WEEK TWENTY-ONE
"It's A Wise Child!"

The Origin of Canned Peaches

During World War II, a weary American soldier stationed in France was heard to remark:

"I sure wish I had me a nice Georgia peach right about here. I'd start in on 'er real slow-- nuzzle the fuzz... tease 'er... then I'd thrust muh tongue in and out, causing the sweet juice to squirt all over muh hungry, waitin' face-- hoo boy! Why I'd even suck the pit!"

The gears of commerce were quickly set into motion and the result was a kitchen staple that we all know and love. Canned peaches.

Lyrics:

wise child really knows her trivia
quite small but she don't come cheap
might try but they can't get rid of ya
rollin' yer eyes, you gotta start somewhere

dodadoodedooda..

read the whole "new book of knowledge" before she even went to college

WEEK TWENTY
"Cheap Country Town"

I've learned so much about the previous tenants of apartments I've rented by reading their perpetually misdelivered mail. At first I put it back in the box making a note of the delivery mistake but it just keeps happening and there's only so much a person can or should do. After a while RTS doesn't stand for Return to Sender, but for Read That Shit and that's when a chore becomes a treat

Lyrics:

Yer mother was a bright, young, happy thing
a lady and a wife with a face that made birdzzzz sing
Yer daddy was a half-a-billionaire, an up-and-comin' Jew
and a captain of Times Square

Why don't we float down the river, life awaits
Trouble 'round the bend but ya can't stay up past eight

I'll take you down to my cheap country town
Drag you around all the weird shit I found
Blood will be thicker where we aren't the only hicks around

I toldja when I metcha... ain't no man
could make you half as wet like you know I surely can
My daddy was a King Kong shipwreck dude
A saddle and a reign and a cold, mean, wayward fool

Why don't we float down the river..
...
...

We'll slip through the slime and jump out just in time
We'll piss in a jar and break into a car or two

I'll take you down..

WEEK NINETEEN
"Pain is Free"

Yes this project is getting old. BUT... just like the house plant that choked a toddler in Tampa, Florida, new music every week in 2013 CANNOT be stopped. Download the song here: http://bradleez.bandcamp.com/ ...or e-mail me for an mp3.

Lyrics:

one hook that you stole from a book
troll the obscure out-of-print junk
transcribe in cursive all of the mysterious verses
memorize, close yer eyes
you really don't reach anyone you don't preach to
but you reach and you reach..

there's no shame cashing in and vacating
we're all tempted to, believe me
but if you really only want something to feel
here's the deal: pain is real, and it's free
you really don't feel anything that you steal now
so you reach and you reach... and you steal and you steal...

WEEK EIGHTEEN
"Robbed"

quick question... my sister got in a minor car accident (she's OK!)... but she bumped her shoulder and now I can't feel the fingers on her left hand. Is this her problem or mine? thanks in advance

You are INVITED ...to download the song in whatever format you want right here!

Lyrics:

I been robbed, I been robbed
took the corn off my cob
when I woke, I was broke
i been robbed

I reclined in my chair
cuz i thought noone was there
but when i woke, i was broke
i been robbed

Now I blame myself cuz I told myself
that I'd be damned myself
If I ever get another one, I'll never get another one...

It ain't fair, it ain't fair
and the cops don't even care
stole a gun for the peace it provides

Spare a dime, spare a dime
a good job's so hard to find
stick 'em up, fill my cup
I'll be fine

Now I blame society for my insobriety
and my impropriety, now I'll never find another one...

WEEK SEVENTEEN
"Crash & Burn"

Your grandfather cracks nuts with a hammer.

Lyrics:

i can see the bright side
even in a landslide
but the more i live the more i learn
the more i wanna crash and burn, uh huh...

they feedja all the brave hearts
they spare ya all the false starts
and the more i read, the more i learn
the more i juzz wanna crash and burn, uh huh...

long livin' and strong women and
warm safe places, make it seem like
we've come far

sky scrapers and don drapers and dull sensations
make it seem like we've come far

pharmaceuticals, blank and beautiful plastic faces
make it seem like..

WEEK SIXTEEN
"Apology Letter"

Lyrics:

Night time or dawn, whichever one
puts you to sleep is the best, space out a lot
catch yer death. I believe in casually setting aside
what bugs you

Someday I'm gonna feel so much better
cuz I'm a-gonna write an apology letter
i don't care who I spurn or the bridges I burn

Courtesy call, Mr. Sinatra
can I pass you a copy of my 8 x 10?
I can't relate to you today if it was a
very good year

Someday I'm...

