I now have official proof that karaoke, besides being generally silly, can actually be harmful.
For those of you who do not know what karaoke is, it is something wherein people (usually drunk) sing popular songs (usually like "Ice Ice Baby"), aided by background music (usually which sounds like it was recorded by stoned musicians) and words on a TV screen (which make you realize how truly stupid some of your favorite songs are) in bars and other public areas.
Karaoke is actually a Japanese invention, invented in the late 1950s by famous Japanese inventor Signius L. Perklewing (1861-1994). He came up with the invention after he realized the people in the local bars were not making big enough fools of themselves. In a moment of genius (or sadism), he then decided it would be a kick in the pants to get intoxicated gents and dames to publicly sing songs that they have no business attempting to sing, even in a soundproof shower.
Well, I never imagined that I would find myself attempting to sing karaoke. But that is exactly what I was doing Thursday night.
It started after softball practice. We were coming off our last game in which our team set several world records in getting pummeled. Several of my teammates wanted to wipe that memory from their minds, so we decided to turn to our softball team's official drink, that being 2-for-1 pitchers of beer at Sparky's Sports Bar and Grill.
The roster for this beer-guzzling attempt-to-forget session, besides myself, was Tribune Sports Editor Ben Kwasney, Sears dude Brent Patrie, News & Review Calendar Editor Kelley Lang, and her husband, Dave Anderson. I, being a non-drinker, chugged my Coke (the soda, not the illegal drug, thank you) as my teammates swigged their beer. We had delightful conversation, ranging from how horribly our team got smacked to how horribly our team was probably going to get smacked next week.
As we chatted, the karaoke people started setting up the equipment. As the first intoxicated souls started making asses out of themselves, someone in our group -- really do not know who -- made the suggestion that Kelley get up and sing a song. (She was the likely karaoke candidate because it seemed Kelley was really enjoying her beer.)
We got a karaoke song book and started flipping through it. I made a sincere effort to convince Kelley to sing the Barney theme song ("I love you, you love me, I really have to take a pee"). This failed, and after a great amount of time, Kelley started wussing out.
Then -- and I have no excuse for this, since I was completely sober -- I then suggested we all do a song together. I know, I know; I have already made an urgent appointment with my therapist.
After a great deal of hemming and hawing, we decided we would sing "Love Shack" by the B-52s. This is one of my favorite songs, with completely sensible lyrics such as:
Sign says: Woo! Stay away fools
Cause love rules at the Loo-oo-oove shack
With hesitancy, four of us (Dave, showing a modicum of sense, absolutely refused to join the rest of us) signed up. As we waited our turn, our stomachs churning as we realized what we had done, we watched -- I am not making this up -- a child, about 9 years old, sing a song about Kenny, from "South Park," getting killed in a gangsta street fight. Considering this happened in the middle of a bar about 10 p.m. at night, I am not sure what this says about our society. But that's whole different column.
Anyway, it was then our turn. I will not say much about our performance, except to say that Dave is now rumored to be considering a divorce from Kelley, because he does not want to be seen in public with her or any of the rest of us.
And besides the turmoil this caused the Anderson-Lang marriage, it has also caused me some harm. It can not be a coincidence that my car was broken into -- and my B-52 compact disc stolen -- shortly after this karaoke performance.
So, I have this advice to give: When debating karaoke, just say "no." It can only cause harm. Vehicle burglary, marital discord -- it can happen. And I am sure if Kenny had been at the performance, we probably would have killed him off, too.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation who hopes his karaoke performance was not taped for future blackmailing purposes. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays; he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.