If you are unaware, My Chemical Romance is one of the finest bands to ever grace the ears of the universe. I know that’s an embarrassing understatement, but it’s all I’ve got without going all quantum and geeky. So it’ll suffice, only barely.

Slicing the air of my abode right this very now is “Mama” off the “The Black Parade” album. Back in 2009-ish I got a chance to gab with Ray Toro from My Chem and told him the tune sounded like an excellently sharp homage to Danny Elfman and Oingo Boingo. His reply: “Yep.” A man of many shreds and only one word. Actually, he had more than one word. After My Chem split he had a song out there that was him doing the solo multi-instrumentalist thing and providing vox to even the score. If that was any indication of the type of songs that were to be included on the aborted MCR V album . . . the world is the poorer for it. Let me see if I can find it on YouTube. Hang tight.

Found it! “Isn’t That Something.” There’s a tone of “I’m irked that the band split up” in the lyrics. What do you think? It’s a good tune. I haven’t listened to it in ages. I think it came out right about the time FFS was released – that’s Franz Ferdinand-Sparks the Supergroup. More in depth does this topic need. What a line up!

“Mama” is an excellent tune as well. Even though I interrupted my enjoyment of the song to find “Isn’t That Something” for you (you’re welcome … to the black parade!!!), it’s an easy fix and easy transition to get back to “Mama.”

A favorite segment of “Mama” is when Liza Minnelli jumps in and croons:

And if you would call me a sweetheart
I’d maybe then sing you a song . . .

With a call back from Gerard Way of biting profanity:

But there’s shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun
You’d cry you eyes out, all along

Which then devolves to Liza Minnelli moaning and wailing and basically carrying on a “whiny little girl hissy fit” infecting the joined MCR voiced refrain:


We’re damned, after all
Through fortune and flame, we fall
And if you can stay, then I’ll show you the way
To return from the ashes you call

We all carry on
When our brothers in arms are gone
So raise your glass high, for tomorrow, we die
And return from the ashes you call



“Mama” is a superb song complementary to a superb album. Likewise, (Liza Minnelli) is a superb friend complementary to a superb Bex. However hamfisted and clumsy the segue, all this exposition serves three purposes:

  1. Any excuse to praise My Chemical Romance is taken. My Chem is one of the very finest bands in the entire universe in the entire history of ever. Full stop.
  2. Liza Minnelli’s vox on “Mama” reminds me of the whiny, screechy, discordant, victimized, antagonistic, unprovoked, aggressive, and entirely inappropriate conversational skills and inexcusable behavior of Becky’s friend (Liza Minnelli).
  3. Becky’s friend (Liza Minnelli) is the epitome of a peer who takes little to no responsibility for her actions, behaviors, and willingness to adhere to the universal social contract we all signed as a culture – regardless of being a peer or not.

I’m a courteous dude. Ask anyone. If anyone says, “Steve is an itchy-ouchy hemorrhoidal tissue on the diseased rump of a Shanghai rickshaw driver who is not courteous at all,” they are in the minority and probably had it coming to them. For everyone else, I’m an exceptionally courteous and kind and cuddly dude who seeks not to call anyone out whilst making a salient point. Never mind the folks in MHRAC, Paula Burton, Rick Miera (Do you know how much Ricky spent on his failed stab at Lt. governor? Enough to fund quite a bit of CET), Danny Watley, David Ley, Luc of Zero Anger Issues, Scott the Emotional Vampire, Christina the Weak, Stephen the Asshat, Dancer, Prancer, Lancer Bass, Paula Burton, Robert Salazar, Paula Burton, Paula Burton, Paula Burton, Paula Burton, and Paula Burton. Aside from this rarified herd, I’m very courteous.

As such, I will not call out Becky’s friend of little-accountability. Instead, I will use the pseudonym Liza Minnelli in place of Becky’s friend’s real name, which is in no way similar to Liza Minnelli and isn’t a thinly disguised replacement along the lines of “Chriz” replacing “Chris.” This is nothing like that at all.

Onward. Imagine a lovely, pollen-choked early spring day in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The birds are chirping the chirp of indifference characteristic of animals created exclusively to deficate and urinate simultaneously as an efficient ballistic splat delivery system to sully motor vehicles and deserving cats. Machismo – competing with pollen as the most polluting airborne irritant – is in full bloom as manly Albuquerque motorists throw up their manly arms in manly displays of manly unhindered moral outrage because another (decidedly unmanly) motorist 200 yards ahead on I40 dares pull over into their manly lane of traffic that is apparently manly proprietary real estate from the front of their manly vehicle across the nation to Willington, North Carolina. And green chile. This is a lovely, pollen-choked early spring day in Albuquerque, a fine day for hanging out with Bex and two of her besties at Chez Bex. And one of these besties just happens to be the “Female Steve.”

That’s me. I’m Steve. The Female Steve is Liza Minnelli. Shiny.