This needed to be done a long time ago

      
    
I have taken the liberty of annotating "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. My own comments appear in parentheses below:

I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan (So far, so good. I wear cardigans, like, all the time.)
welcome to the land of fame excess, am I gonna fit in? (I dunno... are Disney Channel kids "normal"?)
Jumped in the cab, (/limo)
Here I am for the first time (Psh, why would Miley Cyrus go to Hollywood? It's not like she's a movie star or anything.)
Look to the right and I see the Hollywood sign
This is all so crazy (I have to applaud the figurative language, here.)
Everybody seems so famous (Even the famous people are famous!)

My tummys turnin and I'm feelin kinda home sick (Those pine-scented cab fresheners'll do that to you.)
Too much pressure and I'm nervous,
That's when the taxi man turned on the radio (Cab Driver, from this day forth you shall be known as... TAXI MAN!)
and a Jay Z song was on (Oh, Jay Z. What a character. With his swagger and his empire state of mind.)
and the Jay Z song was on
and the Jay Z song was on

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They're playing my song,
And the butterflys fly away (Jay Z does have that effect on people...)
Noddin' my head like yeah (Like what?)
Moving my hips like yeah, (I really don't think that "yeah" is a legitimate simile...)
And I got my hands up,
They're playin my song
I know I'm gonna be ok
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (Except actually it's in Los Angeles.)
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA)

Get to the club in my taxi cab (/limo)
Everybody's lookin at me now
Like "who's that chick, thats rockin' kicks?
She gotta be from out of town

Okay, time out! Here's a snapshot from the music video:

She's hardly wearing anything, and she's dancing/"moving her hips like yeah" in front of a shiny, metallic background. I don't think people (namely guys) are gonna be looking at her feet. Just sayin'.

So hard with my girls not around me (In the music video, she's surrounded by *female* backup singers.)
Its definitely not a Nashville party (Again, in the music video, she's in a dust-covered parking lot, wearing cowboy-esque things, standing in the back of pickup trucks.)
Cause' all I see are stilletos (Apparently stilletos constitute a genuine city party.)
I guess I never got the memo (No, you just flew to LA on a plane by accident.)

My tummys turnin' and I'm feelin' kinda home sick (Parties make me feel that way, too.)
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the D.J. dropped my favorite tune (Thank goodness!)
and a Britney song was on (Oh no...)
and the Britney song was on (I guess she got over Jay Z.)
and the Britney song was on (It was probably "Womanizer"...)

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They're playing my song,
And the butterflys fly away (Not surprising. I imagine that if Britney Spears were around, butterflies wouldn't be.)
Noddin' my head like yeah (Wait... I'm starting to comprehend this...)
Moving my hips like yeah, (Never mind. 'Still doesn't make any sense.)
And I got my hands up,
They're playin my song
I know I'm gonna be ok
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA)
Yeah, It's a party in the USA (/LA. It still would have rhymed, too! If she had just kept her story straight.)

Feel like hoppin' on a flight
Back to my hometown tonight (...I'm noticing a trend.)
Something stops me every time (Cue taxi man.)
The DJ plays my song and I feel alright! (She could just get an ipod and not have to worry about any of this DJ business...)

Blah blah blah chorus line followed by insane laughter and people doing flips in a cage. (wtf?)

Oh well. Is it too much to ask for a STAGGERINGLY BRILLIANT LYRICIST nowadays!? Apparently. I'm not saying Miley Cyrus is a bad person. Certainly the entire preteen population of America is somewhat infatuated with her charms and annoyingly catchy melodies. Either that or it's her show on the Disney Channel. (She has the best of both worlds, ya know.)

Don't even get me started on Selena Gomez.

No Cape!

I admire Rorschach, because quite frankly, he pwns. Rorschach is a Watchmen superhero who considers his mask to be his true face. The ever-morphing images displayed on this mask/face are based on designs from the Rorschach Inkblot test. (Yay for complex algorithms and psychological interpretations.)

Dis Rorschach Kickin' Ass

I admire Rorschach because he sees his world in black and white.

His World.

I admire Rorschach because this is how I see my own world:

Mine.

Demetri Martin, How I love thee

Srsly though, I love that man.

Demetri Martin is a rather witty comedian, actor, artist, musician and writer. *swoons* Mostly known for his work on The Daily Show, he also hosts his own show on Comedy Central.

Oh, and he dropped out of NYU Law School a year before graduation to pursue stand-up comedy. HE DROPPED OUT OF NYU LAW SCHOOL. TO PURSUE STAND-UP COMEDY. Yummy.

Meet Demetri Martin.

Meet Demetri Martin in 3D. (You have to look at the red picture with your left eyeball, and the blue picture with your right eyeball for the full effect.)

Anyway, like I was saying, I would win a jousting tournament for Demetri Martin. Then he would shower me with love and affection and handkerchiefs.

Did I mention that Demetri Martin also writes poetry? The following is a palindrome poem he wrote, which I found to be particularly impressive/amorous:

"Dammit I'm Mad"

Dammit I’m mad.

Evil is a deed as I live.

God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.

To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.

Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?

Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.

I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.

Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,

In my halo of a mired rum tin.

I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.

Is evil in a clam? In a trap?

No. It is open. On it I was stuck.

Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.

Be still if I fill its ebb.

Ew, a spider… eh?

We sleep. Oh no!

Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.

Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.

Both, one… my names are in it.

Murder? I’m a fool.

A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,

A Goddam level I lived at.

On mail let it in. I’m it.

Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!

A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.

Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:

“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”

Evil is a deed as I live.

Dammit I’m mad.

(Courtesies of Here)

(Palindrome= a word, verse, sentence, or number that reads the same backward or forward, like "1881" or "Racecar")

I'm not actually obsessed with Demetri Martin. I just wanted to prove that I'm a better fan than all ya'lls. Also, I appreciate the fact that he owns a unicycle.

Hell to the yes.

O Brave New World!

Just ef why aye, the title of this post is considered one of the most commonly misquoted lines in all of literature. It actually has nothing to do with what I'm about to say, and everything to do with dystopian societies, suicide and crazed, uncivilized savages.

On that note, I suppose I ought to establish my niche in the blogger world. My own little nook for my own--quite public--blathering.

Here at The Fluky Jive, we do pretty much whatever we want. Unlike the act of pooping, we try not to spew forth uninformed nonsense. Instead, we illuminate subtleties in our eclectic collection of pop-culture references and entertainment media. So think illumination and enlightenment. Not poop. Poop = bad. Illumination and enlightenment = good.

Don't get me wrong, most of what I say is nonsensical in the sense that the larger context is often ignored.

To illustrate, let me briefly explain my fascination with space pickles:

Example Space Pickle

When I was young, feral and illiterate, I used to draw pictures of space pickles--normal pickles with red capes. (Presumably, the red capes enabled the pickles to fly.) These space pickle adventures always took place in class. I would draw them in comics, or doodle them flying across my notes. More often than not, terrible things would happen to these space pickles.

Example Space Pickle Comic Strip

In essence, my space pickles endured everything horrible for me. I didn't have to deal with anything in real life. And this was a great relief. They entertained me, they spontaneously imploded, and then they flew away. All was well in the world of Stanza Marloch.

In the grand scheme of things, space pickles don't really matter. But they were funny and mildly entertaining, and they refocused my energy toward something constructive.

You simply have to treasure these little things, as well as the spirit in which they implode.

Welcome to The Fluky Jive!