Steel Eyed Dinosaurs

*try to make it to the end, faithful readers… it gets funny I promise! (3) Veronica and Corrie make guest appearances!*
* good song lyrics by a blogger friend here

Dear Steal Eyed Dinosaurs,
This weeks US News and World Report has a section on the emerging problem of phobias in the US. Actually, emerging problem wouldn’t be the best way to put it. The number of diagnosed cases are steadily rising as public awareness and treatment alike are improving. Aside from the enigmatic evolutionary and hereditary factors, which cloak this mysterious illness, the interesting part is that phobias can be physiologically located within the brain. Nobel Prize winner and Columbia University professor Eric Kandel describes it as “the one, the only area in psychiatry in which we have an anatomical substrate.” We know, in other words, where fear lives.

I imagine we all have phobias. The degree to which they affect us varies greatly; some are a minor nuisance while others are debilitating. My personal phobia is one that I can only imagine modern science has hitherto neglected (I say hitherto since many brilliant and influential doctors and researchers alike read my blog religiously (4), and I imagine funding and research surrounding this particular phobia will increase ten fold upon publication).

Lyriconfusionphobia: the fear of chronic misinterpretation of song lyrics

Now I realize that my scientific research into this is flawed in two ways: firstly, it’s in no way scientific. Secondly, I suffer from this debilitating malady myself which inherently taints my ersatz empirical evidence (insert applause for superfluous alliteration here… thank you, thank you, I know it looks easy, but let me tell you, man oh man, it’s not).



Let me share a brief lyrical anecdote, which has been troubling me to no end as of late. I’m not kidding when I say I’ve been loosing sleep over this (Corrie and Veronica can attest to this fact and will if need be). David Gray (seen brooding in above picture), in all his slurred and British vernacular glory, sings an ill-conceived song called Caroline (We call it Corriline, since we, well, love Corrie and she “gets it”). The chorus says one of the following equally absurd things:

-The final war/word, steel like dinosaurs
-The final war/word, still like dinosaurs
-The final war/word, steal like dinosaurs

As if this lyrical gem (by gem I mean lump of coal) was not steeped in enough ambiguity, he has to slur it through his bad British teeth. If my math is correct (1), there are six different possibilities, each very distinct in meaning as well as implications. Obviously, not a single one of these makes sense. Personally, however, I subscribe to the dubious theory that Mr. Gray sings, “The final word, still like dinosaurs.”

What does this mad myth signify? I suppose it probably means (2) the last time they spoke is still like dinosaurs. That made no sense. I’m lost. Where am I? Where do I go to get lunch?

In fact it is safe to say the only part of the song I do understand is the excessive “woooooooooo!” he says half way through this maddening song. And if I dare say so myself, I do a pretty good impression of it (my falsetto is impeccable).

(1) If we go by the rules of induction, it more than likely not
(2) By I suppose it probably means can also be read as I have no f-ing idea what it means
(3) By funny I mean, well, not funny. As I quipped earlier to Veronica, the new funny is not funny. Kind of like the new pink is purple. Did I actually type that? Oh dear.
(4) “Religiously” meaning, sparingly. By sparingly I mean by mistake. By mistake I mean, err, not at all. By not at all, I mean they avoid it at all costs.

Greetings All. Veronica here. For about a week now I have been aware of what Mr. Gray is actually saying. I always thought it was, “The final war, steel-eyed dinosaurs.” Turns out I was right. This is a first for me, and I couldn’t be any prouder. I was so excited that keeping it from Michael has been killing me. This past week has been so stressful in fact that I may be developing an ulcer. Don’t worry about me though, this is Michael’s blog and I don’t want to steal his thunder. (He’s pretending to be a baby dinosaur)
Wearing warm socks,
Veronica Puryear

This is the most ridiculous blog ever and Michael has Jordan spreading out the contents of his wallet in an attempt to reach the backside of the coffee shop to the front door. Whenever people look back here in disgust Michael simply bows and acts as though he was just nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. He is absurd, and so is this blog. That’s why I like it oh so much.
Signed,
Corrie Nelson

This is Michael again… It looks like Veronica and I might have a new addition to our repertoire, who goes by the name Corrie Nelson (see above comment). Also, I must say, and all kidding aside, I have been so fortunate here in regards to meeting really great people, and more importantly, really great friends. My whole theory of moving out here was to meet people who were better than me in hopes that I would be able to become a better and stronger person by simple exposure. Since out here, I’ve met some of the most outgoing, confidents, strong, funny, beautiful, smart, mature, intriguing people I’ll ever be lucky enough to know. I really couldn’t ask for more…

Take tonight (which is every night, by the way)
What could be better than eating at the dorm cafeteria, throwing food at each other, bowing to all the students when I say a word longer than 4 syllables, going to Josh’s apartment, making sarcastic comments and running around outside, snooping through the bathroom, going to the coffee shop only to spend several hours laughing hysterically, pretending to be a baby triceratops, asserting that “my eyes are prettier” in a terrible British accent, and not caring at all what anyone thinks about it, only to come home to a message of my mom laughing and laughing at my newest greeting on the answering machine (it’s great having young parents who understand you and your humor!) and Mother wondering out loud “Just how much money did we spend on you when you lived in Lawrence (KS) for guitar and singing lessons… I don’t mean it in a bad way, but how much Michael?” Sigh. I’m a pretty lucky guy.