If I Could Sing, I’d Be a Really Great Vocalist

A shared affliction

The Trumplandia Review

I really like singing.  Actually, it’s kind of a problem.

Is there such a thing as Musical Tourette Syndrome?   I think I might have it.

I sing really bad songs.  Catastrophically bad songs.  At the worst times.  Without realizing it.   I’ll be on a crowded elevator and I’ll realize somewhere around the 20th floor that I’ve been singing, “Love Will Keep Us Together,” by The Captain and Tenille since the lobby.  I’m up to the line, “You (you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) You belong to me now…” and I’ll realize what I’m doing and kind of let it peter out.

Or I’ll be at a funeral, my mind wandering, and I’ll call out,  “Heeey, Macarena,” realize people are looking at me, and mumble my way into prayerful reverie.  “Macarena sh’vua yud…”

I had an acute episode some years ago while  driving my teenage daughter and her best friend to…

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