I woke up on Saturday morning with the atrocious “There’s Only One Way To Rock” running through my head, for no reason I could discern. This was further complicated by the fact that I never know the words to songs, just the chorus, so I went around all day singing
There’s only one way
There’s only one way
TO ROCK
to myself. Over and over.
And if that’s not bad enough, after a while, I began to experience self-doubt. Is my unconscious trying to tell me something? Is this a message? Am I, perhaps, not rocking properly? How do I tell?
Furthermore, the suspicion that Sammy ferchrissake Hagar knows the correct way to rock and I don’t really burns me up.
These are the things that keep me up at night. I had a terrible weekend.
You think that’s bad! He ruined my birthday lastyear, showed up to my party drunk, opened all my presents before we’d even had cake and icecream and then started hitting on my sister. When that didn’t go anywhere he started hitting on my mom, then he passed out in the cake. It was awful.
Sammy Hagar had to cover David Lee Roth’s songs in Van Halen. Most of VHs memorable songs were, in fact, DLR songs. Ergo, Sammy does not know the one way to rock.
OK. Most if not all of the people I have spoken with regarding this matter agree that the Red Rocker is not the avatar of all things rock. This is most reassuring.
Otherwise, there seems to be an even split as to whether there are multiple ways to rock, or, as Murcielago points out, only one way. Although, as I re-read his or her missive, I see a mixed message.
Murcielago, your use of the word “which” in your second sentence seems to negate your assertion, in your first sentence, that there really is only one way to rock. Please make up your mind.
You know, now that I think about it, the one to ask in regards to this troubling question is none other than our Perfect Master.
Cecil, I implore you, please inform me, your worthless yet faithful minion, is there really only one way to rock? And if so, how can I tell if I am rocking correctly?
So I watched it on the weekend. Meh. The one-wagon circle and Yiddish Indians made me laugh.
But there is a scene in the town church where they are singing about their lot in a very singsong showtuney arrangement, and there is a line something like “This town is turning into shi-iit” at the end of a verse.
So last night my 13 month old daughter is up, feverish, yarking up her insides, and generally miserable, and the phrase “This night is turning into shi-iit” leapt into my head unbidden, pitch perfect, and in my minds eye I could see the players in the church holding prop hymnals and executing the line.
Lack of sleep apparently lased this onto my forebrain 'cos it’s been playing in my head. All. Gawl. Darned. Day. But that’s not even the stupid part.
The stupid part is, I tried to explain all this to three people at work. I think most of you can imagine the kinds of looks and reactions this netted me.
