11/6/2008 - Lend Me Your Tunes

Since I began listening to my local NPR station several months ago I have noticed some changes:

• On Tuesday night America elected a new president and I knew what was going on the entire time.
• When I participate in political conversations I know what I'm talking about (no more of that lousy guesswork!)
• I am able to enter existing conversations with phrases that begin with "On NPR the other day I heard..."

Based on this evidence, I have concluded that since becoming a listener of National Public Radio I have begun to sound extremely intelligent. Nobody ever says it but I'm pretty sure that way deep down in their most secret places they are very, very impressed.

Newer and smarter though I may be, I have had to make some sacrifices. Before I continue, you must know one thing about me: I am very poor at surfing radio stations. Once I get a radio station set on my alarm clock I do not change it come hell or high water because once I do I know that I will never find - and never hear - that station again. 

So. I've got this NPR station that I love, and that I will never change, and I listen to it religiously since all I have to do is poke the "ON" button on my alarm clock and I have instant entertainment while I wash the dishes or trim my toenails. And though bickering pundits could easily entertain me from dawn until dusk, my ears are missing something softer...something gentler...

Oh, but for the days of music. For my oldies station and my iTunes (also growing cobwebs since my Internet connection rarely works and there's no other reason to turn on my rickety computer). The songs I used to know and love have, one by one, packed their bags and left. Now, when I hum or whistle to myself (a favorite pastime) I have on hand only the tunes that have been in my head so long they're probably part of the lining. So instead of Purple Rain it's Row Row Row Your Boat; You Are My Sunshine has taken the place of Thriller.

Furthermore, when I get tired of the lyrics I learned when I was four, I begin making up my own. Since I lack creativity I generally reach for inspiration from the first moving object to cross my path. And since I own a cat that insists on always being in my face I generally sing songs - made-up nursery rhyme songs - about my cat. 

A prime example: (To be sung to the tune of My Little Playmate)

My little striped cat,

You are so furry, yes.

I like your small white toes,

I like them very best.

They are so fuzzy,

So black and so pink, too,

And I will like you, cat,

Because you're you!

Courtesy pause for raised eyebrows.

It's things like this that make me worry about becoming a Cat Lady. I suspect that you don't reach this status unless you have at least four cats, but since I make up songs for the lone audience of my one, I figure things can't be too bright on my horizon. 

For everything you will ever need to know about my cat (I call him Moxie, but frankly I don't think he has the foggiest idea what his name is; you can call him whatever you like), see below:

   

Being a bum.      Aerial view.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I need your music. Bad. Just tell me the names of some good albums with some singable songs. Because people don't just talk about politics; sometimes I have to sound smart about music, too...and Twinkle Twinkle will not make the cut.