MUSICAL BUOYS of SUMMER

By Belinda M. Paschal

Thursday marked the beginning of summer and I can't think of a better way to celebrate than in song. Actually, I can think of a better way, but I'm not paid to sit around drinking beer in my underwear. (To be clear, the beer's in a bottle, I'm in my underwear.)

Besides the Martha Reeves and the Vandellas tune quoted above, scores of songs serve as a sensational seasonal soundtrack: "Under the Boardwalk" by The Drifters, Sheryl Crow's "Soak Up the Sun," almost anything by The Beach Boys, Alice Cooper's "School's Out" — the year-end anthem at my high school — and no summer is complete without wastin' away in "Margaritaville" courtesy of Jimmy Buffett.

The list is infinite, but for this column, I'm sticking to songs with "summer" in the titles. Here's my list of 10 songs — in no particular order — that get me in a summery mood.

1. Summer In the City: The Lovin' Spoonful's 1966 hit initially was a poem by frontman John Sebastian's brother, Mark. Back of my neck's gettin' dirty and gritty just thinking about it.

2. Hot Fun in the Summertime: The best rendition of this often-recorded song came from Sly & the Family Stone in 1969. Crank the volume and boop-boop-ba-boop-boop when ya want to!

3. In the Summertime: Mungo Jerry's sole U.S. hit has endured for more than three decades. Reggae man Shaggy put the song back on the charts in 1995.

4. Summertime: Before he was king of the big screen, Will Smith was the Fresh Prince. With DJ Jazzy Jeff, he scored this No. 1 hit that won a Grammy and sampled another seasonal serenade, Kool & The Gang's "Summer Madness."

5. Summertime Blues: Eddie Cochran's gritty rocker about how parents just don't understand has been remade by numerous artists with rebellious reputations, including The Who, Joan Jett and notorious renegade Olivia Newton-John.

Speaking of the oldest high school senior in filmdom ...

6. Summer Nights: Newton-John played Sandy to John Travolta's Danny Zuko in the movie adaptation of the musical Grease. Tell me more, tell me more, indeed!

7. Summertime: Of the 2,600-plus covers of George Gershwin's classic from "Porgy and Bess," Janis Joplin's boozy, bluesy remake is the perfect backdrop for a lazy summer day.

8. The Boys of Summer: Don Henley's melancholy single debuted closer to winter — November 1984 — but its images of brown skin shinin' in the sun and a convertible with the top down are unmistakably summer-esque.

9. All Summer Long: No "summer" list would be complete without at least one song by the quintessential boys of summer, The Beach Boys. Just throw on your "T-shirt, cut-offs and a pair of thongs," and surf's up!

10. Summer Breeze: This gentle tune never fails to make me feel fine, blowin' through the jasmine in my mind. Whatever happened to Seals and Crofts, anyway?

Honorable mentions: "Summertime, Summertime" (The Jamies); "Summer of Love" (The B-52's); "Summer Girls" (LFO); "Endless Summer Nights" (Richard Marx); "Cruel Summer (Bananarama); "Happy Summertime" (R. Kelly featuring Snoop Dogg); "Suddenly Last Summer" (The Motels).

By no means is this list complete. In fact, I could go on for pages, but there's a brewski and a pair of skivvies with my name on 'em.

Jordin sparks heavy debate

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Hollywood’s obsession with body size has been weighing on my mind for a while, but I couldn’t find the words to express my thoughts. That is, until a recent Fox News segment illustrated why this obsession persists and why starlets are shriveling to shred of their former healthy-looking selves.

Last week, newsman Neil Cavuto wasted airtime on MeMe Roth, founder of National Action Against Obesity and organizer of the Wedding Gown Challenge, which exhorts women to prove they can still fit their bridal dresses. Roth suggested that Blake Lewis should have won American Idol instead of 17-year-old Jordin Sparks because of the latter’s size, which Roth deemed "obese."

Not that it needs to be said, but Jordin is far from obese. She's not an underfed waif, but she’s no Ruben Studdard, either. (And so what if she was?) Jordin's what's known in some circles as "thick" – voluptuous, curvy and packing a few extra pounds, but in all the right places.

