Showing posts with label Pop Culture Referance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop Culture Referance. Show all posts

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Weekly Prompt Story: Monkey

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/12/09/weekly-challenge-346-monkey/


How to Increase Your Enjoyment of Popular Music
By Christopher Munroe

Every song improves when you replace the word “Money” with the word “Monkeys” in the lyric.

Monkeys don’t get everything, it’s true. But what they don’t get I can’t use, I want monkeys.

Or:

She works hard for the monkeys, so hard for them, honey, she works hard for the monkeys so you better treat her right.

I’ve just ruined countless songs for you, but you see my point.

Oh! Except for “Shock the Monkey” by Peter Gabriel. That one’s already about a monkey.

For that one, replace “Monkey” with “Munsi.” You’ll find the result shocking.

As, apparently, will I.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Weekly Prompt Story: Bangs

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/07/29/weekly-challenge-327-feather/


Bangs
By Christopher Munroe

His bangs feather like the wings of some majestic bird, even at forty-five.

The hair’s thinner now, but the bangs haven’t changed.

He’s gone to this pub since nineteen, since his last hit, though he didn’t know it’d be his last at the time. People here leave him alone.

Mostly.

She, nearly forty herself, works up the courage to approach. She’s been trying all night.

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you?”

“Why yes, I am.”

She blushes, fourteen again, and he smiles that same smile from years before.

And taking her home later, he can’t help thinking: Life isn’t so bad.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

An Account of the Brief Time I Lived in a John Cougar Mellencamp Song


It wasn’t a large town, but it was a beautiful one, in its way.

Picturesque, charming. The sort of town where everybody knew everybody, and everybody had a smile for you whenever you needed one. The people were friendly, the view of the lake from the porch of the house where I was living was amazing, it seemed the perfect place to settle down and finally start a family.

And yet…

Beneath the surface, everything seemed… spent, somehow. Hollow. Like the town’s best days were behind it.

Everyone was friendly, true, but there was a sadness lurking as they went through their lives. They spoke often of their personal glories of days past, but nobody ever seemed to do anything in the now.

Imperceptibly, something was off about every single person I met there. They wanted something, something they couldn’t quite put their finger on, and until they had it they somehow knew they wouldn’t be complete. Couldn’t be complete.

And to make matters worse, nobody seemed able to properly articulate what it was they lacked. So they moved through their days, charming, smiling, lost, knowing they were lost, not knowing why, and as I watched them do so I knew I couldn’t stay.

I couldn’t live among these people, their sadness was too contagious. I found myself wondering more and more what might have been had my own life gone differently, had I made different choices. Too often, I would find myself fondly remembering my own youth as I sat at the counter of the town’s local diner, not often enough would I be actually doing the things that make life living out there in the world.

There’s a lot to make life living, if you’re willing to look for it. A million marvels just outside your door, waiting to be discovered. I’d made that notion the centerpiece of my life, and my new home was slowly causing me to forget it.

Which was unacceptable. So I had to go, and never look back.

And that’s why I moved away from the John Cougar Mellencamp song, and lived in a Journey song instead. The small town there was exactly the same, except that people still dreamed big…

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Weekly Prompt Story: How to Respect a Woman

Odd story this week, by which I mean "one that really has to be read out loud to work in context." Even if you don't normally listen to the 100 Words Weekly Challenge, and are content to merely read my story on this blog, I strongly recommend that you make an exception. Here's the link...

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/07/22/weekly-challenge-326-power/

...and for those of you who absolutely insist on merely reading the text, here it is.


How To Respect a Woman
By Chris Munroe

To love a woman, you must first learn how to properly respect a woman.

And to respect a woman, you must first connect with her.

Connect through eye contact, or physically. Touch her arm as you speak, brush hair out of her eyes. That’s a very real source of connection.

Connect intellectually. Ask her questions about herself, get to know everything about her.

But most importantly, connect on a deep, spiritual level. Like so…

I wanna know what love is, and I want you to show me!

I wanna feel what love is, and I know you can show me!

Friday, July 13, 2012

Teenaged Nightmare


Taken from the reviews section of Music Maven Magazine, October 2015 issue.

Katy Perry
….another thing.
3 stars out of 5.

When Katy Perry became the mortal host for the spirit of Gaia, absorbing the power of the breathing soul of the world and using it to return the dark lord Ne’charthro’hu to its slumber beneath the sea, saving humanity from ten thousand years of torment, the first question on the average music journalist’s mind was likely not “how will this affect the sound of Ms. Perry’s next album?"

