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That’s my Princess happily singing away in the backseat. 

“Um.  Honey, the song is PARADISE CITY not LITTLE WHITE CITY.” 

“I don’t think so, Mom.”

She’s only six so methinks she gets a “Get Out of Jail Free” pass on the maiming of my Guns N Roses CD, but it may be time for the rest of us to maybe listen first and sing later.  Or in the case of my injured-barking-seal voice listen first and sing NEVER.

I am not a morning person and do not listen to much radio in the mornings because there is so much TALK and so little MUSIC.  However, I do catch a snippet of John Boy and Billy on occasion, and I love when they highlight “Chronic Lyricosis“.  This is a dreadful affliction whereby an individual sings the wrong lyrics. 

Here are the major screwups in my little world:

  • “Love STICKS” – The Princess’ version of J. Geils Band’s “Love STINKS”.
  • “Do the HOT DOG” – My friend Hayley in high school used to abuse “The Hustle”.
  • “SHAKE A CAN OF BISCUITS” – Hayley again singing “Takin’ Care of Business”.
  • “Give me the BEACH BOYS” – Dear Dobie Gray, Forgive me for taking liberties with “Drift Away”.
  • “She’s a WEINER” – My daughter again.  This time mutilating “She’s a Lady” by Tom Jones.  Sugar, it really says “She’s  a WINNER.”  I promise.
  • “OH TENDER. It’s just a shot away.”  Sorry, Mick.  I heard “Gimme Shelter” twenty-seven million times before I learned it was supposed to be “War, Children….”  Oops.

My favorite happened in the early eighties when the Eagles started getting airplay on the local easy listening radio station.  Apparently they were in quite a regular rotation because my (then 60-something) Nannie started complaining about vulgar music on her station.  I knew her taste ran toward Lawrence Welk so my tween self didn’t think much of it, but she was really outraged about some of the lyrics and insisted that I must hear this song because she COULD NOT BELIEVE that something so HORRIBLY OFFENSIVE could be played on the radio.

So she and I are in her car driving somewhere when “Take It To The Limit” comes on. 

“This is it!  Listen!”

Nannie cranks up the volume and proceeds to sing along.  I am doubled over crying (sobbing) with laughter as she belts out,

“PUSSY on the highway.  Show me a sign.  And take it to the limit one more tii-iime.”

And now 25 years later, I still sing it that way and still laugh just as hard every time I hear it.

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