Weekly Download No. 43

To Live’s To Fly by Townes Van Zandt.  Ok, this is the song I want you, loyal readers, to download/enjoy this week.  It’s one of the greatest country songs ever (hyperbole).  It’s haunting, beautiful.  Townes Van Zandt was genius.  Now he’s dead and it’s a shame.  But the song I’d like to discuss is The Perfect Girl by JB and the Moonshine Band.  Now I’ve offered you my thoughts on country music (an institution I once loved) in the past, praised it’s greatest practitioners, lamented it’s death, postulated regarding its current variations and told you straight up what I thought about Kenny Chesney (I believe the word was “pussy.”)  Suffice it to say, I loathe modern “country” music. I loathe the faux-country folk stereotypes it both creates and propagates.  I loathe the sound of it.  I loathe that there are bands named Rascal Flats and Lady Antebellum.  I want it to cease being.  Like polio, I want to eradicate it from the Earth, nothing less. I was fully adherent to these beliefs as Wednesday morning crept upon me.  I was struggling with an idea for this week as I set out to the western half of the state to complete some legal “errands” (I like to refer to these trips as “the wheels of justice” as in “the wheels of justice ran through Fairview this morning” but rest assured, very, very little justice is dispersed.). As I approached Clinton I was scanning radio stations in hopes of catching a Chuck Edwards’ sports report from the Weatherford radio station simply for the nostalgia (and if you’re not from there, you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about).  I didn’t find it.  But I did find whatever country-music-radio-station out of Elk City or Woodward or Altus and they played this f_cking song by JB and the Moonshine Band (even the f_cking name of the band makes me want to murder these guys. “Yeah, ya’ll sit ’round the still and sip on granpa’s white lightin’ and watch the kids catch june bugs in their bare feet.  I’ll pick us a tune.”  This will make the idiot rednecks want to buy it).  It is a virtual tour de force of everything I hate about country music.  It’s a revelation.  It’s one of the worst sounds my ears have ever been forced to process.  I give you The Perfect Girl, with lyrical commentary by yours truly.

Home alone the other night I got to drinkin’ and a thinkin’

Bout the women of this old world

(Drinking, thinking, women.  Already most of the prerequisites have been met)

Well I’ve known quite a few but between me and you

I ain’t never met the perfect girl

They either ain’t that fun, or way too young or they ain’t gotta lick of sense

I don’t know if she exists but I’m making up a list that I’m checkin em all against

(Here we go.  At this point I realize this song is going to be Joe-Diffee-John-Deere-Green level bad.)

Well she’s gotta be 5 foot 11, smells like heaven

(that would put PG in at least the 95th percentile for white (and who are we kidding) women.)

She was born in 86 or maybe 87 she got, full intentions of getting her Ph.D

(never mentions in which discipline 24 or maybe 23 year old PG intends to pursue her doctorate. I struggled with this myself. Guesses?)

She got some big ol boobies, a country fied booty

(……..jesus these things write themselves sometimes)

She’s a certified bonafide cold blooded cutie

(certified by a “certified” Nashville marketing firm, no doubt.)

If anybody knows where the perfect girl might be, won’t you tell her bout me…

(So if you know an abnormally tall, big-titted heaven smelling country-fied Phd candidate, please let her know there’s a lonely guy drunk on his porch fantasizing about her.)

I don’t mean to sound picky but relationships are tricky and I’m lookin for a perfect fit

(By this point in the song, I’m getting the sinking suspicion that JB’s perfect fit is sitting home and whipping tool to The Deadliest Catch or Ice Road Truckers)

I wanna smoking hot honey with a whole lotta money, whose favorite thing is sharing it

(And I guess he’s broke.)

Well u cant’ really miss her hell she may be your sister but whoever she might be

(I’d like to diagram this sentence like this was 10th grade English.)

You’d be a real life saver if you do me one favor and put in a good word for me

She’s gotta be 5 foot 11, smells like heaven, she measures 36-24-37

She got full intentions of financially supporting me

She got some big ol boobies, a country fied booty

And she don’t get mad when I watch dirty movies

(I hope your band flies on Lynyrd Skynyrd’s airplane.  I’m serious.)

If anybody knows where the perfect girl might be, won’t you tell her bout me

You can tell her that I’m all alone and to call me if she would

You can tell anything, as long as it’s all good

(And then the big finish.)

But she’s gotta be 5 foot 11, smells like heaven, let’s me do what I want to 24/7

(which is apparently (1) strum your own banjo thinking about your buddy’s sister; (2) spend PG’s money; (3) drink alone; and (4) write songs in broken English.)

She got, full intentions of letting me be me

And you know she got some real big boobies, a country fied booty

And she thinks cleanin house is a women’s duty


If anybody knows where the perfect girl might be

Won’t you tell her bout me

(Enjoy your Grammys you fucking fucks.)

Download Townes Van Zandt.  Enjoy.

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One Response to Weekly Download No. 43

  1. Monica says:

    I wanna smoking hot honey with a whole lotta money, whose favorite thing is sharing it

    (And I guess he’s broke.)

    There’s a song on the album is called “I’m broke” hehehe
    The song is kinda offensive to me, but funny and catchy, nonetheless.
    Visited the website and there are 2 songs i really like. Whiskey days and Glad that you’re mine. The rest may take a while to like.

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