Grapefruit Teeth: A Compendium of Industrial Dixieland Tone Poems for Fiddle and Fire Hydrant, Chapter 1: Rise of the Hyena People

by Kobi LaCroix

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Jace McLain
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Jace McLain "Look Directly at the Floating Polystyrene Head" might be the druggiest song on the FuMP and this is coming from the guy in the psychedelic nerd band. Favorite track: Look Directly at the Floating Polystyrene Head.
Eclectic Lee
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Eclectic Lee Kobi's debut effort is outstanding! So many catchy songs! The floating polystyrene head says you must buy this album. Favorite track: We Are the Vikings.
Jared Clark
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Jared Clark You're either going to like this or not. There's little middle ground here. Great sense of humor and parody that avoids eye-rolling jokes in favor of playful nonsense. Favorite track: I Have a Tuba.
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This is a collection of several comedy songs written and recorded by Kobi between 2009 and 2012. Many tracks have been remastered, and some parts have been rerecorded.

Although these songs have all been released previously, each one is new in some way. Most of the songs have been remixed with improved EQ and compression for a clearer, tighter sound. Some songs have had new instruments added, some timing issues have been fixed with the vocals, and in some cases, the vocals have been completely rerecorded. Some especially noteworthy changes are in the song "IHOP", where the parts have been rearranged in binaural stereo, and in "Facial Hair", where just about everything has been redone. "We Are the Vikings" also features an alternate middle section, created specifically for this EP.


released June 18, 2012

Tracks 1, 2, 3, and 7 recorded at the Emu's Nest, Oregon
Tracks 4, 5, 6, and 8 recorded at Absent Lute Studio Arkansas

Special Thanks to Threetails, Emoburd, DJ Particle, ShoEboX, the FuMP, Dementia Radio, beer, that blue fuzzy thing that lives under the fridge, and weird music fans everywhere.



Track Name: Bowling Alley Idiot
I get up in the mornin', and it's the first thing on my brain
The old bowling lane, it's callin' me again.
When I shower, my shampoo smells like rosin and urethane
Like the old bowlin' lane, the cause of all my pain.

I can't hear music on the radio or the voice of my ol' lady, no
The only sound I hear is crashin' pins
It's a sin
I can't even begin to explain
my obsession with the ol' bowlin' lane

Well, them bowlin' pins are callin', and I'd like to smash 'em all in the face, ooh yeah
But I ain't never had the skill to make a single pin move, and where there used to be a gutter there's a mile deep groove
My approach is reminiscent of a crippled hippopotamus; the balls are all too heavy, and my fingers never fit
Well, I may not get better, but I'm way too dumb to quit, so all you critics can make like the 7 and the 10 and split

'Cause I'm a bowlin' alley idiot (bowlin' alley idiot)
Bowlin' alley idiot, I'm out of control
I become a whole new person with my digits in them holes, singin'
Bowlin' alley idiot, roll, stupid, roll!

Yeah! I got some oversized loafers and a brand new pair of Brunswick gloves, oh yeah
I got a porn mustache, a perm, and pinstripe jumpsuit on; I look just like John Oates and Bozo's illegitimate spawn
But if I wanna go professional, I gotta make 'em all see; gotta stop rollin' like I've got cerebral palsy
'Cause I'll be struttin' to the lane, and then I'll recall that in my frenzy to look fancy, I forgot to get a ball

'Cause I'm a bowlin' alley idiot (bowlin' alley idiot)
Bowlin' alley idiot, I'm outta control
I'm a real unholy roller, Jesus, spare my soul!
'Cause I'm a bowlin' alley idiot…Bass solo!

Bass: Baaaaaaaaaaaaaass!
Kobi: Wasn't that beautiful?
Bass: Shut up!

People say I'm a nut, that I'm stuck in a rut
I got the AMF logo tattooed on my butt
Well, my girl up and left, she said she's sick of me forgetting
It was quarter game night, and I missed my own wedding
Well, I heard that up in heaven, there's a lane the angels like
Where the balls have liquid centers, and the 9s count as strikes

Well, I can't prove this claim, but I believe it all the same
And I get down on my knees, and I pray to every god I can name
Please don't let me scratch this frame

Well, you best have on your riot gear whenever I step up to the lane
Because the ball goes flyin' backwards every third or fourth try, sent twenty people to the hospital, but so far no-one's died
Well, I tried to join a league, but I just got spurned, and then they tried to shove my head into the ball return
So I told 'em tough patootie, I can still have all my fun, I'll start a union, Local Bowling Alley Idiots 401

And we're the bowling alley idiots (bowlin' alley idiot)
Bowlin' alley idiots, we're out of control
I got a shrine to Saint Earl Anthony on my bedroom wall
'Cause I'm a bowlin' alley idiot (Roll that stupid ball!)

I'm a bowlin' alley idiot! (bowlin' alley idiot)
I'm a bowlin' alley idiot! (bowlin' alley idiot)
Bowlin' alley idiot! (bowlin' alley idiot)
Whoo! Sing it with me, now!

B-O-W-L! (bowlin' alley idiot)
B-O-W-L! (you are an idiot)
B-O-W-L! (bowlin' alley idiot)
Idiot for life, yeah!

Hey, don't leave me hangin'!

Thank ya.
Track Name: Facial Hair
You may have grappled with the handlebar, you may have taken out the Fu Manchu
But they don't come within a mile of the carpeted smile that I wear
Rugged as a bear on an ATV, and like a hedge impeccably pruned
Oozin' unmistakable butchness out of every hair
Got a Tom Selleck mammoth sittin' on my lip
Like a freaky fuzzy fully loaded battleship
Shootin' sex torpedoes that'll make your foundation shake
Girl, there ain't nothin' you can push that my manular bush can't take

So baby won't you brush up your body against all the lovin' of my facial hair?
Take advantage of your sense of touch when it's too dark to see
Baby don't nothin' get too intense for all the lovin' of my facial hair
Let's get freaky follicly
Get that razor away from me!

Allow me to explain in further detail…

When you're lonely and you're feelin' cold, don't you know I'll be there in a flash
I'll be comin' straight and true and all you have to do is whistle
And I'll know just where you are, 'cause I got sonar and GPS installed in my mustache
And I will wrap you and protect you in a forest of my manly bristle
I'm always ready for the day 'cause while I'm takin' a snooze
My beard is up and makin' coffee readin' Yahoo! News
Usin' volumizin' lotion so it's thick enough to stick things in
How many guys you know play tennis with a racket stickin' out of their chin?

So baby won't you brush up your body against all the lovin' of my facial hair?
Take a ride across the prairie that's the hairiest that hairy can be
Baby nothin' in the world gets too intense for all the lovin' of my facial hair
Let's go frolic follicly
Now, let's change the key.

Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, and Saddam Hussein
They're all burnin' in hell, but their 'staches all went to heaven
And then I heard they shaved off Einstein's and saved it along with his genius brain
Now it belongs to a Pakistani cashier at 7-11
And my beard keeps growin' like a bumper crop
If it was slightly longer I could play for ZZ Top
My eyebrows won Pulitzers and my sideburns both have PhD's
I'm afraid my facial hair might be a tiny smidgen smarter than me

So baby won't you brush up your body against all the lovin' of my facial hair?
Take advantage of your sense of touch when it's too dark to see
Baby don't nothin' get too intense for all the lovin' of my facial hair
Let's get freaky follicly.

Give my regards to Barbasol!
Track Name: Look Directly at the Floating Polystyrene Head
We'd like to thank you very much for volunteering for our little mind control excercise
Rest assured that this is all completely legal and your safety will not be compromised
Please direct your attention to the stationary object hanging perfectly still
(Also it doesn't move)
You may experience a slight bit of numbness as it completely robs you of your free will
(Now dance for me, pretty!)

Look directly at the floating polystyrene head of Isaac Newton
Your hands are covered with blood and all your friends are dead, you can't remember what you've done
This is your curse, and it can't be reversed
So you'd better learn to live with it and pray you don't get worse

Eat a gallon of candy corn.
Eat two gallons of candy corn.
Change your name to candy corn.
Sir Rutherford H. Candycorn III!
Pinch off grandmother's trachea with a battery clamp so the demons don't get in.
Replace every CD at your local music store with recordings of your own gastrointestinal noises
Call it the Black-Eyed Peas.

Each afternoon at 3:18 you will have nightmarish visions involving C. Everett Koop
(And a misplaced banana)
You will dine with the crowned heads of Europe and tell them all their hair smells like cat poop
(Keep it classy)
When you apply for a loan at the bank, you'll only wear a bright magenta thong
(And Kabuki makeup)
And when you hear the chorus of Hey Jude, you'll feel compelled to sing along
(In a gumby voice)

Look directly at the floating polystyrene head, and your brain is frozen
Next thing you know you're shoving jalapeños up your nose and trying to lick the postman
This is why you're not invited to parties, and why your credit rating's a mess
It's why you lost custody of your kids when you showed up to court in your daughter's prom dress

You may believe you're lying in a field of poppies, eating jellybeans
But you'll wake up naked in a Greyhound station in Detroit, trying to mate with the Coke machine
(That's just wrong)
Don't believe your eyes or your ears, because your eyes and ears are made out of toothpaste
(Minty freshness!)
And every time you try to pleasure yourself, you'll end up visualizing Ed Asner's "oh" face.
(Wait, don't stop)

Look directly at the floating polystyrene head of Salman Rushdie
Why did I say that? I bet you don't even know who he is. Your ignorance disgusts me.

