I don't like songs that spell things.
You know who you are: G-L-O-R-I-A and G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S.
Sorry, that means you too B-I-N-G-O.
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Don't worry, YMCA, you don't count. There is a special clause for acronyms but, I haveta tell you, the oiled up Indian doesn't help matters. You are officially on notice.
I especially don't like it when an artist spells out his or her name and puts a "to the" in between the letters. I don't get it, what's the point? I should try it when putting my name in at a restaurant. "Uhm....B to the R to the IAN, your table is ready".
Aretha Franklin's R-E-S-P-E-C-T gets a pass, because of my R-E-S-P-E-C-T for soul music.
The only other notable exception? S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night. Oh yeah, Bay City Rollers circa 1976.
One of my first LP's (that's vinyl for all you younguns) was their Greatest Hits album.
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Clearly, I R-O-C-K-E-D H-A-R-D back then and I still do T-O-D-A-Y.
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