WEEK FIFTEEN
"Clean, Clean Livin'"

Lyrics:

While I admire yer clean, clean livin'
yer girlfriend's givin' me chills...
So go drown yer pride in the Mississippi river
and bring me my whiskey and pills

I've been known to get unpredictable and violent
when you threaten the few things that bring me joy
So you better lose that smug self-righteous look of superiority
and stop clicking yer tongue and waggin' yer goddamn finger in my face

I'm a grown man-- I can have a drink or smoke
without it being a cry for therapy or religion
cuz I pay my bills and contribute to society and love my family too...

so go fuck yer moral crusade right up the ass

WEEK FOURTEEN
"You Better Believe It"

One lesson pop culture keeps teaching is that people rarely want what's best for them. So enjoy.

Lyrics:

you better believe
that the timing is right
and the stars in the sky
are aligned white lights
and if history is any indication, in fact
he'll hit hard for yer love but you'll crawl right back
i believe

you better believe it,
you better believe it
he hits hard for yer love
believe

you better proceed
with some caution tonight
cuz the dude in yer bed's
in the mood fer a fight
and if history is any indication of that
he'll hit hard for yer love but you'll come right back
i believe

you better believe it,
you better believe it
he hits hard for yer love
honey, please

on the one hand, he's a sick man
on the otha, he's my brotha

you better believe, you better believe...

WEEK THIRTEEN
"Save Some Face"

So you're taking ZERO responsibility for the stray cat situation around here? Even though that orange tabby you call "Sassafras" is the neighborhood cum dumpster?

Get her spayed.

Lyrics:

Save some face
Nobody taught you to be that way 
You will be haunted by what you say 
and it all seems a little too dangerous 

Change yer ways 
You better pick up the mess you made 
Nobody taught you to be that way 
and it all seems a little too dangerous 

You were ejected from Sunday school 
for yer coarse reenactments of Blue Lagoon 
You are a misanthrope in yer messy room 
and it all seems a little too dangerous 

You got the mouth of a river too 
What a terrible waste of a liver 
You are like a rattlesnake in a petting zoo 
Like a genuine vessel of evil, now 

I was the guy who helped move yer mattress 
over the rail and up to the second floor and 
I didn't anticipate compensation but 
who do I have to blow for a "thank you"? 

Save some face 
Nobody taught you to be that way 
You will be haunted by what you say 
and it all seems a little too dangerous

WEEK TWELVE
"Dorito Dust Pneumonia"

My great grand pee-paw was a Dorito miner during the Industrial Snack Food Revolution. He toiled with his belly in the cheese for a meager wage that barely clothed his five daughters (from six different mothers).

At the time, little was known about the danger of Dorito dust inhalation. Victims of "orange lung" were given over-the-counter palliatives or snake oil that did little to curb the escalating death toll.

The following traditional folk song and documentary video recalls the thankless plight of the Dorito miner who sacrificed his body so that one day we all might sacrifice our own.

WEEK ELEVEN
"Way Down, Irene"

NEWS HEADLINE: Olympics Committee reportedly gives all leftover gold medals to Rod Stewart.

"He's the only one who ever expressed any interest in them, so rather than toss them out, we stuff the leftover medals in a box and he sends a guy to pick them up. It's not like we're doing a private ceremony or anything," says Olympic Committee chairperson Sandra Howley.

But Rod Stewart claims otherwise: "When I get the medals back to my plantation, we perform a large ceremony. My step-children stand on the second and third place blocks, and I accept the gold medals one by one around my hungry, waiting neck. It's a pretty kewl treat for me."

Lyrics:

There's a place where the reckless are bound
We'll be livin' there when they smoke out this town 

I like you fine, Irene 
Can't change my mind about Irene 

She's a mess-- a 100-proof mess 
bullet in her ear, and a book on her chest 

But I like you fine, Irene 
can't change my mind about Irene 

When we wake up, I'll reach out 
to my broken-english friend 
and we'll get a room 
if you really want to... 

I like you fine, Irene...

WEEK TEN
"Gypsy Huggin'"

I will visit you, Mister Wrinkles.

I will empty your ashtrays, Mister Wrinkles.

I will adjust your hairdo, Mister Wrinkles.

I will think of you always, Mister Wrinkles.

Lyrics:

Passed her on the street
She sold limes a dime a piece 
with a cobweb catchin' flies like me 
she's a gypsy from Poughkeepsie, I'm a wreck 

She's a long, wet road and I don't have a change of clothes 

Sings an English song 
but her accent's way too strong 
So I hide my pride between my legs 
She's a gypsy from Poughkeepsie, got me pegged 

She's a long, wet road and I don't have a change of clothes 

Don'tcha mess up yer life on gypsie huggin'

WEEK NINE
"Quest Star"

The new American pope is serving up deep-dish communion bagels with all your favorite premium toppings. Ask about his subs.

