dora the demonic force of musical evil
This is Dora.
Dora is a multi-gazillion dollar franchise with tv, book, toy, game, happy meal, etc., tie-ins and a musical component that is the aural equivalent of ebola. I’m serious. The songs on her show have to be the most annoying music in the history of the musical world times ten.
For example, the little purple thing on her back there is her back-pack. It gets it’s own song. I can’t even say the word ‘back-pack’ without the stupid ass back-pack song, a tune that infects my brain for days after the briefest exposure, getting stuck in my head. “Back pack, back pack…” It turns into so many things. “Bad cat, bad cat…” “Jump back, jump back…”, “Fuck that, fuck that…” You get the picture.
Paul is particularly susceptible to this infection, using his own made up lyrics, of course, and at a moment’s exposure will have the back-pack tune in his brain for weeks. It’s gotten to the point where he starts singing it, maybe he’s making breakfast, or tying his shoes, or just walking around the yard, some phrase, or half-phrase even, triggers the song in his head and he starts singing it, and one of the kids goes over and socks him. No talking, no explanations, just wham! The poor man can’t stop himself, I know, but I can’t help but feel their pain. The song is a nightmare.
It isn’t like we watch the show. The infection can come in on a commercial—of which there are many—while we innocently watch something else. What to do? What to do? My family is turning into a mass of barely contained violence and musical torture.
I knew we had reached critical mass the other day in the grocery store, walking along, looking for apple juice, when we passed a box of Dora cereal and Sophie stood there, finger pointing in total accusation, and said, “DORA, I CURSE YOU.”
I’m not kidding there, she really said that!
Why are these songs so catchy, when they are so bad? Who writes them and what drugs are they on? What is their end-game? Or maybe I don’t want to know.
We’re getting help. I’m calling in an exorcist. I’ll let you know how it goes.
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today's yoga practice
- friday
May 11, 2012 | 10:09 am…and now we come to lady’s holiday. the weakest week of yoga that ever barely happened.
- thursday
May 11, 2012 | 9:09 amprimary to navasana. can’t seem to get past freaking navasana this week. at least I’m on the mat.
- wednesday
May 11, 2012 | 9:08 amprimary to navasana with Maria’s vid.
- tuesday
May 11, 2012 | 9:08 amSKIP. Shame.
- monday
May 11, 2012 | 9:07 amprimary to navasana. am I back in the saddle?
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Archive for today's yoga practice »
- friday
upcoming book releases
a few greatest hits
- bikini power vs. the ratty sweater
- recycling other people's junk
- flying kids
- 2 stories, 1 joke, and a song
- how to build a yurt (1 of 10)
- remains of the play
- unexpected benefit of living in a round house #27
- the solstice from inside a sundial
- butterfly house
- welcome to mayaland's virtual macabre crawfish feast of death!
- the emotional insanity of writing
- writing without pencil sharpening
- screen time for fun and profit
- triple chocolate pudding goop, or, this way lies madness
- the 13 year visitation of the demon red-eyed cicada
- the power of mom’s day can melt even the most bitter of hearts, not that my heart is bitter, but it has gotten a bit crusty around the edges
- bad things come in threes. or fours. (or maybe fives?)
- crafts for karma
- going all erin brockovich on your ass
- living the tie-dyed life
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The mute button can be your friend.
As for fighting the brainworms, pick a song you like, or at least one you don’t mind, and every time the worms attack, begin loudly singing your counter-song. If you can’t be loud, make it loud in your head, chant it under your breath, whatever it takes to “shout down” the intruder. The key is to counteract the insidiousness of the brainworm with your chosen antidote tune.
You guys are clever. You can do this.
You don’t understand! The mute button requires vigilance and we don’t have none of that. And yeah, I’ve heard of that trick, find another song, and it sort of works, but this stuff is insidious. It’s like malaria. You never really get rid of it.
Snerk. Matilda is OBSESSED with Dora. Why why why???
:laughing: