So my late grandmother always used to say this when she was upset about something. Rather than swearing or yelling, she’d say, “Shoot the sherbet!” My cousin Jess and I would play cards against her as kids and if we’d beat her in King’s Corners or something, she’d actually get upset and say, “Shoot the sherbet!” as she threw her cards down.

Sometimes she was just being funny, but other times she was legitimately upset. My grandmother was a competitive card player. She was good. (Although she was known to try and cheat against Jess and I.) My grandfather, dad, and uncles would always play poker down in the basement and on the occasions that my grandmother would sit in with them, she would often rake it in. I miss those poker games. There was something pretty special about sitting nearby the card table while The Mills Brothers or Don Ho records played in the other room. The sound of those cheap plastic poker chips rattling on the middle of my grandfather’s handmade octagon poker table is still one of my favorite sounds.

I have the honor of being the owner of that table now. As we speak it sits in my kitchen. It’s heavier than my stove and the felt is a little torn in the middle, but it’s probably the most priceless thing I own, as far as I’m concerned.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because since the birth of The Finalists, I’ve wanted to write a song called “Shoot the Sherbet.”

This really probably isn’t exactly what my grandmother (or anyone in my family) might have imagined this to sound like were they to anticipate me writing a song with this title, but nevertheless, this is what I’ve come up with so far:

UPDATE (4.28.06): I’ve taken to heart the comments from my sister and my Miss Monk and I think some changes are in order. See below:

Shoot the Sherbet

Why am I to crazies what broth is to soup?
I can’t escape reality, without knowing the truth?
It’s probably who I am, it’s the way I behave.
It’s my own fault — it’s the nuts I seem to crave.

Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off.
Shoot the sherbet, you don’t read Nabikov.
Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off. just a little bit.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, why won’t you just fuck off? I’m so angry I could spit.

But one too many is one too few.
But maybe just one more will finally do.
Though escape is pretty doubtful, that much is clearly true.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, is what I say to you.

Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off.
Shoot the sherbet, don’t knock Rachmaninov.
Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off. I’m gonna have a fit.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, why won’t you just fuck off? I’m so angry I could spit.

(bridge)
You were priced to sell.
So you was bought.
For a buck fitty-nine one mighta thought
that you was busted. A dud.
But you isn’t.
You make that clever little sound with your mouth,
oh yeah it’s called talking.
Conversation.
We had it.
Once — was I drunk?
Who woulda thunk?

Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off.
Shoot the sherbet, don’t knock Rachmaninov. Mikael Barishnikov
Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off. Kenneth Brannaugh is a Brit.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, why won’t you just fuck off? I’m so angry I could spit.

The fact of the matter isn’t a matter of fact.
The thing of it is that you and I had a pact.
A deal. A bargain. A plan of of attack.
Something that said we knew where we was at.

But now we don’t, the deal’s been busted.
I just knew you shouldn’t be trusted.
My rainbow sherbet’s been dusted
With anger. Our love is rusted.

Tin roof!

Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off.
Shoot the sherbet, David Hasselhoff.
Shoot the sherbet, a glass of Glenlivet.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, I’m so angry I could spit.
Shoot the sherbet, I’m so angry I could spit.

Shoot the sherbet, you really piss me off.
Shoot the sherbet, turkey stroganoff.
Shoot the sherbet, reluctant conduit.
Shoot the freakin’ sherbet, I’m so angry I could spit.
Shoot the sherbet, I’m so angry I could spit.
I’m so angry I could spit.

And that’s what I got so far. Not exactly a masterpiece, but it will be.
I need a final verse though.
update (continued): Alright, I added a couple final verses and switched the chorus around. Now I just need to set the tune and convince Todd and Matt that this is a number one.

UPDATE (March 10, 2011): We recorded this song, and Todd made a video for it. Please enjoy that here.



2 thoughts on “Shoot the Sherbet

  1. Ok the bridge is pure genius. But the “fuck off” usage I could do without. I ain’t no prude but for goodness sake, Grandma is your inspiration here! I think you should celebrate her use of an innocent, nonsensical phrase to suggest profanity. Or think mom, too… “I’m so mad, I could spit!”

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