In fact, if I can be taken as an example of an average music journalist (I flatter myself that I can) we were more interested in fighting our way through still burning cities to find our families and tell them how much they mean to us in the aftermath of what came precariously close to global superapocalypse.

Nonetheless, previous to becoming the living embodiment of the human spirit, she-who-is-all-of-us was a pop singer of some renown. Her last album, 2010’s Teenaged Dream, sold 5.5 million copies worldwide, spinning off an impressive 8 international top 10 hits and gaining its young mastermind enough media exposure that, even before Ne’charthro’hu awoke and threatened to devour mankind, she was already a ubiquitous figure in the pop landscape. With this in mind, it should be no surprise that, after taking two years of “Katy Time” to adjust to her new status as a demigod (and have a baby), Ms. Perry would return to her day job and release a new album, and it should be equally unsurprising that said album would be difficult to judge on its own merits, being tied as it is to a metabeing such as Ms. Perry.

So, how does “…another thing” stand, divorced from its back-story as best it can be? It’s… fine, I suppose. The album’s built around three main pillars, the energetic leadoff single Heartbeaten, already a fixture of pop radio, the slinky, Roxy Music inspired dance number Underwater, sure to join Heartbeaten at the top of the charts when it’s finally released as a single, and the soaring orchestral ballad My Own Self. From the titles, one would assume that some portion of “…another thing” is an exercise in introspection, as Ms. Perry attempts to put the recent massive changes in her life into some kind of context digestible to the mainstream pop audience, but nothing could be further from the truth. Lyrically the album eschews any overt reference to how close humanity came to extinction, choosing instead to play it safe, taking refuge in party-pop clichés of bars, boys and pg-rated double entendres.

Which isn’t to say this is a bad thing, necessarily. Ms. Perry has never been an artist who thrives outside her comfort zone, and her formulae has in the past made for some immensely satisfying pop. However, what “…another thing” suffers from that her previous albums lacked is filler. A lot of filler. Understandable, perhaps, that between visits to gracious world leaders and explaining and re-explaining that no, she does not require worship from the people of Earth for what she’s done for us, she’d have too much on her plate to devote a full measure of attention to this project even if she’d wanted to, but nonetheless, once you venture outside the three massive tracks this album’s built around it starts to sound extraordinarily slight.

The songs bounce along at a brisk clip, and they’ll keep your toes tapping, but there’s very little behind them to remember, even seconds after you stop listening. Teenaged Dream may not have been deep, but it was at least fun from beginning to end, by the time you get to the end of this album you’re left with the impression that it’s only half finished, that the songs are too little, the production too rushed and that Ms. Perry was called away before its completion to attend to some more urgent business. The singles are there, and all three will do a fine job of defining commercial radio circa 2015 for future generations, but in between stretches what at times feels like a wasteland of missed opportunity.

And let’s not be coy about this, I’m as happy as the next pop reviewer not to be devoured body and soul by an ancient, eldritch being beyond all human comprehension, but the duet with Pitbull here does NOT work, and no amount of saving humanity will ever cause me to say otherwise.

None of which, by the way, is in any way relevant in terms of how this album will do commercially. From the success of Heartbeaten (18 weeks and counting at #1 on the pop charts, and 14 million copies sold worldwide to date) it’s clear that “…another thing” is a serious contender to take its spot as the most successful commercial pop album in the history of the form, regardless of its objective quality. The world watched Katy Perry save them from the endless night of screaming, and the world now seems more than willing to show its savior just how grateful they are. I, for one, received a review copy of this album, and intend to buy several copies at full price anyway. It seems like making pop music is something of personal import to Katy Perry, and I’m only too happy to do my part to indulge her in this pursuit.

I only wish I could’ve gotten a more substantial album out of the process…

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Queer Eye for the Felony

Five twenty-something homosexual cliché’s and a camera crew arrived at my house this morning. It was unexpected, but I’d seen shows like it before, so I did my best to be a good sport.

They toured the place first, critiquing my choices in clothes and décor. I tried not to let it hurt my feelings. I liked a lot of the things they threw out, but I knew I’d never considered such matters seriously, so I suppose it was no wonder that my home was not up to par, fashion wise.

Afterward, three of them stayed behind at my home as the other two took me shopping, and to get my hair styled. A lot of talk was exchanged about patterns that flatter my physique and colours that went well together.

I tried to keep up with what they were doing, but fashion really is a little bit beyond me. Still, I like what they did to my hair, and it was nice to get a little colour in my wardrobe. A few of the pieces they picked out for me I’d wear, for sure.

After the afternoon out was done, they took me home. They dropped me off in front of my house, and as their car pulled away, I opened my front door to see the changes they had made.

And that’s when I realized they had robbed me.