Better take a break from ripping off Alice Cooper ("Get Yer Fill" / "Billion Dollar Babies" ... I accept your judgement). Enjoy this palette-cleansing performance from my friend Tom while I try to find my spirit mammal:

WEEK EIGHT
"Open Up Yer Eyes"

Download the mp3 at bandcamp.

Lyrics:

over the ages, we have become
full of outrageous paranoid junk 

open up yer eyes 
don't wait for a good time 
you can analyze and magnify a flea 
until you can't see it 

open up yer eyes 
no such thing as a good time 
you can analyze and magnify a flea 
until you can't see 

it comes in stages over the years 
and it rattles cages and brings you to tears 

open up yer eyes 
don't wait for a good time 
you can analyze and magnify a flea 
until you can't see it...

WEEK SIX
"Toothpicks and Glue"

Lyrics:

Sign a line and yer caught in an ancient scam
Wined and dined on the spot, makes you feel like a big man 

Right away 
my friends were on T.V. 
By the way 
I'm lookin' at you but you can't see me 

Right away 
my friends were on T.V. 

There's a revenue share 
but my dog doesn't care 

Right away 
my friends were on T.V. 
By the way 
I'm lookin' at you but you can't see me 

I'm workin' with toothpicks and glue 
I shoulda gone to trade school 
I'm workin' with toothpicks and glue

WEEK FIVE
"Ain't Too Hard"

I ordered soup at a cafe but I couldn't finish it, so I asked the waitress for a to-go container and she handed me a sponge. "Very funny," I thought. But this made the surly wheels of my imagination turn.

1..2..3..4..
con-cen-trate.
cha cha cha
con-cen-trate.

1..2..3..4..
con-cen-trate.
cha cha cha
con-cen-trate.

[repeat until idea happens]

IDEA # 1: A small dissolvable capsule containing a compressed sponge in the shape of a rooster. When you drop the capsule in hot soup, the outer shell melts away and the rooster sponge expands and absorbs all of the soup so you can carry it around or wring it out into your mouth whenever you want. It's called Cock-a-Noodle-Soup.

Choose life!

Fuck the world,
--bradlee

Lyrics:

I wanna live in yer pocket, girl
I only eat just a little 
it ain't too hard... ain't too hard 

I stick my finger in yer socket girl 
make ya wiggle-- 
it ain't too hard.... ain't too hard 

I'd break my fingers one by one 
for you to skim me like pond scum 

I've been around for a year and a month 
but you don't get the riddle 
it ain't too hard... ain't too hard 

I'll break my fingers one by one 
until you skim me like pond scum

WEEK FOUR
"T.V. Privileges"

"Inexplicably" versus "unexplainably".... Javier wasn't sure which was right, but he called his project FUDBUD for the aesthetic cachet: Music For The Unexplainably Depressed, By The Unexplainably Depressed.

Download the MP3 at: http://bradleez.bandcamp.com/

Lyrics:

I want my T.V. privileges reinstated
I tried yer way and, um... 
I didn't get a thing done, do you? 
I never get a single thing done... 

Only now after everything goes around 
and there isn't anybody left to burn 
it's a lucky thing that we found 
after hours in the shower 

Now it's wreckin' every secong yer away 
every move is a mistake 
That's the only risk you take 

Oh yer mom and dad are old and rattled too 
'cause they don't know what to do and if they did 
they wouldn't do it anyway neither would you... 

Only now after everyone turns around 
and there isn't anybody left to turn 
it's a tricky thing to rebound 
after hours in the show 

Now some dummy tried to steal my clientele 
so I pushed him down a well 
now he's suckin' cock in hell 

Oh my mom and dad are old and rattled too 
because they don't know what to do and if they did 
they wouldn't do it anyway neither would I... 

I want my T.V. privileges reinstated 
I tried yer way and, um... 
I didn't get a thing done, do you?

WEEK THREE
"I Don't Change"

After Timmy died, we kept his bedroom just exactly like the way it was.

Lyrics:

Well...

When I was little I was easily amused 
had a box, had a rock, had a wild imagination 

My education was a haze of malaise but 
I could read, write and everything... 

