1. Oh, poor Al Green, you're so tired of being alone? Well, here's the thing. Fuck you. Do you really think any woman is going to think that's a romantic proposal? Tired of being alone? Get a dog. If you want your woman, try ' I can't live without you ' or ' I need you ' or even ' You make good macaroni ' for cripes sake. Tired of being alone? How about shut the hell up.
2. I always feel bad for the horse with no name.
3. If you're going to make inflammatory climatic predictions, you'd better bone up on your accuracy. It is NOT raining men, nor has it ever rained men, not at half past ten, and not ever. It HAS rained frogs, and fish, blood, corn, frozen squid, even cows. But not men.
4. Why does Jesus love Mrs Robinson so much? Last time I checked, she was a sinner. A fornicator! An adulteress! And heaven holds a place for her? Um, where do I sign up?
5. Let's call a spade a spade. Dear Aretha Franklin: it is not respect that you want when he comes home, it is sex. I get it. Mama wants a little sumfin sumfin. Cool. You want him to "whip it" to you and to "soc it" to you, but last time I checked, sex is spelled S-E-X not R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Also, you might want to be careful. When you exchange money for sex, it's not propers, it's prostitution. Just so you know.
6. I know why sister golden hair ain't gettin with you, and it's not because you write infrequent letters. It may be a convenient excuse that you've "been one poor correspondent", and "been too, too hard to find" but the truth is, she's dumping you because your grammar is atrocious. Sheesh.
7. And Marvellettes, don't get me started! You give a pathetic name to women everywhere the way you wait for the postman and cry when there's no package for you. It's not the postman's fault! Don't kill the messenger! Does anyone else think maybe that the guy above who is a poor correspondent is maybe the same guy making the poor Marvellettes wait and wait for a letter? Listen, Marvellettes, it's not like you're ultra loyal anyway. Sounds like you'd take up with the postman if only he gave you the time of day. I say, cut your losses. He's just not that into you!
8. Yes, the road is long with many a winding turn. This is true. But while it may be true that your brother ain't heavy, mine most definitely is. My brother thinks fritos is a food group and that playing Tiger Woods' PGA Tour on PS2 is as good as exercise. My brother is FAT, and I AM NOT going to carry him on my back.
9. Elvis, I think you should have been a bit kinder to your friend, the hound dog. Maybe it was a lie when they said he was high classed, but the truth is, you wore bedazzled jumpsuits, you ate fried peanut butter sandwiches, and you died on the toilet. Do you really think you're the authority on high class? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?
10. What is so sweet about Alabama? Apparently, it's the incest. I mean, you don't rhyme kin with sin and expect to get off scot-free.
11. You just called to say you love me? For no other reason? Thank goodness for caller ID. If you're eating up precious minutes, it better not be just another ordinary day. That shit's expensive, especially when I'm roaming! Man. Can anyone say stalker much? Next time, send a text.
12. Isn't incense AND peppermints a bit of overkill? And if it's not overkill, then I've got news for you: since the days of beatniks and politics, there have been amazing leaps and bounds in the field of embarrassing body odours. Buy a stick of deodorant, and you're good to go!
13. Whose Moma said you can't hurry love? My Moma was married when she was 18. She didn't wait. She married the first steady paycheque that proposed. And did she hold on no matter how long it takes? Heck no! She didn't play no game of give and take - she played "get out of my house you dirty rotten bastard". And she won. End of story.
So forgive me for being cynical, but oldies just aren't for me.