The Final Countdown

They have taken the radio and the VMAs. We have plugged our ears, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes…guitars, fiddles in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow lurks in the dark. We can not get out…they are coming.

I am referring, of course, to country singers. If you recognized the quote above as being adapted from the Lord of the Rings, when they’re trapped in the Mines of Moria and Gandalf’s reading from that giant book about how the goblins and the cave troll and the Balrog killed everyone and then Pippin knocks the skeleton down the well and it makes tons of noise and the drums start and they have to fight their way out, well then you need to get laid even more than I do, and I really . . . never mind. Country singers.

Unless you’re one of my newcomers, you’ve probably read installments one and two of this series. This is the last one. Cherish it.

Trace Adkins – All I Ask For Anymore

See how much blue there is in this photo? That’s cause I’m blue. As in depressed. It’s clever.

The Message You’re Supposed To Get:
I’m an unselfish man and I don’t need much.

The song starts with the following verse:

It was a home run when the game was tied,
A pick up truck when I could drive,
And one pink line when Katie said I’m late.
It was a passing grade, a pretty girl,
All the money in the world,
What mattered then kept changing every day.

I get it. It’s a statement about the fickle needs of young people, impatient to grow up, not realizing what’s truly important because they’re just goddamn teenagers and don’t know when they’ve got it good. Makes sense. But then comes the chorus.

But when I bow my head tonight,
There’ll be no me, myself and I.
Just watch my wife and kids please, Lord.
That’s all I ask for any more.

The Message Trace Gives You:
There is absolutely nothing in the world worth living for other than your family.

This guy must be the most depressing motherfucker in the world. He has forsaken literally every source of joy in his life, explaining in an agonizingly slow fashion (that’s aaaaaaaaalllllllllllll IIIIIIIIIIII aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaask fooooooooor aaaaaaaaaanyyyyyyyyymoooooooooore) that he doesn’t care about himself at all. Ever been with someone that couldn’t make a decision about what they wanted to do that day? Trace is like that, only so much less fun because it’s his entire fucking life.

More fun than him.

Not only that, but he’s clingier than a fucking barnacle. In the second verse, he says “Nowadays it’s crazy how a passing storm, a siren sound can make me drop it all and pick up the phone to hear her say that all’s okay.” Can you even imagine how annoying that would be? You’d kill him just to get him to leave you the fuck alone.

The Conversation:


Trace’s Wife (presumably Katie): “Umm…yes. Why?”

“I heard sirens and wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“Honey…you’re on tour.”

“I know, but I’m scared. You’re sure you’re all right?”

*facepalm* “Yes, Trace. You’re 1500 miles away. Even if I was hurt, you’d never hear the sirens. The ones you heard couldn’t possibly be for…why do I hear crowds in the background?”

“I’m in concert. They’re mad that I didn’t finish the song. They may or may not throw things.”

“You…you stopped in the middle of a song?”

“Yes. I don’t care about anything at all. For example, my bassist is approaching me with white knuckles and murder in his eyes, but it does not concern me. All I want is for God to make sure you’re safe. The riotous mob swarming on to the stage is irrelevant.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” *click*

I’m torn, because Trace is also responsible for one of my favorite country songs, “Honkytonk Badonkadonk.” Seriously. Based on this song alone, though, Trace is one of the most boring and irritating human beings alive. You’re only 48, man. Have some fucking ambition.

Jason Aldean – Big Green Tractor

No, I can’t put my knees together. This is how I sit.

The Message You’re Supposed To Get:
I don’t really care what we do, just as long as I’m with you, because I’m a romantic kind of guy. Also I have a tractor.

The song starts out like this.

