By Dan Hein
Well, it’s just about 2:30 p.m. here in the studio, and it’s time now for the five o’clock news. Our top story today: a debate was held earlier this afternoon to discuss the existence of God at the National Convention Center in Spokane, Washington. Appealing for the arguments against God’s existence was English professor Matthew Tylers of Cranberry University, and making the case for God was the leader of the International Church of Reptilian Animals, an alligator named Joseph. Tylers made his opening statement first, asking the crowd to provide any physical evidence of God’s existence and denying that faith can be used as an acceptable way to confirm that something or somebody is real, and Joseph responded by tearing the professor to shreds and swallowing his internal organs. A spokesman for the ICRA, a rattlesnake named Simon, was quoted as saying “serves the bastard right,” before shaking his rattle violently and biting our reporter in the leg.
And now, we turn to the latest in music. We recently had Harry F. Trompaloo, lead singer of the progressive rock band The Neurological Sandpaper Experience, in the studio to talk about the band’s latest album: Nobody Doesn’t Dislike You, Kevin. Trompaloo discussed the eight-song, five-CD album, and told us about each of the songs the band had recorded. He had the following to say:
The First Song: We wanted to get the album started off more relaxed, but with a song that still had aggression and passion behind it. So we recorded a song where I scream the name of various farm animals while the band plays a somber soft rock piece in 17/4 time.
An Ode to Manfred Jambalaya: Manfred Jambalaya was a good friend of mine. He wrote a song for me and wanted the band to play it at his wedding. Then he spontaneously exploded. We never played it out of respect, but we wrote this little number as a tribute. Manfred’s mom told us that she hated the song, though. She wanted us to remove it from the album.
Fuck You, Mom: So we wrote “Fuck You, Mom” as a response.
Invalidate: We wanted to turn it up for the next track, and we wanted to get a message across. So the drummer, Mr. and Mrs. James Bonesaw, wrote politically charged lyrics about stereotyping in America today, and a wonderfully aggressive song which features Frederick making a sandwich in the middle of the track, and ends with a fifteen-hour triangle solo.
I Actually Didn’t Really Think That Million Dollar Baby Starring Clint Eastwood and Hilary Swank Was a Very Good Movie, I Just Said That It Was So That You Would Be Happy: This was written by our bassist, Frederick von Frederick, about a horrible mustard-related accident that happened when he was a child. He doesn’t like to talk about it. It has barely any music in it – it’s just Frederick sobbing into a microphone. Actually, it’s pretty sad.
Poop: Wait, this song made it on the album? This song is absolutely garbage. This was written by our rhythm guitarist, Carl Bloomweiner. He sucks at writing songs. This is his worst song yet.
Is This Plate Dishwasher Safe?: Not much to say here. Well, it’s a song so short that we haven’t come up with a measure to quantify how short it is. So, I guess that’s cool.
Nobody Doesn’t Dislike You, Kevin: I wrote this song after an encounter I had on the subway. A homeless person came up and introduced himself as Kevin, and asked me if anybody liked him. So I told him, “nobody doesn’t dislike you, Kevin”. Then he spontaneously exploded. People tend to do that around me. Anyway, once I was kicked off the train, I grabbed a discarded napkin from the ground and wrote down the lyrics to this song.
Following this, our interviewer spontaneously exploded. The Neurological Sandpaper Experience’s new album is out now, and you can pirate it wherever music can be pirated.
Coming up later on the program, the doctors of Johnathon Tollbooth Memorial Hospital from Melbourne, Australia will be performing an open heart surgery live in the studio. But right now, we have to go to a commercial break for the rest of the hour. We’ll be right back after messages from these whores – oh, I meant companies.