According to Roth, Jordin’s weight makes her a poor role model and she fears kids will want to be like her. What, talented and successful? I can think of worse things to be – like a smug, mean-spirited twit.

"When I look at Jordin … I see diabetes, heart disease, high cholesterol," Roth said. "She is the picture of unhealth."

When I look at MeMe Roth, I see a self-absorbed, judgmental bully who undermines the purpose of the organization she represents. Yes, there's an obesity epidemic in America and we need effective solutions to this problem. But while Roth champions an important cause – good health and fitness – her strategies leave a lot to be desired.

One contributor to the epidemic is lack of sufficient scorn for overweight people, claimed Roth, who’s boycotting Redbook for its March cover story, "We Love Your Body From Size 2 to 20." Roth even says people should drop heavier friends like a hot, buttered potato with sour cream. "(They’re) more likely to suggest a Starbucks topped with whipped cream than your fit friends who might think a yoga class or quick jog sounds fun," she writes on her blog. "It’s no different than alcoholics avoiding drinkers."

Hate to break it to ya, Meems, but my thin friends rank yoga and jogging right up there with stoning, branding and bamboo shoots under the fingernails.

What drives MeMe? A compliment from her own idol back in her groupie days. "In the 80’s, I was Van Halen’s #1 fan … (I got) to meet the band. Eddie Van Halen made me promise I’d never get fat. He said I looked like something out of Playboy."

Yeah, a bookmark.

Furthermore, what qualifies her to say who’s unhealthy? Does she have access to the medical records of every overweight person in the country? I’m the first to admit I could stand to shed some pounds, but my blood sugar, heart and cholesterol are better than that of several skinnies I know.

Ms. Roth, eat a donut or 12 and relax. You're no American idol yourself.

HEY, KIDS ... GET YOUR LEARN ON!

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

These kids today – with their hippity-hop and their rock and/or roll– what are we gonna do with ‘em? From the Ice Age to the Electronic Age, adults have been shaking their heads and asking that question. When I was younger, they were talkin’ ‘bout my generation. People tried to put us down. Just because we sat around (watching the MTV).

Now it’s my turn.

I believe most kids are good, decent and capable of great intelligence. But we’re faced with a generation whose thirst for knowledge has been dampened by technology and the prospect of exerting a little effort. If it can’t be popped into the X-Box or the Wii and fed to their brains in high-definition SurroundSound, why bother?

While working on a geography report, a friend’s kid asked me, "Is Puerto Rico in California?" I replied, "Look it up." She responded, "If I have to look it up, I don’t need to know," before turning back to her all-important Google search for pictures of shirtless teen heartthrobs.

Another kid I know got a D because she couldn’t recite the Preamble to the Constitution. She defended the grade as acceptable because it wasn’t an F. "It’s still a passing grade," she said. "Besides, I can’t remember all that stuff!" Then she switched on her Snoop Dogg CD and proceeded to drop it like it was hot – without missing a word.

It saddens me when anyone, especially a child, closes the door to learning because it takes a little work. It’s criminal when a kid knows more about American Idol than American history, when they can quote Linkin Park but not Abraham Lincoln, when they can do the Harlem Shake, but have never heard of the Harlem Renaissance.

Sure, I was a teenager once. I had my idols and knew their every vital statistic (Andy Gibb, born Andrew Roy Gibb, March 5, 1958). But I also knew that Kansas’ Carry on, Wayward Son was drawn from the Greek myth of Icarus and that Freddie Mercury’s homeland of Zanzibar was once an independent African state, but united with Tanganyika in the ‘60s to form Tanzania.

Was I a freak of nature? Yeah, but I also kicked butt in Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy. Today’s ultra-hip crowd would surely deem me a "geek," a "dork," a "herb," or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying all kids have no interest in enriching their minds; I know many who do. But we – society, the media, parents, adults in general – make it easy for them to sell themselves short. These days, information is literally at their fingertips. It’s not like back in our day, when we had to actually turn pages!

Real life isn’t The OC or Dawson’s Creek, where 45-year-old writers put 35-year-old wisdom in the mouths of 25-year-old actors playing 15-year-old kids. It takes a village not only to raise children, but to educate them in and out of the classroom.

Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s dangerous. The more our kids know, the more prepared they’ll be for a world that’s one part playing field, two parts battlefield. They need to be armed. And I don’t mean with bullets.

Summer is open season for TV

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Summertime – and the livin’ is easy, but the viewin’ is repetitive. Though we’ve just entered May Sweeps, it won’t be long before the summer TV season is upon us, that time when many shows go on hiatus, which I once thought was a sort of hernia, but have since learned is from the Latin hi- ("Hello") -atus ("We’ve gone to lunch for three months, please leave a message after the beep").

Rerun season does have its advantages. For one, it gives viewers a chance to catch episodes of their favorite shows they may have missed the first time around. Secondly, it draws new viewers to shows they’d never watched before. It’s also when networks unpack their summer replacement shows, a few of which are worth staying inside to watch. Summer TV has brought the good – Happy Days, Seinfeld, Entourage, Northern Exposure), the bad (I Want to Be a Hilton), and the downright ugly (Being Bobby Brown).

But sometimes the summer pickings can be pretty slim and often, the new stuff is a variation on the old - different actors, different locales, same premise. By next year, we could be watching CSI: Miamisburg, ‘cos every other U.S. city will already have its own version of the show.

What the heck, let’s throw another Law & Order on the pile! Only instead of the seamy underbelly of NYC, this one could be set in L.A. And instead of nabbing street thugs and white-collar villains, the good guys could take down celebrities who run afoul of the law. Who wouldn’t want to see a reenactment of Paris Hilton’s upcoming stay in the slammer? I’ve even thought up the perfect name for the show: Law & Order: SVU (Spoiled, Vacant, Untalented).

Here are a few more shows that could make summer viewing more entertaining:

4S*T*A*S*H – A "medicinal pharmaceuticals specialist" (Snoop Dogg) devises increasingly novel methods of smuggling his homegrown remedies through airport security.

4Big Brothel – Heidi "The Hollywood Madam" Fleiss plays herself in this comedy-drama. Charlie Sheen appears in a recurring role.

4The Courtney Love Boat – Come aboard, she’s expecting you. But be afraid. Be very afraid.

4Beauties and the Beasts – Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio. Ric Ocasek and Paulina Porizkova. Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley. Avril Lavigne and Deryck Whibley. Jay-Z and Beyonce. Mick Jagger and every woman he’s been with. Barbara Walters takes an in-depth look at these and other celebrity couples in an attempt to solve a mystery that has long puzzled men all over the world: How do guys who can kindly be called "handsomeness-challenged" land these überhotties?

4‘Bama’s Family – This laugh-a-minute comedy centers around a squabbling Southern family headed by Clem Jenkins (Barack Obama). Carol Burnett co-stars as his ornery wife Eunice.

4American Midol – They’re bloated! They’re cranky! They’re opinionated! Rosie O’Donnell and Roseanne Barr are the judges in this new edition of the popular talent competition. You can bet Sanjaya won’t make it past the audition stage. Even if he brings chocolate.

4Pimp My Bride – Kevin Federline stars as a guy who rides his wife’s coattails to fame and uses her millions as his primary source of income. Now that I think about it, I’d better throw in a sassy neighbor kid and a loveable alien. Otherwise, it might be mistaken for a reality show.

45 Ways to Leave Your Lover

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Recently, I heard a song I hadn’t heard in a long time, Paul Simon’s mid-70’s hit, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. It’s bothered me for years that, despite insisting “there must be 50 ways,” he lists only five: 1) Slip out the back, Jack; 2) Make a new plan, Stan; 3) You don’t need to be coy, Roy; 4) Hop on the bus, Gus; 5) Just drop off the key, Lee.

I don’t know if this resulted from a counting disability or lazy songwriting, but Simon shortchanged folks who don’t know how to stick a fork in a relationship when it’s done. What if there’s no back through which to slip, your “new plan” was to be coy, the bus drivers are on strike and you lost the key? Without those 45 other ways to guide them, imagine how many poor sods have lingered in loveless liaisons for the last three decades.

