I had no idea that the situation was this dire. I believed that Michael McDonald’s poison had dissipated since his heydey of the 80s, but I see now I was wrong. I had dabbled with irony in my early 20s, but the way today’s youth immerse themselves in it is alarming to me. Michael McDonald saw this irony opening in what was once a pretty formidable fortress that blocked out his evil; saw it and pounced. The following story is not pleasant, but I think you’ll agree that due to current circumstances that I had no choice but to share it with the board.
During Spring Break 1986 my cousin Debbie came to visit, choosing to spend her week away from her small college in Iowa with us. I hadn’t known Debbie that well; she seemed a pleasant enough sort, but at least two times a day she would bust out her cassette of McDonald’s No Looking Back. Often times, after the track Yah Mo Be There played, she would immediately rewind it and play again. It seemed the overall temperature of the house would drop a degree or two after every playing of the cassette. By the end of the week, the house was freezing. It was April, we lived in the high desert of Southern California; we weren’t prepared.
We tried everything to raise the temperature, but to no avail. One day while shopping at Miller’s Outpost, I heard McDonald’s familiar melody come over the store’s system and again felt the chill. I consulted a DJ the next day. He explained that within McDonald’s vocals (even recorded) there are 23 pathogens that aggressively attack and consume soul agents that occur naturally in an ecosystem. He said the only thing to do was to quarantine the place and prescribed a steady diet of Ohio Players, the Meters, and Cameo (it was the 80s) to restore the tainted environment’s soul equilibrium.
Googa, I know dabbling in 80s soul can be fun. That slaphappy Seinfeldian bass mixed with those Casio keyboards, pulling out those record sleeves, looking at all that hair before that what-the-fuck-were-they-thinking moment of realization overtakes us, but Michael McDonald is a different manner all together. He is dangerous.
Update on my cousin Debbie. She lives in a gated community in Scottsdale, Arizona and works as a dental hygienist. Her favorite restaurant is Panda Express and the last time I spoke with her (in 2008) she said she loved this new band and thought I’d really dig them. I asked her what they were called and she replied, “Matchbox 20.” Truth be told, I think we lost Debbie a long time ago. I tell you this, Googa, because I care.