Repetition isn't easy to beat 
I repeat, I repeat... 
every tune I ever whistled 

And this'll be the death of me, I believe 
dead-alive in a child-like state 

The more that you say that yer life is OK 
and you like it that way 
no you don't because you don't like anything 

The more that you say that you get what you take 
and you give half away 
no you don't because you don't give anything

WEEK TWO
"Nostalgia & Regret"

A man toils without sleep to make a psycho-sexual thing for you. You pick it up and turn it over and put it down and cross your arms as a single drop of cream is expelled from every hole in your quivering body.

Now you can download the songs in whatever format you want at bandcamp. ..or if you want a free mp3 because you're poor and selfish, juzz send me an e-mail and I'll be hookin' yer broke ass up lickity-split.

Fuck the world,
--bradlee

Lyrics:

When the winter thaws inside you
all the boughs that used to hide you 
move away so light can find you 
let the cold wind blow behind you 
every season has a reason, heaven knows 

Every diamond in the gutter 
every window locked and shuttered 
every heart you fail to flutter 
every word you fail to utter 
makes a library of nostalgia and regret 

Wrote a library of nostalgia and regret 
this is what I get 
tried to write my way home 
I know that you never really get what yer owed 
that you'll never catch a kiss I don't blow 
that you like a lighter load... 
you can't always get it, though 

Every coupon in the ghetto 
every calmly drawn stiletto 
every hill you couldn't pedal 
every crack in yer falsetto 
is a nightmare both recurring and severe 

Time will ride you like a beater 
she's a dirty rotten cheater 
she's a lock and you can't pick it 
she's a clock and you can't trick it 
like a library of nostalgia and regret 

Wrote a library of nostalgia and regret 
this is what I get 
tried to write my way home 
I know... that you never really get what yer owed 
that you'll never catch a kiss I don't blow 
that you're never really rich 'til yer sold...

WEEK MATERIAL
week one

What an exciting time for rosy-palmed schoolboys with big glasses, dwindling Halloween acquisitions and zero self-esteem. A cool, dark wind stimulates the budding hair on their collective scrotum. Girls come outta nowhere and, for the first time, they get burned.

Join me for a new half-assed video every week this year. Also in 2013....messin' with a new thing... THE SKYDADDY PODCAST... ooooooo.... aahhhhhhh..... Stay with us, tough guy.

About This Web Site

2012

• This Product
• The Fox and The Wolf
• Beacon Technologies
• Great Moments in Business History
• Thunderbird Online College
  

2011

• How To Stop Music Piracy
• The Professor
• 7010
• My Science Experiments
• My Inventions
• How I Spent My Summer Vacation
• At The Bus Stop
• Why Stand When You Can Sit
• Early Morning at a Country Auction
• Grandma's MP3 Player
• When You Friend Leaves The Room...

2010

• The Three Ugly Sons
• Open Letter To Lunch Thief
• Seventeen Magazine
• Movie Review
• Now, I'm Not a Therapist...
• Dear Mother and Father
• Animal Journal
• The Weary Traveler
• Instant Messenger
• Bankwell Brokely's Obituary
• Julie Couldn't Sleep...
• Bob & Chuck
• Nigel's Rock Band
• Boris Hemlock
• Hey Chuck...

2009

• The Tomato Garden
• The Elevator
• The New Bed
• Merman's Salad
• Bankwell Brokley's Obituary
• Private Mahoney
  

2008

• How To Make Perfect Hard Boiled Eggs Every Time
• Nigel's First Beers
• Suicide Face
• Fuckulele
• New Dog
• Pizza Pony
• Vicky & Walter
• Happy Birthday, Mom
• Doctor Divorsky
• Time Traveler Terry Lord
• Jesus Christ
• Apples
• Shit Parade
• Cooper Tylerson
• Houston's Hottest Country Station
• My Settlement
• Julie
• Tammy & Bob
• Poochy's Buffet
• Brandon's First Day of High School
• Was Hitler a Vampire?

2007

• Brandon's Graduation Speech
• Dollar Barn
• Cave Journal
• Wendy's
• Text to Speech
• The Buskers and The Ratclifs
• My Town
• The Girl and The Snake
• High Life And Valium
• Family Dinner
• Rob's Recordings
• The Money Situation
• My Irish Grandfather
• My Darling Gloria
• Choke Up On The Bat
• Dear Mom
• Police Surveillance Transcript
• Celebrities Who Remind Me of Other Celebrities
• Delirium Tremens
• Letters To The Cow Part II
• Gold Standard Ideas
• Letters To The Cow Part I
• Joanie Kleumfs
• Poems
• Dear Neighbor
• Me & Duke
• Patient Case Study #5B1221
• Bankwell Brokely
• Cam Rodgers' Kid
• The Monster

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