Peer Pressure

Dear Friends,
 

What would happen if an elephant and a bee opened competing tea houses across the street from each other? The new Hard Taco song, "The Agony of the Leaves,” attempts to answer that question without relying on profane redneck tirades, paroxysms of weeping, and other gimmicks employed in most elephant- and bee-themed reality television programs.

Consumer Alerght

Don’t be duped by websites offering to sell you “real” Scottish titles. My brother-in-law was hoodwinked into buying a Scottish title, and while I am the first to admit that “Highland Laird Glenflichich Cock O' the North” looks neat on his driver’s license, I doubt that justifies the $750 he spent on it.

I, on the other hand, have decided to invest splendidly in my family’s future by purchasing a British title. Unlike the Scottish equivalents, British titles are a safe, legal internet commodity. Most importantly, the British variety confer all of the rights and privileges of the peerage.

Tantalized yet? Let's take a look at the benefits of lordship.

Trial by Peers

One benefit of becoming a God-sanctioned peer-of-the-realm is that all British lords are entitled to a “Trial by Peers.” Once I purchase my certificate of aristocracy, I intend to exercise this right all the time.

Picture this: A meter maid (or as they call her in England, a “just-o'er-a-yard maid”) catches me parking my MG in a bike lane. She's furious, but since I am a card-carrying peer, she can't do anything about it. Instead, the Earl of Gloucester, the Earl of Breastminster, and Baron Coventry of Rowington-Upon-Hull must slip on their wigs and convene at the House of Lords to write me the parking ticket.

Unfortunately, the Queen has spearheaded a lobby to abolish the privilege of Trial by Peers. I think she was just steamed about being called up for jury duty for the third time in as many months.

Coat of Arms

All British Lords are granted the right to a coat of arms. My family crest consists of a simple shield flanked by two lions with goats wrapped around their torsos. In the center of the shield, there is a gauntlet holding a bejeweled hammerhead shark by the tail. Below that flies a banner with our family motto, “Ever Fierce,” both in English and in a form of Gaelic that replaces all vowels with the letters cgh.*

Most families display the image of their crest on T-shirts and such. However, if I drop a wad of cash on a genuine legitimate lordship, I want my family crest to be genuine too. I’m mentioning this now, because I may need your help in locating goats that are flexible enough for lion-wrapping.

Audience with the Sovereign

As if you would need any more convincing, the price of an authentic legitimate lordship also includes the right to mingle with the Queen. When it’s my turn, I will not waste the HM’s time by prattling about faith-based taxes and which counties in North Ireland have the mealiest currants. Instead, I will ride with her out to the countryside, place her gently on an outcrop next to a gurgling brook, and ask her to close her eyes. “Your Majesty,” I will say, “Is it not truly magical how many wondrous sounds the world around us makes when we simply stop to listen?”**

The guy selling the titles on eBay hasn’t gotten back to me on how many times I am entitled to demand an audience with the sovereign. If it is only once, I may hold off until Prince Charles is coronated, because QE2 has a touch of high-frequency hearing loss, and might not get as much out of this exercise.

(Dude Looks Like A) Lady Chatterley
Choosing a title is both rewarding and challenging. Not surprisingly, the monikers that come with more vassals or bushier eyebrows tend to be more expensive. Here are some of the ultra-legitimate British titles that I have been considering, divided by price point:

$$

Lord Swift Whitekirk of the Mount
The Right Honourable High Falconer Chaddington Kerfuffle of Foxley
Baron Saint Mortimer Blythe-Cornhole

$$$
Lord Bishop of Thrupennies-upon-Tyne
Baronet Regional Accountancy Lord Protector Thorton-beneath-Thames
Earl Buffingshire of Buffingshire-Buffingshire

$$$$

Dowager Bathgate Fenster-on-Bimble

The Duke of Butterwiggle Ironmongery
High Lord Marquess Floorchester Saint Wets-his-Pants
Her Grace Duchess Slapping Tatties née Wixhamderry of the Fine Fettle

If anyone is interested in going in on one of the pricier titles, please let me know. I would be cool with going halvsies if I could wear the robes of Viscount Wentworth Fop-in-the-Hole on Sundays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and alternate Saturdays.

