Thursday, March 30, 2006

Do those teeth still match the wound?

I've discovered a new and alarming syndrome that seems to be directly related to Annoying Song Syndrome, or ASS, which I discussed earlier. (It's not really new, but I just thought of a nifty acronym for it, and so I shall pretend it is new so I can post about it.) It's called LIARS, which stands for Lyrics Inadvertently Are Replaced Syndrome, and it is equally as if not more contagious than ASS. It seems to manifest itself right along with ASS, much as Kaposi's Sarcoma oftentimes manifests itself in conjunction with AIDS.*

What happens is this: Sometimes, when I have an attack of ASS and the song continues to reverberate** around inside my skull, a small portion of my warped brain decides to try to replace the real lyrics to the annoying song with made-up lyrics that are germane to the situation, thus triggering an attack of LIARS. For example:

One of my nicknames for Nolan is Pooter Man. I don't know exactly why or how this nickname came to be, just that I have always called him that. So, naturally, he needed a Pooter Man theme song. I suppose I could try to write my own music for one, but I'm probably not that talented and besides, why bother when the Spider-Man theme song works so well? To wit:

Pooter Man, Pooter Man
Does the things
A Pooter can
Pooter Maaannn, Pooter Maaannn
Diapers in his diaper can

And that's as far as it goes. Here's another one:

When Nolan was a little tiny guy and was still solely breast-fed, he would occasionally have these giant bowel movements that would fill (and sometimes overflow) his diaper, necessitating an immediate bath and complete change of clothing. We took to calling these "monster poops." What better tune to sing whilst changing a frighteningly messy baby than that Halloween hit "The Monster Mash?"

He had a poop (It was a Monnnnster Poop)
A Monster Poop! (It threw his parents for a loop)
The Monster Poop! (His losses could not be recouped)
The Monster Poop! (They wished they had a pooper scoop)

The replacement lyrics rarely spring immediately to mind completely formed during the first attack of LIARS. But one of the characteristics of this debilitating syndrome is that each time the situation that triggered the initial attack reoccurs, the same song gets stuck in your head, and you can't help but mull over possible replacement lyrics each time. (It took a number of iterations before KB came up with the "recouped" line above.)

The only LIARS attack we ever experienced where all the lyrics came at once happened to KB shortly after we came home from the hospital with Nolan. He was in the other room holding the baby in the rocking chair, and I heard him sing (to the theme song from "Rawhide"):

Nolan Nolan Nolan
In the chair he's Nolan
Everywhere he's Nolan [last name]!

(I realize that doesn't work as well without telling you our last name, but I promised KB I wouldn't.)

Most of the songs I am afflicted with are in fact just short snippets of songs, the chorus mostly, because that's usually the catchiest part and the one that springs to mind most easily. But occasionally, after months of having the same song gouging a track through the hard drive of my brain, I will come up with an entire verse of substitute lyrics. This one is from pre-Nolan days, when our cats Jake and Lola were the center of our attention:

(To the tune of "Copacabana")

Her name is Lola
She is my kitty
She's got a very fuzzy head
And she sleeps upon the bed
She's got a brother
His name is Jake
His head is fuzzy too
and they both make a lot of poo
They site there, two felines
They think they're so sublime
They are so cute and they are so fuzzy
and they Are! My! Cats!
They're Jaaaake, they're Jake and Lola
The only word that rhymes with that is granola
They're Jaaaake, they're Jake and Lollllaaaa
Cu-ute and fuzzy and spastic and lovely
They're my caaaats
They are my cats.

Sad, isn't it? Think of all the mental energy wasted by this pernicious disease that could be better applied elsewhere. Once again, I hope that someone, somewhere, will discover a cure. Until then, I will continue to suffer in (non) silence.

Thanks for reading.

*Yes, I just compared my silly little made-up syndrome to AIDS. I'm so going to hell.

**If the word is re-verberate, what does it mean to verberate? Is that the first time the sound is made?


zachdb said...

Oy my gawd, you are going to hell. And thank goodness. I'll need the company.

zachdb said...


\Ver"ber*ate\, v. t. [L. verberatus, p. p. of verberare to beat, from verber a lash, a whip.] To beat; to strike. [Obs.] ``The sound . . . rebounds again and verberates the skies.'' --Mir. for Mag.

Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.

Electric Mayhem said...

Don't think you're the only one afflicted with this. My co-worker and I not only revert songs to reflect our love of our boss' dog, Spencer aka Chicken Fat Pug, but we too sing the Nolan song in the office.

Doopty doo, we're all dorks.

PS - It's a good thing you and KB found each other.