She had a shiny little Beemer with the rag top down
Sittin’ in the drive but she wouldn’t get out
The dogs were all barkin’ and waggin’ around
And I just laughed and said y’all get in

She had on a new dress and she curled her hair
She was looking too good not to go somewhere
Said “what you want to do, baby, I don’t care
We can go to the show, we can stay out here”

So this hot girl has shown up in his driveway in her “Beemer” (I hate it when people say that), all dressed up and ready to paint the town red. Jason’s response is to ignore literally every clue she’s given him and fuck everything up.

The Message Jason Gives You:
Your woman thinks she wants nice things, but she’s wrong.

Let’s examine the initial evidence. The woman owns a BMW convertible, which means that she’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal when it comes to cars, but she has money and likes to be noticed. She hates Jason’s dogs, which is why she’s sitting in the car refusing to get out while the dogs swarm, land-shark-like, around it, barking and jumping madly.

Inappropriate reaction to someone’s fear of dogs: laughter
Jason’s reaction to someone’s fear of dogs: laughter

She’s sporting freshly curled hair and a new dress, so she’s not coming over to help shovel shit. She wants to go out on the town and, once again, be noticed. It is a shockingly common misconception that men care what women wear. If a man thinks a woman is attractive, she remains attractive in different clothes. They can make an attractive woman more attractive, but they can’t make an ugly one hot. On the other hand, women care what women wear. This means that if a woman comes over to your house all dressed up and looking really good, it’s not for you. She wants to go somewhere and be seen by women who will then be jealous, because women are mind-bogglingly cruel, envious, and psychologically torturous towards each other. If she was dressing up for you, she’d show up naked.

Anyway, we’ve established that she wants to go somewhere nice, have fun, etc. What does Jason suggest?

I can take you for a ride on my big green tractor
We can go slow or make it go faster
Down through the woods and out to the pasture
‘Long as I’m with you it really don’t matter

Climb up in my lap and drive if you want to
Girl, you know you got me to hold on to
We can go to town, but baby if you’d rather
I’ll take you for a ride on my big green tractor

No. Incorrect.

A fucking tractor ride. You’ve got to be kidding. If you were to make a list of all the things that a dressed up, prissy rich girl wants to do of an evening (which you shouldn’t), tractors would not even be at the bottom. They’d be on a different list, entitled “Activities prissy rich girls will slap you in the face for merely suggesting.” This is honestly one of the worst ideas for a date ever.

The Conversation:

Jason: “Hey, baby. You look beautiful tonight.”

Female of some kind: “Aww…thank you. Now let’s go out and do something fun.”

“We could fire up the tractor.”




“I said, we could fire up-“

“No I heard you. You must be joking.”

“What? I’ll dust off the seat.”

“You’ll dust off the…I…you have three seconds to come up with a better suggestion.”

“Well, we could go to town, or-“

“No. Not ‘or’. That option. I choose that.”

“Or I could take you for a ride on my-“

[At this point, Jason’s lady friend stabs him to death with her stiletto and feeds him to his dogs.]

Jason Aldean is going to die alone. The fact that he has the most irritating country twang I’ve ever heard will guarantee it.

Jake Owen – Eight Second Ride

Oh God. It’s so much worse than I thought.

This is the jackpot. The tipping point. This is the song that was so delusional, so excruciatingly stupid, that it inspired this entire series. Every other song you’ve read about to this point, I was prepared to let slide. This one…no.

I’m going to take you through this slowly. If at any point you feel nauseated, dizzy, or ashamed, please go look at lolcats. Or the Mazda 3 (it’s the happiest car in the world). Come back when you’re ready to continue. Now take a deep breath, and let’s DO THIS THING.

I said hey girl what’s your name?
Haven’t I seen you before?
I recognized them dark green eyes
When you walked through the door.

Standard fare so far. Hitting on a woman for no reason is what country guys do. It’s cool though, because he likes her eyes, and no matter how douchey a guy is, a girl will get all flustered if she is complimented on anything other than her bewbies, ass, or general “you’re…like…hot.”

Are you alone or are you with someone?
She said a matter of fact I’m not
So I took her hand that’s when it all began
And we headed towards the parking lot.

