Stick House
To the tune of the Commodores' Brick House. Inspired by reading fashion magazines and listening to funky music.
She's a Stick House!
She's mighty skinny,
Got nothin' to hang out.
She's a Stick House!
Been takin' smack,
That's a fact,
Baby ain't got no back.
Look together, everybody knows
That this is how the story goes ...
She knows she'll lose any weight
That a girl can lose to get a man.
What does she eat, such a twig she is?
26-24-26! What a bony hand!
She's a Stick House!
She's mighty skinny,
Got nothin' to hang out.
She's a Stick House!
Been takin' smack,
That's a fact,
Baby ain't got no back.
'Cause she's a Stick House!
Yeah, she's the one, the only one,
And she acts like she weighs a ton.
The clothes she wears on New York runways
Make the watchers want to feed her face, yeah, yeah.
She starves herself, designers to please;
The next strong wind will knock the girl to her knees!
'Cause she's a Stick House ...
Han
The original question was: Should Greg and I rewrite the theme to Shaft featuring Flash Gordon (Flash! ... Can ya dig it?) or the theme to Flash Gordon featuring Shaft (Shaft, Shaft, I love you, but we only have 14 hours to save the ghetto!). Pete Vonder Haar interfered, and this was the result:
Who's the pilot they call Slick
that's a sex machine to all the chicks?
(Han!)
You're damn right
Who is the man
that would risk his neck for a Jedi man?
(Han!)
Can ya dig it?
Who's the cat that won't cop out
when there's Tie fighters all about?
(Han!)
Right on
You see this cat Han Solo is a bad mother--
(Shut your mouth)
But I'm talkin' about Han
(Then we can dig it)
He's a complicated man
And no one understands him but his Wookie.
(Han Solo)
The Bamiyan Rag
To the tune of Tom Lehrer's Vatican Rag. Inspired by the Round Table Iron Chef competition. Ingredients were: the Bamiyan Buddhas, cell phones, the NCAA basketball tournament, and faith-based air-traffic control.
The Bamiyan Rag was written in the spring of 2001.
First you mark it with your chisel,
Fiddle with your Stinger missile,
Aim it at the Buddha's nose,
And there it goes, watch it blow, what a show!
Call the AP on the cell phone,
Tell them the icons are gone.
Every last one of ya
Sing your praise to Allah!
Doin' the Bamiyan Rag!
Get in line with springtime gladness,
Looking forward to March Madness
But basketball can't fix your sadness
Like exploding Buddhist badness.
If your team wins, that's fantastic,
Time to get iconoclastic!
Two! Four! Six! Eight!
Smashing statues sure feels great!
So you mark it with your chisel,
Fiddle with your Stinger missile,
Aim it at the Buddha's nose,
And there it goes, watch it blow, what a show!
In Kabul pray for safe landings
With Koranic understandings.
Ain't traffic control grand
When Allah makes the plane land?
Welcome to Afghanistan, don'tcha love the Taliban?
Doin' the Bamiyan Rag!