Dare to be stupid

No one writes a love song like Weird Al Yankovic.

You make me wanna hide a weasel in my shorts
You make me wanna phone home
You make me wanna write a dozen book reports
Then pack myself in styrofoam
Sometimes you make me want to build a model of the Eiffel Tower out of Belgian waffles

He writes for, and as, the shy-yet-infatuated guy that she doesn’t know exists:

How can you ignore me when you know that I can’t live without you
I have to go through your garbage just to learn more about you

Melanie, ooh
Oh sweet Me-he-he-helanie
Why won’t you go out with me

He writes lyrics that can be compared to none less than William Shakespeare:

You’re sort of everything I ever wanted
You’re not perfect, but I love you anyhow
You’re the woman that I’ve always dreamed of
Well, not really, but you’re good enough for now

And from time to time he’s just plain sweet:

Do you remember sweet Michelle
She was my high school romance
She was fun to talk to and nice to smell
So I took her to the homecoming dance

…but in that sweetness there’s an undercurrent of the sort that led to movies like Carrie…

Then I tied her to a chair and I shaved off all her hair
And I left her in the desert all alone
Well sometimes in my dreams
I can still hear the screams
Oh I wonder if she ever made it home

The ultimate Al love song, though, isn’t a love song at all. Back in high school a lipsync version won Bob Cates, Tony Gryner, Ian Coulthard, Sarah Dodge and me first prize in the North Lambton Secondary School air band competition. (Sadly, all of the photos and video of the event were destroyed in a curiously specific set of fires.) That song?

One More Minute.

Aaahh
Aaahh

Well I heard that you’re leavin’ (leavin’)
Gonna leave me far behind (so far behind)
‘Cause you found a brand new lover
You decided that I’m not your kind (aahh…)

So I pulled (I pulled) your name out (name out) of my Rolodex (oohh…)
And I tore all your pictures in two
And I burned down the malt shop where we used to go
Just because it reminds me of you (dippity dippity doo, yeah)

That’s right (that’s right) you ain’t gonna see me cryin’
I’m glad (I’m glad) that you found somebody new
‘Cause I’d rather spend eternity eating shards of broken glass
Than spend one more minute with you

I guess I might seem kinda bitter
You got me feeling down in the dumps
‘Cause I’m stranded all alone in the gas station of love
And I have to use the self-service pumps

Oh, so honey, let me help you with that suitcase
You ain’t (you ain’t) gonna break my heart in two
‘Cause I’d rather get a hundred thousand paper cuts on my face
Than spend one more minute with you

I’d rather rip out my intestines with a fork
Than watch you going out with other men
I’d rather slam my fingers in a door (yeah)
Again and again and again and again and again

Oh, can’t you see what I’m tryin’ to say, darlin’…

I’d rather have my blood sucked out by leeches (leeches)
Shove an icepick under a toenail or two
I’d rather clean all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with my tongue
Than spend one more minute with you

Yes, I’d rather jump naked on a huge pile of thumbtacks
Or stick my nostrils together with crazy glue
I’d rather dive into a swimming pool filled with double-edged razor blades
Than spend one more minute with you

I’d rather rip my heart right out of my ribcage with my bare hands
and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it ’til I die
Than spend one more minute
With you

Aaaahhh ooooo

And with that, nothing more needs be said.