This article appeared in the 2007 edition of the annual Halloween joke issue. The content below was intended for entertainment and parody purposes only and is not true. Happy Halloween!
When I was listening to this record, I was looking in the mirror, reflecting (pun intended: I’m so witty) about how this record made me feel about me. Does this record enhance who I am? Does this record make me a Statler salad when I let myself eat? Does this record pay me to listen to it like daddy pays me to listen to him? Does my lipstick match my highlights? Screamin’ Jay Hawkins really spoke to me when he was singing. He put a spell on me, or more accurately, I let him put me under a spell when I was feeling generous. When I listened to the record, it reminded me of the time that mother put a spell on me, before she was inexplicably struck down by a chance lightning bolt. I screamed, much like the name Screamin’ Jay Hawkins took to sing this song to me. It’s like Screamin’ Jay Hawkins named himself, and the song, after me, but not in a way that makes my butt look better in these leggings and this lipstick doesn’t match my highlights.