Song Challenge 17: Song That Would Play As You Stepped Up To a Major League Batter’s Box

by WE’RE NOT FUNNY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

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30-DAY SONG CHALLENGE, DAY 17
SONG THAT WOULD PLAY AS YOU STEPPED UP TO A MAJOR LEAGUE BATTER’S BOX

"Mark McGwire likes Guns 'N Roses. You will play some Guns 'N Roses for Mark McGwire NOOOWWWWWWW!!!!"

JESSICA STIMSON
“Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Linda Ronstadt. I could be totally wrong on the artist. My apologies if I am.

DRIFT ROBERTS
Pat Benatar. Have that one on vinyl. I may secretly be 44 years old.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
Gotta be Big Pun‘s “Still Not a Player.” (“I’m not a playa, I just crush a lot.”) Big Pun was my favorite 700-pound rapper of all times. I’m not slight of build, but damn, that guy was a fat motherfucker. When you’re outfitting your living room with cargo-type doors and having furniture specially made, I would think a person might say to him/herself, “Maybe it’s time for a salad.”

WOO
“Ready or Not,” The Fugees.

MICHELLE DEE
Woo lies. I see him walking up to bat with Rick Ross‘s “Hustlin'” playing. Then proceeding to dry hump the catcher, Kat Williams-style.

WOO
Holy shit, I forgot about “Hustlin'”! What’s wrong with me? I CALL REDO. “Hustlin'” it is!

EMILY TOOPS
LL Cool J, ‎”Mama Said Knock You Out.” It’s also my hypothetical WWE ring entrance music.

SCOTTY HARRIS
As someone who thinks baseball is the worst thing on the planet, I think I would have to play any song that might get people to quit paying to watch this horrible sport and indirectly signing million dollar contracts for people to hit a fucking ball. I hate all professional sports, but at least in football you run the risk of getting paralyzed for being such a douche to begin with. So, maybe a two-hour loop of Michael Richards‘ meltdown. Backed with the “Barney” theme song. With vocals by Yoko Ono. And William Hung.

J.MIZ
I’m with Scotty. I’d write my own song called “SOMEBODY HELP! WTF AM I DOING HERE?! UNLESS I’M ON A SHIT-TON OF ACID, THEN I’LL PITCH A NO HITTER.”

ALLISON STEIN
“Welcome to the Jungle,” Guns ‘N Roses. (“You’re in the jungle baby! / I wanna watch you bleed!”)

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
Yup, that was Mark McGwire‘s at-bat music whilst he played for the Cardinals.

ALLISON STEIN
I attribute that song choice to possible ‘roid rage: “Hey Mark, what song would you like to be played as you come up to the batter’s box?” “I want ‘Welcome to Jungle.'” Then he plays some ferocious air guitar and beats the shit out of some poor teammate.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
When Matt Morris was a Cardinal, he would come out to Phish‘s “Weekapaug Groove.” The idea that he might be playing baked always made me smile.

RYAN KRAUSE
Jumbo Shrimp, “Fuck Your Shit Up.” I only am called to the plate when they need a “game changer,” and that song definitely is a game changer!

Song Challenge 16: Most Irritating Kids’ Song

edited by ANDREW HICKS
creatively conceived by J.MIZ

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You know what makes you wiggle? Meth.

SARACAKES
The lyrics to “The Alphabet Song” are kinda lame.

JESSICA STIMSON
Barney‘s theme song: “I love you, you love me / Mommy’s gonna need some PCP.”

ALLISON STEIN
Everything by Barney sucks. Barney needs to die in a horrible, fiery car explosion after having his prostate examined by a doctor nicknamed Big Knuckles McGee.

J.MIZ
I think anything Barney needs to be mind-sucked from every generation that had to endure that Clockwork Orange-type shit! If I saw that as a kid, I’d be shitting my bed every night… Instead, there are other reasons.

ERTEL GRAY
I gotta go with that “Fruit Salad” song by The Wiggles. Scratch that — anything ever recorded, uttered or even remotely associated with The Wiggles gets my vote.

PROBABLY MATT LINVILLE
I would say “The Potty Dance Song,” but I kinda burned it onto a CD, and I kinda listen to it like every day now.

ANNE GARDNER
“The Cuppy Cake Song.” I don’t think I even need to explain why I hate it. Click the link. You’ll hate it too.

RYAN KRAUSE
Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen‘s “Peanut Butter,” from their hit album Brother For Sale. The Olsen/ twins are so young in this song that they sound like a duo of metally handicapped adult ladies. Kinda funny how I would’ve loved to smother them both in peanut butter and lick it off when I was 18. (I can say that shit. Mary Kate and Ashley are the same age as me.)

ANDREW HICKS
I’d lick peanut butter off either Olsen twin or both simultaneously. (I can say that shit. I love peanut butter that much.)

Song Challenge 15: Most Shameless Song About Jailbait

edited by ANDREW HICKS
creatively conceived by J.MIZ

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WNF SONG CHALLENGE
DAY 15: MOST SHAMELESS SONG ABOUT JAILBAIT

Barney's "friends."

JAMES DRAPER
“I Love You, You Love Me,” by Barney the Dinosaur.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
That dirty bastard Gary Puckett and his perv-o buddies the Union Gap confessed and harmonized their obsession with Young Girl. (“Young girl, get out of my mind / My love for you is way outta line / You’d better run, girl! / You’re much too young, girl!”) Seriously, that entire song is about a guy who’s popping a chubby over the neighborhood girl scout.

ANDREW HICKS
I get creeped-out chills when I hear Ringo congratulate that girl in the song on turning 16. I figure he’s had his eye on her for awhile.

J.MIZ
“Meet My Ex-Boyfriend,” by J.Miz.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
Since he’s been found with child porn on his computer, deported from Cambodia for suspected statutory rape and convicted in Vietnam of statutory rape, it’s hard not to read meaning into some of Gary Glitter‘s supposedly innocuous lyrics. I think a good rule of thumb would be to assume any songwriter named Gary is a pedophile.

ANDREW HICKS
Googled G. Glitter. When he was convicted for his kid porn, the judge noted that his stash was “carefully, deliberately and enthusiastically done.” No joke necessary. This guy was clearly a connoisseur.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
I am now going over the lyrics of Rascal Flatts songs to find evidence of the secret yearnings of high-voiced lead singer Gary LeVox.

Enter Kipper, Exit Elmo

by ANDREW HICKS

Every now and then, when cynicism strikes me, I ponder the possibility that love by nature is fleeting. Two of the couples who were married at the last three weddings I attended have already gotten divorced. They didn’t even hang in there long enough to celebrate the exchange of fine leather in traditional observance of the third wedding anniversary.

I guess not everyone’s priorities and life goals match up, but I know I’m digging in my heels and holding on tight at least until I get the traditional fruits and flowers that are the spoils of celebrating a whopping four years of marriage. I never thought I’d outlast some of my peers just by staying married for a fifth of a fifth of a century, but actually, when I put it that way, it kinda seems like a long time.

Within the last few weeks, I’ve witnessed a love I thought was pure and eternal disintegrate right in front of my eyes. This is a love I could’ve sworn would last forever. I’m speaking of my 2-year-old daughter Sarah’s torrid, abiding passion for Elmo. Once, he was all she would talk about. She would awake in breathless anticipation of his headwide smile and way-too-frequent, self-conscious giggle. Now, it’s like Elmo never existed, and I’m wondering if he pissed her off. I saw her rip the crap out of his picture in a book last week.