With warmest regards,

Zach

* Gaelic family motto: “Cghvcghr Fcghcghrcgh.”

** Once I am a peer, I may find myself saying “verily” instead of “truly.”

It's Never Just a Cigar

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for April, "Sleep Stages," concerns three actual dreams I have had within the last year.

The three dreams described in “Sleep Stages” are particularly enigmatic, so the lyrics of this song might be somewhat difficult to decipher (in contrast, you will agree, to every other Hard Taco song.) To avoid alienating anyone, I see no choice but to lash myself to the psychiatrist’s couch and attempt to interpret these dreams.

Without even scratching the surface, you can see it’s all here: Insecurity. Sex. Guilt. Self-loathing. Fear of commitment. A paternal-fetal-navel-fecal-feral complex. Now, let’s see what we get when we thrust the trowel of illumination a little deeper into the spongy burial mound of my submerged mind.

Dream 1: Permission to Run Free

In this dream, there are two blind fish. Fish 1 inquires, "Permission to run free, sir?" Fish 2 replies sternly, "Permission denied! Stapes do not run free."

Possible interpretation:
The stapes is a bone in the middle ear that conducts sound. "Stapes do not run free" probably means that listening to other people talk is keeping me from self-fulfillment.

Meanwhile, the most obvious characteristics of blind fish are that they smell bad and they see poorly. Thus, the failure of the subordinate fish to achieve autonomy signifies my desire to create something that smells good, such as a new line of perfumes. The fact that he is blind indicates that I long to embrace a visual aesthetic, perhaps by designing cool labels for my new line of men's and women's fragrances. "Permission Denied" could have a number of meanings, although I believe my subliminal self is suggesting Permission Denied as a brand name for a heady new fragrance.

Dream 2: Wedding Tables
In this dream, all of the tables at our wedding were decked out in customized white wedding dresses instead of tablecloths. During the prior three years of our engagement, each table dutifully came to the bridal boutique several times per year for fittings.

Possible interpretation:
The three-year engagement is obviously a reference to Cher, who is starting a three-year engagement at Caesar's Palace this May. I'm not sure what the rest of it means, but I am quite certain it has nothing to do with hidden feelings about my marriage, so shut up.
  

Dream 3: Fish Pix
In this dream, I catch fish and have them undergo post mortem plastic surgery to lengthen their bodies. Then I sell pictures of these surgically-enlarged fish on the internet. This obliges a unique customer demographic… perverts who want to look at pictures of REALLY BIG fish. For some reason, I accomplish this with actual surgery rather than just Photoshopping the pictures.

Possible interpretation:

While enlarging fish for the benefit of a bunch of internet deviants is sick (just plain sick, truly), I do have a legitimate interest in ichthyoplastics. As the dream implies, I have been strongly considering harnessing my medical background to open a cosmetic surgery clinic for fish. This is not just for the benefit of a few revolting seafood-fetishists (you make me sick, truly.) No, there are plenty of decent, God-fearing aquarium owners who have legitimate reasons for wanting to remove birthmarks, scars, or signs of aging from their marine companions.

Common procedures include scale transplantation and tattooing, unsightly scale removal, "dorse aug" (dorsal fin augmentation), anal finoplasty (tail lift), and caudal peduncle lateral line operculopexy (folding a fish in half and sewing the gills to the base of the tail). It is even possible for fish to undergo a species change. It isn’t discussed much in polite circles, but there are Oscars who hold a deep conviction that they should have been born Mollies. If a simple surgery could allow them to live the rest of their lives as Mollies, who are we to judge them?

After I wrote this, I used an online dream dictionary to break down each of these dreams. Check out the lyrics to “Sleep Stages” to see the professional interpretations and how they compare to these. If you ask me, they stink.

If, on the other hand, it is you who stinks, try spritzing your neck with a free sample of Permission Denied* for Men.

With warmest regards,

Zach

* Permission Denied is a woody, masculine fragrance reminiscent of oakmoss, bergamot, leather, calluses, salad bark, and tobacco musk. 

The Hard Taco Lyric Writing Workshop

Dear Friends,

  The Hard Taco song for March, "Take Me Home," is the first Southern Rock ballad ever to feature a chorus of women repeatedly shouting the phrase, “By Gum!” If that doesn’t turn you on, you probably have a hormonal problem. I’m not kidding… you should get your oestrotesterol and excretrogin levels checked.

