The poem before music. By TRS:
'Twas the night before the sheloshes yemei hagbala, when all through the house
not a speaker was playing, nor singing a spouse;
iTunes was prepped on the computer with care
with expectation that MBD or Lipa would soon be there;
The children weren't nestled, nor snug in their beds
while crying for mommy, screaming off their heads;
And mamma and tatupapu, out for a walk
and I wishing I was willing to go take a nap;
When out on the sidewalk there arose such a clatter
I sprang up from the computer to see what was the matter;
Away to the door I flew like a rock
tore open the blinds and threw open the child-lock;
the moon was not visible, it was a cloudy night
but everything outside was still visible (thank heaven for Crown Heights);
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
a miniature Lipa Schmeltzer distributing good cheer;
he was singing a song, so wondrous and fit
hut bitachon un aleh zan git;
more rapid than eagles his band yes they came
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now Rick Cutler, now Yaron Gershovsky, now Yossi Green!
On to your drums, your piano, your tambourine!
play your songs, feel the melody, experience the joy within,
Mivtzoyim is like what? Like crack? You mean like the shtuff that [crack cocaine] is a substance that affects the brain chemistry of the user: causing euphoria, supreme confidence, loss of appetite, insomnia, alertness, and increased energy? (wikipedia)
Sure it is, sure, sure. I mean hey, if arguing with old Russian ladies about lighting shabbos candles is what turns you on, then by all means, indulge, but really? Crack?
Now that I think about it though, I suppose you could be right about this one. I mean, standing on a street corner arguing exactly this point, and that point actually making sense... seems crazy to me, but I suppose it can't be helped. And how about the time you tried to prove how normal frum Jews are so you say to some hipster 28 year old girl, "Oh, we're normal, not like the French, our women shave their arm pits," and then she tells you, "Oh-I don't." It's moments like that where you want to disappear forever/hit yourself really hard five seconds ago/realize that hipsters in Willy are crazy; what's a guy to do? Here you are, representing worldwide religious Jewry, and your crazy mouth has gotten you into trouble again.
But hey, that's what it's all about, right?