Get over yourself

Get over yourself

You're not very bright

It's plain accidental

If ever you're right

Your slim grasp on logic

Gives philosophers fright

Get over yourself

You're not very bright

Get over yourself

You're not very smart

You think you're so precious

With your terrible art

But you're less a Picasso

And more of a tart

Get over yourself

You're not very smart

Get over yourself

You're simply absurd

And not just to me

From what I have heard

Your view of realty's

Constantly blurred

Get over yourself

You're simply absurd

Get over yourself

You're not very sweet

You're not in the kitchen

'Cause you can't stand the heat

As for duplicity

You can't be beat

Get over yourself

You're not very sweet

Get over yourself

You're not very wise

You say that you love me

But we all know that's lies

And when you get caught out

It's such a surprise

Get over yourself

You're not very wise

Get over yourself

You're not very dear

Your plain self absorption's

Abundantly clear

Whenever you're needed

You just disappear

Get over yourself

You're not very dear

Get over yourself

You're so self obsessed

You don't have a thought

That goes unexpressed

Perhaps a psychiatrist

Could say it best

Get over yourself

You're so self obsessed

Get over yourself

You don't run this town

You think you're so open

But your brain has shut down

I simply don't care

If you gossip or frown

Get over yourself

You don't run this town

Ukuleles

I, too, used to be a mocker. 'Ukuleles! Pfft!' I thought. 'A toy, only fit for children and blue rinse ladies.' But, dear readers, there is a phenomenon sweeping the globe. Suddenly, ukes are COOL! And I understand why.

Musicians are prone to taking themselves oh, so seriously. Young women play endless angsty songs in quavery little voices while young men parade their alienation and hurt (and implicit superiority) for the world. And woe unto you if you do not appreciate their art and their pain. 

Guess what? Nobody particularly cares about your interior landscape. Get over yourself.

Music is medicine, but it need not taste awful. Instead, wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where music and laughter went together, where the musician was closer to a clown than a dentist? That world is here, and your passport is a ukulele. You can play anything on a ukulele. You can be enthusiastic, but you will never be serious. 

Check out Jake. Then pick your jaw up off the floor and go buy yourself a uke.