  After 15 years, I'm finally ready to fess up to the source of all the "new" lyrics I come up with every month. I use templates. If you want to try it yourself, print out the sample below, circle the choices that articulate your position on things, and sing them.  When you're ready to write another song, print out the same template and repeat the process.
 

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Template 4: "Sometimes I Feel Like (Cryin' / Dyin')"

I've been banging on your back (door / with a pipe)
Won't you let me (in / go / sleep / in to go to sleep)
I've got a (belly / pocket) full of (whiskey / nickels / troubles)
And a (mind / reason / contract / gift certificate) to (bring / take) you (down / daisies / to a bake sale)

  Sometimes I feel like (cryin' / dyin')
  It makes me feel like (dyin' / cryin')

If I'm to (blame / understand correctly), I (understand / have myself to blame)
But I'm not going to (beg / hold / trust / spank) you (anymore / tenderly / after breakfast)
You know me, I just can't be (satisfied / taken alive / out in the sun too long)
So I'm going to (Alabama / St. Louis / make sweet love) in my beat-up (Chevy / girlfriend's Chevy)

I'm a lonely (freight train / wolf / organ grinder) and I'm off to (chase my dreams / Sweet Vernita / private school)
You can (hurt / feed / sculpt) me,
You can (desert / debrief / delouse) me
You can tell me (lies / bitter lies / scathing hurtful fibs)
But at the end of the (day / line / Bronze Age)
The only thing I've come to trust is (God's love / racial profiling)

  Sometimes I feel like (cryin' / dyin')
  It makes me feel like (dyin' / cryin')

(Baby / Sugar / Your Honor), you're just a (two-timing / big-legged / coal-mining) woman
And there ain't no (shame / point / money) in doing you (wrong / right / in / any favors)

Can't you (see / pretend / disrobe when) I'm on my (knees / deathbed / best behavior)?
Can't you (shake / shave) your (moneymaker / preconceived notions)
And let me (live / die / drink / bake) in (peace / Hell / the pantry)?

  Sometimes I feel like (cryin' / dyin')
  It makes me feel like (dyin' / cryin')

You drive me (crazy / because I have epilepsy)
But I love (you / America / duck / spin class) anyway
I want to be your (handy / back door / pusher / swamp) man
Please, Baby, please (Baby please / don't take your love away / clear the dishes)
 

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With warmest regards,
Zach

Great Minds Taste Alike

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for February is called, "Rattle." Find out for yourself why everyone at the water cooler is talking about it in hushed voices.

SIDE EFFECTS
Me: You look off-kilter today.
You: I took my allergy medicine this morning, and I've felt like a zombie all day.
Me: Yeah, I hate that. (Pause) So I guess that explains the bits of dried blood and scalp on your lips.
You: (Sinking your teeth into my ankle) I can never remember where you keep your brains. Are they in here?

ZOMBIES GETTING LEFT… IN… THE... LURCH
I don't want to reinforce stereotypes, but I defy you dispute the following generalization: zombies are simply not very coordinated. You'll probably never see a zombie throw a lasso, make a lanyard bracelet, or return a ping pong serve. Despite billions of crime-funded dollars in research, modern evil science has failed to engineer a virus that can bring the dead back to life without severely compromising hand-eye coordination.

This has been a great source of disgruntlement for zombies. In fact, I believe that the anger and savagery that zombies frequently exhibit stem from a deep frustration with their inability to participate in group sports.

Zombies have not successfully competed in Olympic-level sports since 1924, when the triathlon officially became swimming, cycling, and running. Prior to that date, the standard triathlon consisted of moaning, dribbling and lurching like a drunk toddler. Inevitably, there would be three zombies shuffling onto the winner’s podium.

Since then, however, athletic events have placed more value on speed, dexterity, and grace. These are not common qualities in the zombie community. For example, no zombie has ever taken home an Olympic medal in ice dancing. The only zombie who tried spent the duration of the three-minute song hacking into her partner’s shins with the skates. The smell of blood on ice attracted a frenzy of other zombies and, of course, hockey players. The event deteriorated into a brawl of face-chewings and body checks. All told it was a real black eye for the Olympic committee.

