This shit is bananas.

Remember Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl? I do. For nearly two years, the lyrics have been driving me bananas. See I'm going bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. What on earth did all this mean? What was a hollaback girl? Why was this shit bananas? And why did Gwen have to spell it out for us?

That was back in August of 2005. Little did I know at that time that one Mr. Greg Stacy had unlocked the proverbial door to the song. He had studied it and had made some sense of the seemingly nonsensical lyrics. What was a hollaback girl? Mr. Stacy explains: “Gwen is apparently the captain of the cheerleader squad; she is the girl who “hollas” the chants, not one of the girls who simply “hollas” them back.” Why was this shit bananas? Why is it spelled out? According to Mr. Stacy, “Here, Gwen steps away from this bloody spectacle for a moment to comment on the madness and ugliness of what we’ve just witnessed, and, by extension, the petty rivalries of high school in general. This shit is bananas, Gwen tells us, and we can only agree. And lest we miss the point, she spells it out. And repeats it another three times.”

For a full analysis of Hollaback Girl: This shit is bananas.

Once I had Gwen’s mystery deciphered, though, I began to think about other songs. some time ago, “Charlie” (a.k.a. AIDS Boy from the always-entertaining On sleeping with Republicans) and I were discussing the song MacArhur Park. Someone left a cake out in the rain. But why? Why is all this sweet green icing melting? Does the song make any sense or is it an acid trip flashback? There must be something in there that makes sense.

For over a year (since the AIDS Boy debacle) I've pondered this question. If Mr. Stacy can decipher out Hollaback Girl, surely I can figure out MacArthur Park. And with a little help from a friend of mine (who is way too skinny for his own good), here goes.

Spring was never waiting for us, girl.
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance.

Clearly, a much older man wanted to have a springtime affair with a young girl who wears too much yellow. (This much will become clear later.) And so their affair commences. However, the powers that be -- Mother Nature, God, whatever or whomever those powers are -- recognize that such a springtime affair would be wildly inappropriate, what with the man being so inappropriately old. Thus, Spring did not wait for them. They attempted their affair, but often found themselves rained upon. Serves that older man right, too. Shame on him for his Lolita complex.

Between the parted pages and were pressed
In love's hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants.

Despite nature's telling this couple not to proceed, they proceed nonetheless. They are pressed together. In love's hot iron. Like a pair of pants being pressed at the dry cleaner's. And this was the 1940s. Gangster pinstripes from the '20s were "retro." They were all the rage. Of course the pants were striped. Polka dots hadn't come into style yet. How's that for some imagery?

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark.
All the sweet, green icing flowing down.

All that rain on the lovers' proverbial parade. Now, just in case you, dear readers, were unaware, MacArthur park is a real place. Back in the '40s and '50s, it was a little piece of heaven out in L.A. Young couples picnicked there. The locals played checkers and backgammon at little tables. But all that rain as the much older man and young girl tried to catch up with Spring. So sad. They try to have picnics of their own... but alas...

Someone left a cake out in the rain.
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it.
And I'll never have that recipe again.

The lovers attempt their picnic once more. The young girl prepares a lovely cake. Chocolate. With green butter cream frosting. They have fried chicken as well. And sandwiches. And lemonade. All spread out on a red gingham tablecloth. Oh, what a lovely picnic. But it starts to rain. (Will the couple ever learn??? They are simply not meant to be together!) So the girl and the older man run about, picking up food, bringing it into the car, trying to save it from the ravages of the downpour. But in their haste someone leaves a cake out in the rain. The cake is destroyed. The young girl, lovely as she is, had improvised with the recipe. It took her hours to make. The special ingredient was love. But the cake was destroyed. She'll never be able to make it again. Indeed, she is starting to realize that the affair was a bad idea. She will never have the love in heart -- that special ingredient -- to make the cake again. She just can't take it.

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees.

The affair is over. The young girl has come to her senses. The older man is wistful. He has masturbatory fantasies about her yellow cotton dressed. The one that lay on the ground around her knees as she bend over his swelling member. Before their cake was destroyed. Before she left him. Before she realized it was a love that would never be.

The birds, like tender babies in your hands.
And the old men playing checkers by the trees.

He is nostalgic as he remembers how lovely the girl was. How she saved little lost birds who had fallen from the nest. He recalls the old men playing checkers. Did those men see what really went one between the couple?

And then we hear the chorus once more. MacArthur's Park is melting. The young girl in the yellow has left him. And he is left to wonder... where did the love go? What might have happened if that cake hadn't been left out in the rain?