Oh. Well…um…that seemed a tad abrupt. I thought he just met her. Or saw her, actually. Well maybe there’s something inherently charming about a guy that looks like a plaid-covered Luke Wilson.

Ok, that’s just freaky.

Or maybe she’s just an impulsive girl. Or something.

And she said hey boy, do you mind
Takin’ me home tonight?
‘Cause I ain’t ever seen a country boy
With tires on his truck this high.

Aaaaaaaand now you’ve lost me. If this were true of all women, men would be delirious with happiness. It gets alluded to in a lot of songs, and we always kind of make fun of guys with huge lifted trucks because we know that the divine potter skimped a little on them, but to hear it outright? For Jake to imagine that there is a woman in the world who would look at his truck and say, without hesitation, “You have huge tires. I want your penis,” well that’s a whole new level of crazy. Also he seems to be a bit optimistic about the size of his…tires.

This is taken straight from the video, I swear to you.

I said climb on up but honey watch the cup
Where I’m spittin’ my dip inside.

Wait, what? You’ve somehow, through the luckiest possible set of circumstances, gotten this woman to want to sleep with you because you’re plaid-y and have a big truck, and then you think it prudent to tell her straight out that you chew tobacco? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Chewing tobacco is gross. Smoking can be kinda cool, pipe-smoking makes you look smart, even the patch means you’re trying to better your lifestyle and that’s cool, but looking like you’ve been punched in the mouth and carrying around a container of brown mucus at all times IS FUCKING DISGUSTING. You know what’s worse, though? KEEPING IT IN A CUP IN YOUR CAR. For god’s sake, dump it surreptitiously before you open the door for her, or whenever you get somewhere, don’t draw her fucking attention to it.

And hold on tight ’cause its gonna be wilder
Than any eight second ride.

It’s just not even worth trying. When a woman is horny and looking to be taken roughly in your truck bed, phrases that will turn her on may include “hold on tight” and “it’s going to be wild.” They do NOT include “eight-second ride.” In fact, avoid uttering that phrase anywhere around any woman at any time, lest she associate you with short durations of time or worse, tell other people of such an association. You’re entering a lifetime of shame.

The only circumstance where an eight-second ride is impressive.
That’s Bodacious, and he weighs 2,700 pounds, can jump higher than you can,
and will literally kill you in the face. Because fuck you, that’s why.

We went riding round rocking to the sound
Of “A Country Boy Can Survive.”
And I knew then that she was my kind of girl
‘Cause she was singing every single line

Of course. That’s when you knew she was your kind of girl. Not when she walked in, not when you hit on her, not when she grabbed you and led you outside, not when she specifically said that she wanted to get her O-face on, not when you tried so valiantly to deter any woman from ever sleeping with you again and failed. It was the music. Of course.

Then she slid on over put my hand on her shoulder
And I asked her what she wanted to do.
She said it really don’t matter where we go
Just as long as I’m ridin’ with you.

You know what, I give up. I could point out the absurdity of him even asking what she wants to do (like you don’t fucking know), but I don’t care.

What happens next? Well, they drive down the charmingly named Old Tobacco Road, put the tailgate down, and do the nasty, of course. Jake mentions carcinogenic saliva and premature ejaculation again, two and four times respectively, but it’s cool because she’s obviously a giant bag of slut and he’s…wearing plaid. I don’t know.

You know what, I’ll let you decide. Here’s the video. You’ll notice that most of the lyrics in the song don’t actually happen in the video, his truck isn’t nearly as big as he repeatedly indicates that it is, and that the lady person in question is a) really hot and b) dressed like a filthy whore.

I couldn’t make this shit up.

You know what? I feel better. There are other songs out there that deserve mockery, but I’ve said my piece. I’m done. All I ask of you is that the next time you hear a song that you really like on the radio? Listen a little closer.

That is all.

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