Zombies fare no better in other events. As walking corpses, they cannot be trusted to steer a bobsled (although they occasionally stumble into an opponent’s sled to consume the opponent). The zombie running long jump record is only eight inches, which is about 30% longer than their standard stride length. Finally, their propensity to hold their arms straight in front of them severely limits the amount of inertia they can give to a shot put.


GREAT MINDS TASTE ALIKE
I am convinced that the inevitable undead uprising can be forestalled simply by instilling zombies with a greater sense of self-worth. We need to get them involved in sports they can play… sports that allow them to feel good about themselves. The more time zombies spend training, the less time they’ll have for swarming through malls and mutilating shoppers.

We can all help out. If you are a high school track coach and a zombie tries out for the team, don't cut him... put him in the relay race! If you space out four zombies on a 400m track, and give one of them a dismembered human foot, there is a very good chance the other three zombies will each take it from him sequentially. The trick is convincing them to do this with a baton instead of a severed limb, and to keep moving instead of stopping to gnaw on it.

What else do we know about zombies that can help us pick the right sports for them? Well, the undead travel in mobs, and innately tend to copy each other's movements. I’m not sure whether this has to do with peer pressure or team spirit, but in either case zombies are perfect for synchronized swimming! If you want to see the ultimate expression of coordinated motion, put eight zombies in a shallow pool and dangle a swinging teenager overhead.

Finally, zombies hordes are often described as "relentless" and "unstoppable." It is these very qualities that make them ideally suited for endurance sports, such as cross-country. This especially holds true when the event consists crossing an entire country. If the race is long enough, living athletes will eventually get fatigued or hungry. Zombies, however, can complete long races without stopping, provided they don't get sidetracked by 1) seeing a person or animal during the course of the race, or by 2) getting beheaded. Plus zombies can eat and eat and they never have to go to the bathroom.

Which probably explains why they walk like that.

With warmest regards,

Zach

A_Cup: omg

Dear friends,

   Happy new year, baby. It's finally Auei. I hope you and your family have a very plentiful, rewarding Auei. That's right, friends, Auei is not just the word of the day, but the word of the year. Auei, (pronounced "Ow-ee") is short for AUght EIght, which, in turn, is short for 2008.

Just look what I heard in an actual chat room:

   Breighleen11: omg its auei
   training_bra: omg
   grease&luv: omfg it auei
   Breighleen11: brb

(1 year passes)

   Breighleen11: omg its auni
   A_cup: omg
   grease&luv: omfg its auni

*Note: Auni will be pronounced "weenie," and it will be an even buzzier buzzword than Auei.

   Anyway, the inaugural Hard Taco song for Auei is called, "Fortress of Lovingkindness." The idea and ideals of lovingkindness are staggeringly simple, yet a leaf blowing in the wind has a greater grasp of it than you do. If you want to understand lovingkindness as much as the leaf, you will have to immerse your heart in devotedness and open your mind in a thousand tender directions.

   One analogy I like to use to explain lovingkindness is a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. Now replace the hat with steadfast radiance and replace the rabbit with heartfelt lovingkindness. Now replace the magician with the rabbit, and have him raise his voice in praise of cherishment and forbearance instead of pulling anything out of something else. Are you starting to get it now? What you're left with is a rabbit who raises his voice in praise of heartfelt lovingkindness, and makes sensitive inroads into steadfast radiance, cherishment, and brotherly rapture-feelings.

   Like I said, lovingkindness is staggeringly simple. The key concept, you will note, is making sensitive inroads. Once you successfully make sensitive inroads, I assure you that you'll get a lot more out of this song, and you can show that blowing leaf what for.

With warmest regards,
Zach

Berserker!

Dear Friends,

   The Hard Taco song for December is called "Oslo." This song is a tribute to the noble Viking berserker.

  The berserkers were the double espresso version of regular Vikings. When a certain mood hit them, they would throw off their armor and fight with an uncontrollable, trance-like rage. They savaged people and animals indiscriminately and fought with no regard for their own lives.  If the berserk fury overtook them when they were on a boat, they would quickly row to shore and wrestle with trees and rocks to prevent them from slaying their own friends.

