thus far
I have records, though tapes are much “newer”
Vinyl is older, one may think there’d be fewer.
But records are retro; they’re cool and back in
T’will be years before tapes are in again.
And I, unlike my friends, feel strongly about choice music
The junk my teammates listen to makes me feel sick
Pre-game pump-up Rack City? Not a fan
I’d rather listen to Billy sing The Piano Man
How about Hall & Oates, Rich Girl anyone?
Or perhaps the Beatles, Here Comes the Sun.
We could listen to Vienna, don’t change my song, Let it Be,
It might be pre-Mikaela, but It’s Still Rock and Roll to me!
Jesse’s Girl and Tiny Dancer are a few of the good twos
Levon is sad, but I guess that’s why they call it the blues
Long Cool Woman In a Black Dress is good during weights,
Or Danger Zone, A song Grace Mashore truly hates
In the shower, play me Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen,
I’m no Big Shot, but I have the voice of angels, not 1, 18!
And while I’m shooting? I Say a Little Prayer For You
Or Ain’t too Proud to Beg, that’s a good one, too.
I should stop with the rhymes now; I’m to the end of the page,
The take home: Some things (like music) get better with age
I realize now as I finish this poem, it’s less about the actual record player, and more about my fantastic taste in music. That’s how things go sometimes; they start out one way and end another way. Anyway, I like Dr. Seuss and I like rhyming, that’s why I wrote a poem. I’m thinking next year might have something to do with fashion (you know, cuz I’m an expert).
I know you are all immensely depressed because my blog is over, but as Dr. Seuss himself once said, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because happened.” Plus there will another one next year.
THE CARDINAL RULES!!!