Random Thoughts 3 I Have the Power of God and Shakira On My Side

As a fun activity, I’ve begun to compile songs to play at my funeral, and my first choice would be Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”. I know what you’re thinking. “Peter, I know you are a very sensual lover and could probably paint the Mona Lisa if you taped a paint brush to your pelvic area, but don’t you think that your funeral attendants would be disrespected by the song choice?” Well, you’d be perfectly correct if we were of like minds, but we’re not. See, more than a tribute to the various angles and settings my hips can be programmed and catered to each individual for maximum cross-sensory pleasure, the song is a warning. My hips don’t lie not because they lack the appropriate vocalizing organs to speak, but because they speak in the most primal and visceral language known to man, the language all humankind knows- violence. 

Now, before I go on, I will address what must be your immediate concern. “Peter, the very first lines to the song are ‘No fighting’. You must be mistaken.” On the contrary, I am far from mistaken. Wyclef Jean does not utter those lyrics as a request, but a challenge. In attempting to engage him in combat, Jean implies that the exchange will be nothing more than a most brutal and one-sided charity event whereby he gives beat-downs instead of goodwill. Therefore, it is merited when I employ the song for a congruent purpose, which as a war ballad to my hips. 

Everyone knows the struggle for survival and domination of one’s competitors. There is an honesty in that struggle that cannot be silenced by any means. My hips don’t lie because anyone who has seen, felt, tasted, smelled, or heard the gyration of my hips has never known a more powerful force in the universe. The honesty of my hips is elemental, a force of nature that cannot be controlled, quelled, bargained with, or diverted from its path. It can only be worshiped. Each swinging pass, every turn of direction, every twerk, every nay nay, every bump and grind, and all the ways I right and left it that has ever been uttered from my hip’s nonexistent lips is truth. So, when you attend my funeral, do you really think that it will be over if you put me in a wooden box six feet underground? My hips don’t lie, not in the ground, and not in their words.