World Leader Pretend (R.E.M., 1988)

"When the world slips you a Jeffrey, stroke the furry wall." ~ Aldous Snow (Russell Brand), Get Him to the Greek (2010)

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I thought it was one of my better ideas: I would incorporate into my writing my love of music by naming my stories with the names of songs. Not just any songs, but songs from my personal collection; the title in someway having to do, however subtle, with the theme or message of the story.

To quote the late, great Irish brewmasters of Guinness, "Brilliant!"

I believed I was clever, I really did. That was until a Sunday morning in October of 2007. It was then that I learned I was nothing more than a great big copycat. An impersonator. A phony. A sham. A cheap imitation. I was margarine. I was The Stone Temple Pilots doing their best Pearl Jam.

And, I swear to God, I never even watched Grey's Anatomy. . .

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I woke up that morning and went downstairs to join my wife, Elizabeth, and my almost two-year old, Lucy, in the family room. Their morning was already in mid-morning form: Lucy played on the floor while Elizabeth sat on the couch, sipping coffee, reading a magazine.

I plopped myself down on our brown leather loveseat as Elizabeth, sitting on the adjacent matching couch, began briefing me, voluntarily I might add, on Entertainment Weekly’s review of the new NBC series, Life. Although still half-asleep — I mean half-awake (the glass is half-full you know) — ready or not I learned the star of the show, Damian Lewis, is British.

Blimey! This caught my attention. We thought Lewis was great in the role of Major Winters, an American, in HBO's World War II miniseries, Band of Brothers. I never would have guessed he was a Brit — no bloody accent. Unless Elizabeth was full of codswallop, my admiration for Damien Lewis as an actor went up another notch.

I mulled over this bit of trivia and what was for breakfast when Elizabeth, still reading from Entertainment Weekly said, "Did you know that Grey's Anatomy names it's shows with song titles?"

What'chu talkin’ 'bout? I surely heard her wrong; naming things with song titles, that was my idea — my thing, if you will.

"What?" I said.

"It says here 'every show takes its name from a pop song.'"

Son-of-a-bitch.

Now wide awake — I jumped to my feet. "Let me see that," I said, grabbing the magazine. "Where does it say that?"

Elizabeth pointed to "GREY'S ANATOMY: SEASON 3," the number one DVD sold for the week. Sure enough, underneath it read:

"'Time After Time.' 'Don't Stand So Close to Me.' 'Wishin and Hopin.' If you thought the episode titles sounded familiar, it's because every show takes its name from a pop song."

"No way," I said, staggering backward before plopping back down on the loveseat.

Way. My idea of naming my stories with song titles was original but not unique — or was it unique but not original? It was not unique and certainly not original; already thought of years earlier by the creators of one of the most popular TV shows on the planet.

I was devastated.

Elizabeth quickly tried to make me feel better. "I think it's a compliment,” she said. “I don't think anyone knows that [Grey's Anatomy names each episode after a song]."

Before I could feel any better about it, she added, "Well, now they do . . . whoever reads Entertainment Weekly."

Let’s see . . . that would be about 2 million readers. I felt worse.

♦◊♦

This was not flattery, nor theft, just a bad coincidence. I sat speechless, thinking: 1.) what a bloody crummy way to start the morning, 2.) my eighth grade mechanical drawing teacher was still correct when he said "Rudge, you have never had an original idea in your life," 3.) my brain really hasn't been the same since I was hit by a police car when I was 16-years-old, and 4.) I’m hungry — I wonder if we have any Apple Jacks cereal left?

I got up and went to the pantry. Fortunately, we did have Apple Jacks. To cope with my stroke of bad luck, I found refuge in a large overflowing bowl of the "crunchy, sweetened multi-grain cereal with apple and cinnamon." In my head, the 1980's TV commercial jingle amused and comforted me:

'A' is for apple 'J' is for jacks,
Cinnamon toasted Apple Jacks.
You need a good breakfast, that's a fact.
Start it off with Apple Jacks.
Ap-ple Jacks, Ap-ple Jacks.
Ap-ple Jacks, Ap-ple Jacks.
Ap-ple Jacks, Ap-ple Jacks

With each spoonful, I felt a little better. By the time I polished off my second bowl, I had had an epiphany . . .

Apple Jacks don't even taste like apples! I can understand if they were called Cinnamon Jacks, but come on, Apple? But that’s okay, because this made Apple Jacks kind of like me and my story titles — an imitation, and not even a very good one. And you know, I still like 'em a lot.

I also like Funyuns, Frito-Lay's imitation onion rings. And I still can't believe "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" is not butter, also an imitation — but I can't believe it. I also like song covers, like the Red Hot Chili Peppers remake of Stevie Wonder's Higher Ground. I guess the Red Hot Chili Peppers are like me — copycats. I've never been, but I'm sure Paris, IL, and London, TX, are nice enough places. Stephen Spielberg's remake of The War of the Worlds was just fine by my standards. And who knew Damian Lewis doesn’t celebrate the 4th of July? Not me.

I quickly came to the conclusion that it didn't matter if I was a cheap imitation, a cover, a remake, a phony accent, or Moscow, ID. Because you know what? I'm good enough. I'm smart enough, and doggone it, I like my song titles.

How's that for an affirmation? I thought of it first you know . . .

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"I'm good enough. I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me." - Stuart Smalley (Al Franken), Saturday Night Live