To pay off ol’ Paul’s debt, I’ve completed his list. Here are 45 additional ways to leave a lover, rendered Hollywood style – because if anyone needs relationship counseling, celebrities do.

1. Have a head-shaving fit, Brit
2. Find a wife with more bread, K-Fed
3. Try to lay low, J-Lo
4. Feed him to a piranha, Madonna
5. Say, “I’m done with this whole dad bit,” Brad Pitt
6. Leave him with the bambina, Angelina
7. Tell him to sit and spinneth, Gwyneth
8. Pay her one million-fiddy, P. Diddy
9. There’s no reason to dally, Halle
10. Shake her off like a leech, Cheech
11. Tell her, “So long,” Chong
12. Put him on the back burner, Tina Turner
13. Say you won’t be phonin’, Conan
14. Run ‘er up a flagpole, Haley Joel
15. Make her yesterday’s news, Cruise
16. Lose the dead weight, Kate
17. Drive him stark raving loopy, Whoopi
18. Give her that steely-eyed squint, Clint
19. Drop him off a pagoda, Dakota
20. Step on the brake, Timberlake
21. Treat him like a pariah, Mariah
22. Tell her you’re gay, Clay
23. Something’s gotta give, Liv
24. Wash him out like a stain, Twain
25. Write him off like a story, Tori
26. Let him know he ain’t yo’ man, Lohan
27. Put her in the past tense, Prince
28. Take back the ring, Sting
29. Don’t let him bore ya, Longoria
30. Call him a dud, Ashley Judd
31. Let him off the hook, Brooke
32. Slip a mickey in his drink, Pink
33. Shrug him off like a shawl, RuPaul
34. Pay someone to break up for you ‘cos you’re an heiress, Paris
35. Blow him off like a breeze, Charlize
36. Say “Sayonara,” Ciara
37. Admit you can’t handle ‘er, Sandler
38. Stop leading her on, Vince Vaughn
39. Scratch her like a bad rash, Slash
40. Get a new fiancè, Beyonce
41. Make him disappear-a, Shakira
42. Cut him out like a tumah, Uma
43. Keep on being wacko, Jacko
44. Kiss her/him goodbye-a, Sanjaya
45. Just find a spouse, Mickey Mouse.

Personally, I highly recommend #45 because there’s one surefire way to end a Hollywood relationship: Get married.

Today's lyrics are so much junk (in the trunk)

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

You’d think that people would have had enough of silly song lyrics. But I look around me and I see it isn’t so – oh, no. Some singers want to fill the world with silly song lyrics. And what’s wrong with that, you’d like to know?

The answer to that question is My Humps by The Black Eyed-Peas. It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it, but listening to the words will reduce your IQ by 10 points each time Fergie coos, “My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps.”

You’re sexy and confident, Fergie – I get that. But “lady lumps” sounds like something you’ll need a two-week course of antibiotics to clear up.

Yes, I know songwriting is hard, and I’ve never written a hit, and these people are richer and more famous than I can ever hope to be. But you know the saying: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, write about those who do.” So as long as there are bad songs being written, there will be snarky columnists taking potshots at ‘em. It’s a tradition dating back to the caveman days, when the first song set to words evoked the response, “Og, you not quit day job, okay?”

Some tunes are famous for their god-awfulness, like Muskrat Love with its frolicking rodents and the pièce de résistance of lousy lyricism, Zager and Evans’ In the Year 2525, with its grim predictions for the future. Even legends like The Beatles warbled their share of nonsense – e.g., the “goo-goo-ga-joob” refrain in I Am the Walrus. But they were zonked to the gills on acid, so it probably seemed profound at the time.

Recently, Spinner.com offered its “20 Worst Lyrics Ever” list, featuring a couple that earned rightful membership in my personal Hall of Shame:

* Shakira, Whenever, Wherever - “Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don’t confuse them with mountains.”

Ah, that explains why I saw Dolly Parton wearing a “No skiing allowed” sign the other day.

* Puff Daddy and Mase, Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down - “Young, black and famous/With money hangin’ out the anus.”

