Thursday, October 08, 2009

Adventures in Unemployment: Killin' em Softly

As scientists work to map the human genome and understand how our genes make us who were are, they make amazing discoveries. One day, all this work may lead to the eradication of many diseases, and may also provide us with a kind of recipe for a human. They will find out what sequences and triggers give us our eye color, make us tall or short and good at sports. They may also find out what gene makes normal guys, like myself, break out into song at the drop of a hat. That's right dear reader, I have Spontaneous Melodiousness, or S.M.

Inky knew of my affliction when she married me, and to her credit, she has born this heavy burden well over our 10 years of marriage. Just one word can launch me into a rendition of some long ago forgotten song. Conversely, some common phrases will consistently evoke the same melodious response from me, so much so that Inky knows it's coming. Sadly, for her at least, I am not the only person she has had to deal with in her day to day life who has been stricken with Spontaneous Melodiousness. Her last boss also had SM, and like me, he had a rare and insidious strain of the illness.

He, like me, would change the words to songs on the fly while trying to be funny.

I know. Poor girl.

For me the subject matter of any song can be changed to one of a very few options. Option one goes back 15 years to the days when XL and I would launch into a version of a song which we would change to include our roommate's last name: Holcomb. An example would be "Oh Holcomb you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind. Hey Holcomb." I never said it was art, but it is addictive. There's something so easy about his name that you can fit it into just about any song, and trust me, we have.

The second manifestation of my S.M. is to insert a slang term for male and female reproductive organs into songs. This started with the song "Love Shack" which XL and I would often sing as "Nut sack baby" to endless giggles and self congratulation. Over the years we were able to take our lyrical tea bagging to the highest possible level and are now something resembling geniuses in the field.

I also have the most common form of S.M., which is just belting out a song (sometimes with absolutely no provocation) with no skill what so ever. Sometimes the most disturbing part of a S.M. case is the earnestness with which a person sings. And although you wouldn't think it, this is only made worse when the song in question is 80's rap, which is where I got my start oh so many years ago.

My brother, sister and cousins would sit there in tears as I recited LL Cool J, Run DMC and Sir Mix-A-Lot songs in all of my whiteness. I could really bring the room to its knees with a rendition of either of the big Tone Loc songs. In fact, I can still do Funky Cold Medina and Wild Thing start to finish today. I may not remember half the shit I learned in school, but at least I still have "Shopping at the mall, looking for some gear to buy. I saw this girl, she cold rocked my world and I had to adjust my fly." It's a trade off.

In the end, I had no chance against S.M. as my dad was a huge carrier. Although his manifested more in Sinatra type lyrics or whistles. We always got a lot of "dum dee dum dee dee dee dum" and "da da da det da da" when he vocalized. More often than not with him, however, he whistled to just about everything. Sadly, there is no known cure for Spontaneous Melodiousness in all it's many forms, and like second hand smoke, the effects can hurt those around you. I'm thinking about starting a Telethon, but we wouldn't be able to invite any musical guests for obvious reasons.

1 comment:

XL said...

This disease is very similar to Turets and equally as you know I am a fellow victim of this favorite one we did in college was Chicago's Love me tomorrow or in our words Fuck me tomorrow...