Song Of The Day 4/28/2015: Randoms – “Let’s Get Rid of New York”

General Punk Week: For the record, I don’t want to get rid of New York. Far from it. I love New York. I frequently fantasize about living and working in New York so they can get rid of me. I still dream of a pre-’70s NYC, where a girl could work her way up the ranks through pluck, good timing and the most level head you ever saw on a Halston. I’d start in the steno pool, where my problem-solving would get some roguishly handsome but adorably klutzy junior executive out of hot water. He’d take me to Elaine’s, we’d wine and dine, then he’d say, “Gee, Judy, a down-to-earth, top-heavy gal like you shouldn’t be exposed to all this high-paced, dog-eat-dog manliness, let me take you away and store you in a cupboard somewhere in Westchester County.” But on the way we’d stop at a leather good outlet uptown where the inventory manager Festus would ask everyone to leave, take us down to the storage room, then get out some spik…

Aha! You were expecting an interruptive transition here, weren’t you? Something like, “Wait, where am I?” or “Hold on, that’s not right” or what I had planned, which was, “Whoa, did I just say that out loud?” Something quick and dirty that would stop that obviously overplayed dream sequence before right before it hit the payoff, only to yank it out from underneath you. That’s an old writer’s trick! It’s been done millions of times before. It’s going to be done a million times again. Hell, I’m probably going to do it again. That’s because sometimes I get either desperate for ideas, or because I just want to take the creative chicken exit. Well, it’s not going to be that simple this time! I’m not just going to be able to elude the fact that I did not one whit of research about this particular song. If I’m going to talk myself out of it, it’s going to be long and painful for both of us. No more deflections! I’m going to start living my life honorably, through charity, generosity and self-flagellation! Hold my feet to the fire, future children! Don’t let me get away with that crap! Who do you think you are? Who do I think I am? That’s right! We got boxed into this new truncated humor echo chamber that the internet allows only too easily – we’re just going to box our way the hell out of it! Freedom! Attica! Attica!

Anyway, here are Randoms.