ELEVATED TRAIN: A Brief Open Letter to Mr. Weird Al Yankovic

traincommaelevated:

Dear Mr. Yankovic,

You were the first musician that I liked.  Or at least, the first one that I chose to like, not because my parents had the record or something.  The very first music purchase I ever made with my own money was a copy of “Even Worse”.  Quickly I became a super fan, asking my parents for advances on my allowance to get all of your albums.

While others went for the hits, I much preferred your your self titled debut album, and prided myself on being able to refer to its original compositions that most did not care to dig deep enough to find.  Eventually, I would win the sixth grade talent show by lip-syncing your song from that album “Hey RIcky” with half of my body dressed and made up like a lady, and the other half a man.  I would alternately turn profile to the audience to appear as if I was playing both parts of the couple in the song.

As you may or may not know, last night you were referred to as “Shit-Al-Yankashit” on a television show that I am on, and I feel that I am partly responsible.

Allow me to explain:

When I was in the fifth grade, a fourth grader named Chad saw me listening to my Walkman before school.  He asked me what I was listening to.

“Um, Weird Al Yankovic.” I scoffed.  Chad should have known.

“Um, Weird Al Yank-a-dick.” He jabbed back, and walked down the hall toward his classroom.

I chased Chad down the hall, pushed my forearm against his neck and slammed him against the wall, and made him take it back.

Our tussle was broken up by the fourth grade teacher.  I was clearly the aggressor in this situation, and was promptly remanded to the principals office.  I was the older and physically bigger kid, and I should have known better.  I apologized to Chad.

This was the first and only fight that I have ever been in in my life.  I told this story in rehearsals one day, and I fear it may have planted the seed that led to “Shit Al Yank-a-shit.”  I do not know this for sure, but I can connect the dots.

There is no harm intended, and I’m sure that the writers enjoy, and if not familiar would enjoy, your work as much as I do.

Thanks for everything, for real.  You got me through a lot of hard times.

A longtime fan,

Tim Simons

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