So, mom, for you and for humanity as a whole, I shall now dissect Roger Miller's classic tribute to thoughtless clods and the spineless women who marry put up with them: "Little Green Apples." Apparently, Mr. Miller considers it "A Tender Look at Love."
As previously, my comments will be in italics and (in parentheses.)And i wake up in the morning with my hair down in my eyes and she says hi
And i stumble to the breakfast table while the kids are going off to school, goodbye.(Yeah, thanks for getting out of bed once all the work is done!)
And she reaches out and takes my hand and squeezes it and says how you feeling hon?(Are you hung over again, asshole? Must be nice to get out of the house and then sleep in the next day while I do all the work)
And i look across at smiling lips that warm my heart, and see my morning sun.(I'm smiling, thinking of the many ways I could kill you in your drunken, snoring stupor.)
And if that's not loving me (puke!), then all i've got to say,
God didn't make the little green apples, and it don't rain in indianapolis in the summer time.
And there's no such thing as dr. seuss or disney land and mother goose, no nursery rhymes.
God didn't make the little green apples, and it don't rain in indianapolis in the summer time.(I have NO IDEA what this crap is supposed to mean.)
And when myself is feeling low, i think about her face and go and ease my mind.
Sometimes i call her up, at home, knowing she's busy. (Damn it all to hell! Some asshole always calls when I'm in the middle of something! I bet it's that asshole I married. I better pick it up; he'll just keep calling)
And ask her if she can get away, meet me and maybe we can grab a bite to eat.(He's actually going to take me out somewhere? This is new. Okay, I'll do it!)
And she drops what she's doing and she hurries down to meet me, and i'm always late. (I should've known he'd pull this again. Oh, yes, I have nothing to do all day but wait for you. God I hate this guy. I should've listened to my mother. I am an idiot.)
But she sits waiting patiently, and smiles when she first sees me, because she's made that way.(I know there are poisons that are indetectable. I will look them up the minute I can get free of this impotent gasbag.)
And if that ain't loving me, then all i've got to say,
God didn't make the little green apples, and it don't snow in minneapolis when the winter comes.
And there's no such thing as make-believe, puppy dogs or autumn leaves, no bb guns.
God didn't make the little green apples, and it don't snow in minneapolis when the winter comes.(Again with the incoherent nonsense. Is he drunk AGAIN?)
