We Won’t Get Tools Again | The Beachside Resident

By: Judy Forney

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We Won’t Get Tools Again

Twenty-ish years ago after our youngest son was born, tallying our family up to its final five, we bought a minivan. Not only was it our first big vehicle, it was also our first brand new car. And the coolest thing about the huge grey beast was its cassette player.

My husband has eclectic taste in music, but back then his eccentricities didn’t stretch to embrace children’s tunes. No Raffi, Barney, or Muppet covers of the Beach Boys would be played in our car. Nope, the kids could listen to what Dad chose to play and like it. That’s how, of course, some famous, classic lyrics were totally screwed over in versions by the Forney Boys.

No one could really blame my guys. The three of them were young and prone to ear infections. Their hearing was sometimes a bit off. Now, a big purple dinosaur singing, “I love you/You love me” is easy. But what about listening to Robert Plant belt out Led Zeppelin’s, “Whole Lotta Love”? Well, that’s not quite as simple. Seriously, every time we road tripped some poor rocker got ripped a new one. You had to feel sorry for Tom Petty, and his song, “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” as preformed by my three car-seat artists.

“Runnin’ down the drain…”

“…that never would clog a sink…”

“…working is a misery…”

I always thought their rendition made sense to the guys at the time, because my husband and I had just battled an infestation of silver flies in our bathroom. We’d had to rip out a wall, snake the pipes, and bug-bomb the room. We washed a lot of gross junk down the drain and it was miserable. Heck, the boys probably thought their dad had written the tune just for Mr. Petty and his Heartbreakers.

Of course I don’t have an explanation for every lame lyric. I mean, I have no idea where the Forney Trio came up with their version of The Who classic “Won’t Get Fooled Again.”

“I bend my knees…”

“…in flames…”

“…we won’t get tools again.”

I guess I could make something up, too. A really juicy story involving my lost weekend with a traveling handy man. Or maybe an orthopedic surgeon. That would certainly make my early 30s sound as if they’d been more daring!

To be honest though, I had had my own lyrical challenges when I was a kid. Unfortunately I wasn’t three years old or five…or even cute. I was fifteen. I didn’t know why a band would write and sing about…a female product. I wasn’t even real sure what “douching” was, although I had seen commercials. But I figured what was good enough for Manfred Mann was good enough for me, so of course I sang along At the top of my lungs. In the car. With my mom. I remember her trying not to laugh as we pulled into the grocery store lot. She attempted to tell me what the real words to the song were. But I got so mad. Like, right, get a grip — my mother was totally old. How would she know any lyrics to any songs playing on the hip station? Geez! As soon as we got home, I jumped on my bike and pedaled over to my best friend’s house to share the old lady’s shame. Of course she told me, after collapsing on her bed giggling, that my mom’s rendition of the song had been the right one. She laughed so hard she couldn’t talk, although she did manage to hiccup something out about the good folks at Johnson and Johnson and how maybe I could sell them on my great jingle idea. Former best girlfriends always think they’re so comedic.

Recently I discovered that me and mine are not the only lyrically lost souls. There are many of us. Entire websites are devoted to the subject. My favorite is www.kissthisguy.com. They list hysterical examples of misunderstood lyrics and sometimes the back stories as well. But not always, which is fun because a person can make those up. Like this one from the band R.E.M. and their song, “Losing My Religion”:

“I pee in the corner/I pee in the spotlight…”

Can’t you just imagine that this guy spent one, (or a few) too many years in bell bottom blues, clicking his lighter on and waving it over his head at concerts? Or maybe he just clicked it on and lit up…

Another screwed-up songster misheard AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds” thusly:

“Dirty deeds and they’re done with sheep…”

That’s just whacked! Maybe the country is just filled with folks running around in need of antibiotics for their ears.

One song that’s listed on nearly every site is a certain tune, again from AC/DC. It caught my eye because it always ended up, back in the day, on our road trip playlist.

“I’ve got big balls…”

“We’ve got the biggest balls of them all!”

Well, oaky. The Forney Boys got the words right, but really, isn’t this where we started?

Don’t get fooled by, (false), tools again!