Outsmartin' the Popos Lyrics


Outsmartin' the Popos

I remember that day: the day I put the arsenic
in the policeman's burger at the drive-through.
That was the day that I "outsmarted the popos."
And I wrote that on his wrapper.

I saw him the next day, too. He looked kind of
sick. I said, "Hey, Popo--you look kind of sick!
How'd ya like that arsenic? Take that, ya popo."

(He didn't outsmart anybody.)

I recorded this one with Robert Manzanedo to DAT in Los Banos, CA. It was the summer of 1996. Therefore, this is technically the first recording I did for this, my first album. It just wasn't on four-track.


This Is What Happens...

This is what happens when you give Logan a 4-track
He writes these stupid songs all the time at 1 o'clock in the morning
He lies awake and thinks of lyrics that are stupid, really stupid
Listen to these lyrics--aren't they stupid?

(Obligatory breakdown w/ funny noises)

This is what happens when you give Logan a 4-track
He writes these stupid songs all the time at 1 o'clock in the morning

Well, it is.


Hang Up and Die Again

This was my first four-track recording, aside from some stuff I did when I was thirteen. It's pretty innovative, if not good.


Sunday Paper

I'm gonna kill my neighbor
Cause he stole my sunday paper
I'm gonna kill my neighbor
Cause he stole my sunday paper
The same thing happens every week
I get so mad I can hardly speak
I want my daily horoscope
I'm gonna kill my neighbor
And then I'm gonna burn his house down
To the ground

I wish I had a quarter
For every time I reached the border
And almost killed my stupid neighbor
Over a stolen sunday paper
He even let his mangy cat
Do something nasty on my welcome mat
I wish I had a baseball glove
So I could kill my next door neighbor
And take his bowling trophies
And pawn them off

If only I were ten feet tall
I'd smush him up into a ball
And then I'd roll him down the stairs
But I am only four foot six

So I wanna kill my neighbor
Cause he stole my sunday paper
But I guess I'm kinda helpless
Like the later-years Elvis
There'll be no letting of blood today
I'll ring his doorbell and run away
And laugh at him from my front porch
And forget about my paper
Cause after all
I don't know how to read

The first song I ever wrote with a real piano. First released in 1997 on Outsmartin' the Popos, my first cassette release.


Farkle!

This is the first Farkle commercial. This one makes the second one make a little more sense. The first appearance of John-John the Leprechaun. Buy it today, you monkey.


Sid Sheinberg's Tuesday Nite Revue

The lyrics to this song were "borrowed" from my friends in other local bands at the time--Headboard, Little Tin Frog, Brazil, The Blockheads, Sons of Atom, and Nirvana II, The Sequel. Sid Sheinberg went on to greater fame and fortune than he could possibly have imagined.


Rudolf Nureyev

I wish that everything would just work out
The way it was supposed to
And everything was perfect
And no one had ever heard of the Macarena
('Eez my boyfriend/But 'eez stoo-pid)

I wish that everybody knew my name
And that they'd call me on the telephone
And they'd say, "Hey Logan, what's up
Ya wanna go fer lunch?"

If everybody was perfect
They wouldn't have to repeat themselves
They wouldn't have to repeat themselves
They wouldn't have to repeat themselves

My life would be simple then
Cause I'd live in a plastic egg
And I'd call myself Rudolf Nureyev
And I'd brag about how I could dance

I wish that everyone would disappear
So I could listen to my radio
And never have to repeat myself
To anybody...

...ever again.


Tough Titty

Tough titty!
In the city!
So itty-bitty!
I gotta gitty--me some!

I got what she wants
I got what she needs
I got what she has
You know what I mean

Tough titty!
In the city!
So itty-bitty!
I gotta gitty--me some!

(Owen solo--"Spit that Odwalla, Glenn")
(Logan solo--"Polka, polka")

Tough titty!
In the city!
So itty-bitty!
I gotta gitty--me some!

I got my love gun loaded
Got my high-heeled boots
So come on and get ready
I'm gonna shake your caboose

Tough titty!
Look so pretty!
Here kitty-kitty! (Meow!)
I gotta gitty--me some!

Some tough titty...

Written by Owen Otto and Logan Whitehurst


The Waffle of Death

CHORUS:
We'll all have fun when the Waffle of Death comes down to the farm
We'll all go to our respective afterlives

VERSE
I need a quarter; I got to make a telephone call
(I can't believe it)
The deadly waffle knows exactly where I am
(I just can't believe it)

CHORUS

VERSE

CHORUS

The definitive original, and still my favorite track from Outsmartin' the Popos.


The Standard Metric System

The Standard Metric System
Measures distances and weights
For mass and volume, length and height
It's used to calculate
Compared to standard U.S. measures
One can plainly see
The metric system's blunt efficiency

Yard vs. meter, quart vs. liter
The pound squares off against the kilogram, you see
A decimal equation defines the U.S. nation
As fools afraid to change their terminology

The world has the kilometer
And we have got our mile
The time has come to face the facts
And face them with a smile
So if those foreign weirdos
Try to ask us to conform
We'll blow their stupid countries all to hell

I mean, seriously, why aren't we on it? We have kilometers on our speedometers--why not our street signs? Oh, the humanity! Oh, the frustration when driving and building things in other countries!


Vibrating Leprechaun

Joe and I did this on caffeine and boredom. Please forgive us. Joe is the one who says "Vibrrrrraaaaation!"


Avocado Madness

Avocado madness
Avocado madness
Avocado madness
Avocado madness

Avocado avocado
Avocado avocado
Avocado avocado
Avocado avocado

Wave your hands in the air
Wave your hands in the air
Wave your hands in the air
Wave

Avocado madness
Avocado madness
Avocado madness
Avocado madness

They told me not to listen to the avocado
But I did listen to the avocado
Dave

Avocado madness
Avocado madness
...madness...


...When You Give Owen a Guitar

This is what happens when
You give Owen a guitar
And four chords that Logan thought of
On his bedroom floor at 1:15 in the morning

This what happens when he takes those chords
And he plays them
Over and over
and over and over
and over and over
and over and over

Deedly doink
Deedly squat squat
Deedle doink
Deedly squat squat

This is what happens when you give Owen a--
what the heck am I sitting in?
Oh my God, it's crawling up my leg


A Brief Reprise

(Various screaming and gibberish)

VibrrrrrAtion!