Look directly at the floating polystyrene head hovering in the darkness
Contemplate on the innate meaninglessness of life while I raid your apartment
Track Name: IHOP
I'd like to commend the genius who'd
Declared powdered French toast an everyday food
As ranch dressing drizzles from my gaping maw
My heart tingles with what I hope is awe

Awe for the IHOP, IHOP
Breakfast nirvana
Great buttered beyond
Of which I'm so fond
Come to the IHOP
Get stuffed with hash browns and gravy
Sit your ass down and maybe
You'll learn this new song

I might be attractive if I just ate less
Or hadn't attacked and devoured the waitress
While others munch salads to remain petite
I garnish my meat with meat

Down at the IHOP, IHOP
Five kinds of syrup
It'll clog up your chute
But it counts as a fruit
Down at the IHOP
They live to widen your rear end
Your Weight Watchers points, friend
Have all become moot.

(Did you know that every time you bite into a Denver omelette, doused in boysenberry syrup, God kills an aerobics instructor?)

Although "International" is part of its name
Other nations regard it mostly with shame
I lost all my friends. I ate them, you see
But that just leaves more food for me

Down at the IHOP, IHOP
I eat all my meals here
I sleep in the booth
I'm too fat to move
I live at the IHOP
My doctor says within five years
I'll probably die here
Be buried here too
Track Name: Jeremy the Ninja
Jeremy, Jeremy, the ninja
He kills people with his thoughts
He'll eat your soul like an apricot
You'll rue the day you ever fought with Jeremy

He could sneak into your house and switch your medications
Make you shoot out flaming acid every time you pee
And if you do that, don't use the stall that's next to me

Jeremy, Jeremy, the ninja
Working down his enemies list
Killing with his atomic fist
No-one can make you un-exist like Jeremy

He could lodge a bunch of flaming shurikens in your spinal cord
Turn into a ten-ton dragon and eat you in the face
And when they're out of fuel, he kicks NASA's rockets into space

Jeremy, Jeremy, the ninja
Shops for sweaters at the Gap
Lunch at Quizno's, then a nap
You best not try an' start no crap with Jeremy

Well, his fans think he's tremendous, they talk about him constantly
And when he's around, they literally lose their heads
He's like a toasted vengeance sandwich on whole wheat murder bread

Jeremy, Jeremy, the ninja
Boy, he really loves to kill
Did we mention he loves to kill?
If he wants to kill you, then he will, that's Jeremy
Track Name: I Have a Tuba
When the buttermilk Tuesday beards in your pancakes
Pistol-whips your inner child and calls you a yam
It's a Boston creme terrier pinecone dilemma
By Beelzebub's toenails, I don't like spam!
Nasal gnomes venture through the tungsten pajamas
Distributing hermaphroditic ravioli faucets and
Salad brochures of the cathedral of stupid
How pituitary Floridas infuriate the closet
Cherokee bananas staple cats to a Hyundai
A surgical procedure to become a fudge sundae
Saucy Brits are eating bacon bits with
Caramelized linoleum pickle tits

I have a tuba! It's made of wood! It's useless!

I wanna make an ice cream truck crash!
I want a Teddy Roosevelt mustache!
I wanna get romantic with a Jell-O pudding cup!
I wanna wear a tutu and blow things up!
My butt is made of pencils, my head is all depressed
I just ate a beetle and it tasted like YES!
I tried to write a check to a gumball machine!
My left nipple has a baseball team!
I want a tub of prairie dogs to soak my feet in
I wanna mail my poop to Sweden
I wanna French kiss a tarantula hawk wasp and
Give a pillowcase power of attorney

I have a tuba! It's made of wood! It's useless!

I have an announcement! (Hold on, just a second…)

Assume the arrogant peanut! Glands of the Serengeti! Stewardess, my ginger ale is unionizing! All right, who ate the last Toronto?! Why won't the Goodwill accept my cat litter?! Crossbreeding feral apostrophes with the former cast of Thirtysomething doesn't entitle your ankles to Mitsubishi, no matter how luminously you implode the deacon of pantyhose in a tambourine-fueled stupor with the liturgical end of a sugar-frosted potato hinge! My left nipple also has a library, a Pentecostal church, and two bowling alleys, but still no Fudruckers! What's the deal, guys?!

A Tylenalteration of a caribou meringue
Scooter toot the taco bush and shake that thang
The whimsical gazpacho has sewn itself shut
I accidentally up my butt
Tom Cruise shampoo and carbonated mayo
Spread it on a taxi cab and bake it for a year
When it comes out, you'll have a monkey onion beer
They told me not to stare! They told me not to stare!
But the Thanksgiving turkey looks exactly like Cher!
Deleted Applebees and methamfetacheese
Gonna W my X right up your Y until it Z's
Bifurcate the synonym and win a burnt fishstick
Get your tuchus off the universe and go ballistic
Stink the unstinkable, pink the unpinkable
Get up on the dance floor and do the unthinkable!

