They Took Away My Home, and Replaced it with House

I am hungover and grumpy today.
I am grumpy because the hangovers get worse every year even with fewer beers consumed the night before.

Last night, I accompanied a friend for a deejay-job interview in some club called something-that-I-can't-remember.

And the bar manager was telling him that he should be able to play some "Chill House Music, some Acid House, some farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse. Our fugitive's name is Doctor Richard Kimble."
No wait.
That was Tommy Lee Jones.

Anyway, he said something to that effect, and I was thinking "What the hell?"
What is house music anyway?
When did this stupid genre of music creep up on us?
What the hell happened to music played by musicians?
Like in the 80s, when songs had lyrics that meant something, dammit.

Songs like this one by Toto Coelo:

I eat cannibal
Feed on animal
Your love is so edible to me
I eat cannibals

I eat cannibal
It's incredible
You bring out the animal in me
I eat cannibals

What can you do
You're in a stew
Hot hot cook it up
I'm never gonna stop

Fancy a bite
My appetite
Yum yum gee it's fun
Banging on a different drum

And I eat cannibal
Feed on animal
Your love is so edible to me
I eat cannibals

Got a hunger for your love
(Hot pot cook it up, I'm never gonna stop)
It's all I'm thinkin' of
(Yum yum gee it's fun, I'm banging on a drum)
Give the world a bone
(Roastin vitamin, forget the dietin')
I got steak at home
(I eat cannibals)

See? Now that's a song, dammit.
I want the 80s back.
I want to live again in a world where crimes are solved by a talking car and "if you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... The A-Team."

Nowadays, crimes are solved by CSI.
And if you miss that, there's CSI: Miami.
And if you still haven't got enough, there's CSI: New York.
Seriously, do we need this many CSIs? It's only a matter of time before they franchise out the damn series and we'll get CSI: Perlis, featuring Yusof Haslam in the lead role delivering Dewan Bahasa-approved lines:

Yusof Haslam: Sarjan! Sila lukis garisan putih mengelilingi mayat tersebut dan hantarkan DNA-nya ke makmal di Kangar! Kami mesti memberkas pembunuh ini demi keselamatan rakyat Malaysia, negara kita yang merdeka!

Sarjan: Baik, Tuan!

Not only do I want the 80s back, I want to be my 80s-self again, baggy pants and all.

I want to rush home after school to watch MASK and Muttley. And the Hillbilly Bears (Paw! Paw! That darn racoon done stole our dinner agin!). And later, Manimal. And Automan. And Remington Steele.

I want to turn on the radio and scream "Wo-oh! We're halfway there! Wo-oh! Livin' On A Prayer!" and play air guitar and punch my fist in the air for no good reason.

I want to listen to "Love Songs and Dedications" on Singapore Radio to hear if anyone I know from school has a crappy song dedicated to him, so that I can make fun of him tomorrow (In the pre-Astro days, Johoreans were years ahead of the rest of the country because of Singapore TV and Radio. Nowadays, Johoreans are mainly just wet.)

I want to hang out with my friends in the back of the Maju Bus on my way back from school, peering out the window at Convent Girls who are sitting in an...ahem..."unladylike" manner on the benches facing the main road. (Actually, this is a completely unnecessary paragraph dedicated to Leen Ash Burn and Ylanda. Heh heh.)

I want to hang out at the Post Office Bus Stop (affectionately known as PO) and the ais-kacang shop near PO (what the hell was the name of the shop? I can't believe I can't remember).

I want to take Maths tuition from Annamalai on Friday Nights at the Bukit Chagar flats, and then, along with my tuition-mates, make crank-calls from the public-phone downstairs.

Crank-Call Flashback

We used to call up our school prefects at night and tell them that a bunch of us were coming to their house RIGHT NOW in cabs to whack them up.
Then we'd call about 15 cabs and send it to their house.
Ah, the simple joys of juvenile humour.

I want to be a kid who dreams of being a published writer, not an unpublished writer who dreams of being a kid.

Stupid 2007.
Stupid House Music.
Stupid CSI.
Stupid hangover.

I need a drink.


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Discussion Question:

Last night, I also went to Hard Rock Cafe. The last time I went there was probably 5, 6 years ago. The price of a jug of beer there is now 73 Ringgit. My question to you is:
What the fuck?