There’s just not enough brain bleach in the world to erase this image from my mind. Other chestnuts from my personal archives:

* Men Without Hats, Pop Goes the World – “Every time I wonder/Where the world went wrong/End up lying on my face going 'ringy-dingy-ding-dong'!”

Every time I wonder/Why these lyrics are wack/I come to the conclusion/That the writer smokes crack.

* Van Halen, Why Can't This Be Love – “Only time will tell if we stand the test of time.”

Funny thing about time: It takes time to happen. What with it being time and all.

* John Mellencamp, Small Town – “I cannot forget from where it is that I come from.”

Mr. Mellencamp, this is the Grammar Police. You’re under arrest for abusing a preposition, which is something you should never end a sentence with … sir.

Speaking of grammar – or more specifically, spelling – Fergie is proving to be a repeat offender. In another self-congratulatory anthem, Fergilicious, backup singers repeatedly proclaim the singer is “t-a-s-t-e-y.” Just seeing that in print makes my brain c-r-a-z-e-y.

Maybe I should cut Fergie some slack. After all, she launched a successful solo career practically seconds after the Peas broke into the mainstream. Even more admirably, she kicked a nasty methamphetamine habit. Now if only she’d get hooked on phonics.

RIDERS ON THE STORM

By BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Rock stars. They’re just like you and me. Except for the global fame, money and groupies. OK, scratch the groupies … a few privileged "regular" folks – for instance, certain über-cool newspaper columnists – are privy to the rabid adulation of enthusiastic female fans (translation: middle-aged ladies at my church).

Groupie love aside, music performers are lavished with luxuries unlike no other breed of human, including film/TV stars. Much of this indulgence is due to a little piece of paper that says they can have what they want, when they want. It’s called a rider and it’s pretty much the pre-nup of concert negotiations.

The rider is the part of the artist’s contract outlining facilities and amenities the concert promoter must provide before, during and after a show. Besides lighting, sound systems and other equipment needs, this list includes food, beverages and in some cases, animals. Hey, you never know when Ozzy Osbourne might have a sudden craving for bat's head soup.

The most infamous rider is Van Halen’s "no brown M&M’s" clause. Actually, there was a method to the band’s madness. Touring with elaborate, complex equipment left no room for mistakes, so they issued meticulous set-up instructions for safety and liability reasons. In the middle of the contract was the proviso to remove all brown M&M’s from the group’s candy bowls. If there were no brown M&M’s, the band reasoned, the promoter had read the contract thoroughly and the show would run smoothly and free of technical errors.

Unfortunately, the shrewd thinking behind Van Halen’s legendary rider got lost in the translation. What remained was a seemingly outlandish, spoiled-brat command that has influenced many of today’s artists to go overboard with their eccentric and egocentric demands.

Backstage riders are intended to give the artists the comforts of home and then some. Requests range from the ordinary – sandwiches, fruits, bottled water and other beverages, towels, ironing boards – to "oh, puh-leese!" – e.g., P. Diddy’s behest for napkins with his name printed on them. That’s no small order, considering his name could change before the ink dries.

Some rider requests belie the performers’ senses of humor. For instance, ‘70s rockers Foreigner asked for a dozen blueberry pies for an end-of-tour pie fight – a much sweeter way to blow off steam than say, bashing a paparazzi vehicle with an umbrella.

Shock rocker Marilyn Manson requires that his dressing room be air-conditioned practically to sub-Arctic temperatures. Now we know how he maintains that flawless, Night of the Living Dead pallor. Manson also asks for Kool-Aid – the next-best thing to pig’s blood – and gummi bears, so he can savor the sweet, sweet tang of their sugary blood as he tears into their soft, gelatin flesh.

On one tour, singer-rapper Pharrell demanded 20 crates each of Bacardi Rum and Grey Goose vodka, 15 magnums of Perrier champagne, a troupe of belly dancers and a Rolls Royce with driver. Who does he think he is … P. Diddy?

You can read more backstage riders at http://www.thesmokinggun.com/backstagetour/, which lists the requests of some 200 performers. In the meantime, I need to go call my groupies. Hey, somebody’s gotta dispose of those brown M&M’s for me.