  If a berserker was walking alone through a field and felt the berserk fury welling up, he would bury his arms in the ground as quickly as possible to prevent him from scratching through his abdominal wall and pulling out his own beating stomach. (Not as dramatic as a beating heart, but easier to remove without tools, especially when one's dexterity is compromised by hysterical anger.)

  In addition to setting an unreachable standard for the magnitude of human rage, berserkers have been credited with innovations in a number of loosely related spheres. It is thought that they pioneered the use of upside-down lampshades around the neck, a practice employed in modern veterinary care. In their case it was to keep them from frenetically chewing into their wives' carotid arteries during a berserk tantrum.

  There are few historical accounts of berserker life. Perhaps the best known is from the Icelandic epic, Hrndgiljob's Saga.

One of the berserkergang, who had the name Lfgeiril, wore a swatch of bearskin tightly around his scalp, for often his forehead veins would explode in the course of berserk conniption. On one such day, he set upon King Thjorb with hands bear. Lfgeiril did lift him bodily and dash him upon the precipice. He next set upon the king's wives and daughters and dashed them upon the same. With much ire, he did step on their necks and shatter them. After the berserk fury passed, Lfgeiril was self-reproachful and did not want to talk on it. There shall be no distraction of the gladdening lute, for the berserker knows he has banished much joy from the kingdom with his poor temper. (Hrndgiljob's Saga, c. 1035)

  In another work, a berserker is briefly mentioned by a dying King Hranjob as he recaps his life:

I have few regrets, but entrusting a berserker to carry my porcelain tureen collection up two flights of stairs was clearly a mistake. (Hervarar Oord, c. 1036) 

  I researched this song extensively, and at this point, I feel fairly qualified to answer any of your questions about how berserkers would react in a certain situation. Please ask! Usually, if you have a question about berserkers, everyone else has the same question!

With warmest regards,

Zach

Daddy Mack'll Make Ya...

Dear Friends,

  The Hard Taco's 10th full length CD, "There There," is here and it is ready for public consumption, misuse, and general soaking up.

  A colleague recently asked me why I still release CD's every year, despite the fact that most contemporary music aficionados get all of their music online in MP3 form. Well, you can't use the reflective surface of an MP3 to signal a passing plane or temporarily blind a would-be rapist, can you? You can’t tie a piece of string to an MP3 covered with two-sided tape, and use it to go fishing for cash/money while hovering over a bank vault that has no ceiling, can you? And you most definitely cannot cut off your hand and serve it on an MP3 to a jilted lover with a note that says, "You already ate my heart for breakfast. Why not have my hand for lunch? Also, I really dig track 4. Check it out if you have a chance (after you’re done eating my hand)."

  To coincide with the release of this album, the Hard Taco song for November is called, "There There There." I encourage you to listen to it!

  "There" is one of a a few words in the English language that assumes alternate connotations when you say it twice in a row. For instance, your grandmother may use phrases such as, My My, Now Now, and of course, There There. If your grandmother is a member of Kris Kross, she may also say Jump Jump, which just means that she wants you to jump twice.

  Sometimes, it's not enough just to say a word twice. Each of these phrases requires the consecutive use of a single word three or more times to impart the appropriate nuance...

When you want to convey:

1. Shame on you, Pharaoh!

2. I request that you, the patrons of this New York state prison, join me in chorus.

3. Dang, that large piece of soft bubble gum is sexy!

4. The scientific name for the Western Lowland Gorilla

5. Hurry up and cleave this combination chemotherapy that contains cyclophosphamide, hydroxydaunorubicin, Oncovin and prednisone.

6. I am surprised, perhaps ironically, to discover that Orson's water hole is no longer ill.

7. I am your grandmother, and it would really mean a lot to me if you would jump twice, preferably on the second and fourth beats of the measure.

Say:

1. Tut, tut, Tut!

2. Sing, Sing-Sing.

3. Hubba-hubba, Hubba Bubba!

4. Gorilla gorilla gorilla

5. Chop CHOP. Chop, chop!

6. Well, well, well... Welles' well's well.

7. Miggety miggety miggety mack! Jump, Jump!

With warmest regards,

Zach