I have a tuba! It's made of wood! It's useless!

Waiter, there's a fly in my catastrophe! Help! I've been bitten by a rabid church! You may be a Gucci tarantula, but I've got Elvis for arms! Can't you go five minutes without being Luxembourg?! Is this piano fudge or ambulatory?! I've invented a flashlight that emits Tony Slattery! The all-seeing fluoridated aphid of eternal self-empackagement doesn't want any of your goddamn cookies! Mom! The lesbian chairs are scissoring again! You bitch! You stole my skateboard! WHOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH BUNDT CAKE!
Track Name: Orange Glo
Uno, dos, tres, Kaboom!

(Turn up that, too high, turn it, up again......okay, that's good.)

I found a cheap downtown apartment
But the day I moved is when the trouble started
'Cause the landlord didn't say
It was haunted by a ghost, the ghost of Billy Mays
Who's always shouting

Hello, hello!
You wanna buy some Orange Glo?
Cleans everything, and the price is low
And if you call now we'll throw in a free tote bag!
What a deal!
What a deal!

My life became too weird
I noticed that my wife had grown a beard
I thought that if I bought his products he'd be gone
I bought some fertilizer, I don't even have a lawn!
I bought his life insurance, the Hooks of Hercules
A tube of Mighty Putty, a tub of Oxi-Clean
I'm all out of money, all he does is scream

Hello, hello!
(Hi there!)
You wanna buy some Orange Glo?
(We take Visa!)
His spirit haunts me everywhere I go
And his voice makes the paint and wallpaper peel

(Big City Slider Station! Awesome Auger! Zorbys! I'll attack your family! The Ding King! Quick Chop! Jupiter Jack! Tool Bandit! Billy Mays is scoring with your mom!)

All of this, all of this can be yours...
All of this can be yours for 12 easy payments of $19.95! Order now and we'll throw in a free t-shirt, my grandma's dentures, the HMS Bounty, a fistful of mud, and a live cobra!

Hello, hello!
(Yo, dawg)
You wanna buy some Orange Glo?
I wish I had a ghost remote control, I would mute him
Why can't I shoot him?!

My friends won't come over now
He's hiding under the couch
It's unreal
He's not real!

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
No! No! No! OH GOD NO!!!
Track Name: We Are the Vikings
In the vast and frozen country of the free and the brave
Where the women smell of moose fat, and the men never shave
Where swinging battle axes are what cause the wind to blow
And a quick defenestration is just how we say hello
We warriors of virtue, battle hardened and austere
Humiliate all challengers with punishments severe
We'll chop you up and use your tongue to scrub our cattle stalls
We're needlessly sadistic brutes, or so we have been called

We are the Vikings!
We plunder and we pillage to our liking
We're coming to your town, so spread the news
We live to fight and never lose
We only use name brand shampoos
Vikings for the win!

With tools of steel we forge in molten hot volcanic rock
We make orthopedic footwear and repair cuckoo clocks
Our summers are a balmy minus ninety nine degrees
When we swagger through the woods, our nipples knock down all the trees
We're veterans of the theater; we put on quite a show
We've added gory battle scenes to Waiting for Godot
And the men whose lives we spare know well our generosity
Our swords provide free gender reassignment surgery

We are the Vikings!
Sometimes we put on dresses and go hiking
Our opponents we shall frighten and beguile
With our uncanny sense of style
We love ballet and Oscar Wilde
Vikings for the win!

One thousand and one million years ago, so goes the tale
The bravest, butchest men in Scandinavia set to sail
They tore through France and Germany, they torched the British Isles
The sauntered into Russia, sacking Moscow with a smile
From Asia to America they spread their Viking ways
They set up scores of furniture stores and Internet cafés
There's never been a subject fitter for a metal song
And we'll turn you into kitty litter if you get the lyrics wrong!
...and that's if we like you

On a standard Friday evening, when there isn't much to do
We put on some Marvin Gaye and do it dressed as caribou
Then we all have appletinis and we braid each other's hair
It's an ancient, proud tradition, like our sexy underwear

We are the Vikings!
The punch at all your parties we'll be spiking
We are a mighty army to be feared
Though we may dress a little weird
And may have lipstick on our beards
We are the Vikings!
We wrestle in the nude, it looks quite striking
Through history our blades will rend and carve
We feast and leave the weak to starve
I've got a man-crush on Brett Favre
Vikings for the win!
Vikings for the win!
Rar ee vaw durr durr!
Foor dee schkueur dee dee!
Ard dee barr da doo...