Trailer

I've always been fascinated by Hollywood's choice to make children's songs creepy. Hardly a horror trailer goes by that doesn't have 8-year-old girls (or are they boys? Creeeeeeeeeeepy) singing a nursery rhyme in a cold monotone, guiding us through scared high schoolers running/falling/running more through a mansion, or a mother finding out that her son has been possessed by a demon.

I don't know why it's supposed to be scary. Ring around the rosey isn't a very frightening game. It involves spinning. A lot. I suppose folks might be scared of getting dizzy, but I bet being killed is worse. Getting killed is pretty scary. Kids playing, not so much.

That said, I love it. I fully support this phenomenon. It should be expanded though, beyond just children's songs. "Ashes to ashes we all fall down…" loses its edge after a while. And no one knows what a "tuffet" is, so the catalog is a bit limited in its effectiveness. They should still be sung by children, of course, in the cold, creepy monotone we've come to appreciate. Otherwise it wouldn't be creepy. Tom Jones, for example, is a perfect choice for the next gothic stalker movie. Imagine:

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone..."

From an 8-year-old? Gold. Creative studios would probably even change the last line of the chorus to fit the theme, "YOU wanna die?" But that would suck. Quit messing with the classics, Hollywood.

Ultimately though, you need to combine it with a slasher flick. Ideally, it would go something like this:

The scene opens on a creepy wooded area somewhere in the Northeast. Why? Because no one knows where Vermont is. That makes it scary. Panning over to a quaint, two-lane highway, a busload of Hooters girls gossip about their manager and debate the merits of the Pussycat Dolls. They're excited about their camping trip. They're excited about bonding over sexual harrassment and buffalo wings.

They're about to die.

Suddenly, darkness. A lone Hooters girl takes a walk along the serene creek. She doesn't know she's about to die. She doesn't know the rules. She hears a rustling in the bushes. Maybe it's just a bunny. The look on her face tells us she's not sure if they have bunnies in Vermont, but she sure hopes they do. Another rustle, and she foolishly calls out to the bushes. Another, rustle, a branch cracking, she begins to run. Monstercam shows us she doesn't get away. It's hard to run in those shorts. Poor girl.

A parade of images of various scenes of terror commences. They should have gone to Cabo. Who in their right mind picks Vermont over Mexico? The images speed up, finally ending on a shot of a solitary Hooters girl, crying, breathing heavy, backed into a corner, the killer's shadow looming over her. The camera rushes toward her, she screams, then darkness. And an 8-year-old.

"Who wears short shorts?..."

Cake

SANTA FE — New Mexico is taking its fight against drunken driving to men's restrooms around the state...

The state has ordered 500 talking urinal cakes that will deliver a recorded anti-DWI message to bar and restaurant patrons who make one last pit stop before getting behind the wheel.

"Hey there, big guy. Having a few drinks?" a female voice says a few seconds after an approaching male sets off a motion sensor in the device. "It's time to call a cab or ask a sober friend for a ride home."

***

Not to diminish the undeniable power of talking urinal cakes as an aversion to binge drinking, but if I were in a bar and a urinal cake hit on me in a woman's voice, I'd start drinking more.

Heteronormativity aside, there is a market for this. Not being part of the greater watersports community, I may be talking out of my ass here, but it seems like they suffer a lack of accessories. Sure, you have your rubber mats, your tarpaulins, your water pills, but most of the equipment is built-in. Plus, it's pretty partner-dependent. I mean, if you're alone, you can't just pee on the dog.

Well, you can, but the dog probably won't like you anymore.

Talking urinal cakes though, would be THE "it" accessory for watersports aficionados. Finally, in the privacy of their own home, they could simply unzip, let fly, and receive a satisfactory retort without the added mess of finding a partner. Plus, it avoids the awkward, "Oh.... GOD! I thought you meant we'd be innertubing!" situation.

No one likes that.

And what about annoyingly silent partners? Not with talking urinal cakes! In addition to the obligatory "ohhh... yeahhhhhh..." and "ahhhglglglglglggggl," there could be a variety of phrases, such as:

"Not in the eyes!"

"In the eyes!"

"It's Miller time!" (to which the proper response would be, "no, it's [your name here] time!")

If that's not their bag, no problem! They can buy the deluxe model with which users can record their own erotic phrases.

Plus, think of the fun terminology. Folks could while away their lonely Sunday afternoons "caking," and then go chat on the internet with other "cakers," perhaps "caking" at the same time. Adventurous "cakers" could "camcake" with folks from around the world!

Plus, the talking urinal cake can't expose your shame when you're running for public office, or trying to get that big promotion. Indeed, your anonymity is guaranteed with these babies. It wouldn't even seem weird for them to arrive at your home in an unmarked, brown paper package.

Trust me, if I knew how to construct recordable talking urinal cakes, I'd be making millions right now. It'd be like Fight Club, but without the fighting and scavenged human fat.
Awesome.

Linguistics

Yesterday, I realized that we have a real problem on our hands.

Traditionally, hybrids of music genres have been labelled via hyphenated abbreviations of one, or both genres, such as "alt-rock" or "rap-rock." Normally, this is a convenient way of giving the listener a clear grasp of what they're listening to, in case the vocals are no indication.

Unfortunately, with the recent crossover success of country music into the pop charts, it's only a matter of time before a new label will need to be created. Logically, this label would be, "count-pop."

Yeah.

"Count-pop."

Of course, pronounciation-wise, we're not talking the obsessive-compulsive purple muppet here. This is problematic.

I haven't yet decided if this is more problematic than the knowledge that I had this revelation while listening to SheDAISY. It took a lot for me to admit that. SheDAISY. I expect some of you are disavowing all knowledge of me right now. I can't blame you.

To be honest, I don't even know what a SheDAISY is. Is it that important to gender a flower? I know there are only three of them, so it's not a creative arrangement of their initials. It's not really SheDarcyAnnaIngridSarahYolanda. That would be SheD.A.I.S.Y. For those of you who frequent more countrified circles, is there a HeDAISY out there that necessitates this specification? Do the boys listen to HeDAISY, the girls SheDAISY? Should I expect HeBA MCENTIRE down the line?

Seriously though, the point isn't that, from time to time, I might listen to some SheDAISY. The point is that SheDAISY is the problem. They are "count-pop." They necessitated this label. I blame SheDAISY.

So, maybe we need a new way of labelling genre-defying music. We could call it, "Country That Has Unmistakable Lohan Urges." But that would spell CTHULU, and that would be evil. Top 40 radio is evil enough without the addition of CTHULU.

I suppose "pop-country" would be adequate... it's probably already used. The "preferred term," if you will. There's probably no imminent danger of the term "count-pop" being used at any point in the future. Although, if I've thought of it, this might be thought of by someone else as well, with entirely innocent intentions. It might make sense to them. So maybe, in whatever social circle you frequent, if you hear someone say "count-pop," you should say, "hey, are you referring to SheDAISY, or do I need to punch you in the face?"

I'm just sayin'.