pop music analogy

First I feel I must apologize to my more senior readers who aren't going to have a clue about this post. I promise to come up with some kind of Peter, Paul, and Mary or James Taylor analogy at a later date just for you...

Rob Van Winkle, who you might remember as the short-lived pop sensation, Vanilla Ice, had an instant hit on the charts in 1990 with "Ice, Ice Baby". There was some upset in the music business because the catchy bass line was very similar to the David Bowie/Queen song, "Under Pressure". This is a site that mentions the questionable usage and drama associated with the previously published and slightly reused riffs.

I've since seen footage of interviews with Vanilla Ice, where he tries to explain how his song is different from the Bowie/Queen song. It cracks me up to think about it, and I can't do it justice, but it went something like this:

Their song goes da-dum-diddy-dum-diddy-d'dum dum, and my song goes da-dum-diddy-dum-diddy-Dum-dum. See? They're totally different!

I think it's the sincerety of his explaination that makes it so funny to me, or maybe it's my inner child who was read the many masterpieces of Dr. Seuss. Maybe it's because in reality we tell ourselves that small changes make plagerism okay in the real world.

Last night The Hater and I, after discussing and rejoycing in another day of non-mandated prison, began to wonder if it would be acceptable for us to sleep in the same bed. We knew that swapping saliva was out of the question, but I was also told that this dose would be low enough so that I would be no threat to an adult him. Do I inprison myself for sleep or not?

We decided that if I slept under the sheets and he slept over the sheets but under the blankets, too, that it would be an acceptable compromise. This way our skin wouldn't even touch, but we could have the benefits of a warm body next to us in bed. It's like being in prison, but not.

See, the prison layout goes dum-dum-diddy-dum, but sleeping next to him where we can't touch goes dum-diddy-dum-dum. They're totally different!

And pointing that out gave us an opportunity for a needed laugh.

More Random Vanilla Ice Moments
(because, really, everybody has more than one)

I.
In college I would be welcomed to the wonderful world of cable television and MTV. Mr. Van Winkle's dirty secret of not being a poor white rapper would would transform his career into a desperate grasp into a metal Vanilla Ice. At the point when I saw he would be playing at Main Street, another college bar in the cultural hubub of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, I was both amused and saddened that his career had come to being featured at such a metal-mecca. I won't lie; mostly I was amused.

I wish I could say I went to the bar to see the fallout, but I didn't want to rubberneck, and I couldn't talk The Hater or Angry Dissenter into going with me. Instead I drove the back way to the grocery store for about a week so that I could laugh at the sign when I drove by it...

II.
I had a roomate in college who discovered herself and transformed from a very studious, mild girl into a flamboyant, social butterfly who skipped most of her classes over one summer. She would frequently return to the dorm room from grocery shopping or drinking or whatnot at 3 in the morning, turn on the overhead light, and jump on my bed, singing either "Ice, Ice Baby" or The Divinyls hit, "I Touch Myself", complete with dancing and sometimes a cd playing in the background.

The next year I found a new, clean roomate who wanted to go to bed every night propmptly after the 10pm Simpsons reruns.

I ran into my old roomate on campus a few times while we were still in school. She had changed her major, and thought it was important for me to know that she missed the showers down the hall from our dorm room because, and I quote her, "it was the greatest place to masturbate". Awkward silence.

We may have lived together for a couple of years, but GIRL, you don't have to tell me that. And thank you, Vanilla Ice, that now whenever I think of her, your dum-dum-diddy comes to mind.

III.
The Hater has the song "Ice, Ice Baby" on his Ipod. He'll argue that he put it on there for me, but I think the real reason is that it's a much needed amusement on the drive home, usually after we've been in the car for at least ten hours.

And even though sometimes the song will circulate to play at other times, other people in the car will groan and moan when the music starts-- they all sing at least the first verse.

IV.
Sometimes we just need to stop, collaborate and listen.