Best Karaoke Song?

Lowbrow Answer: "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey
She's just a small town girl and she took the midnight train going anywhere? How? Where the hell are this girl's parents? Getting on a train to meet up with some strange city boy sounds like the opening sequence of NBC's "To Catch a Thief." I can guarantee you that girl is going to end up drunk on the floor of some motel with her pants around her ankles, while Mr. City Boy hotfoots it to Mexico with her purse.

And as if this song weren't already annoying enough, those miscreants from "Glee" had to go and cover it. So now we've got an entire race of perky teenagers humming the tune while they listen to their pink iPods and text their friends. Where's a mass infanticide when you need one.


Middlebrow Answer: "We are the Champions," by Queen
You are the champions? Of what? You just win the World Cup? Capture the Super Bowl? Eat 129 hot dogs in three and a half minutes? No. No, you didn't. Because you're a balding fat-ass singing karaoke in a rundown Marriott in New Hampshire. You're a lot of things, but a champion isn't one of them.

Although, it's hard to argue with Freddie Mercury. What a badass. Ridiculous voice, awesome tight pants, and great music. Rumor has it that when Mercury found out he had AIDS, he ignored doctors and just threw a bunch of wild parties before he died. Makes sense. Let's see, do I want to waste away in a hospital bed or snort cocaine off a retarded midget's titty?


Highbrow Answer: "The Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor
It's seventeen minutes long. There is no singing. It features apocalyptic poetry and weird ambient noise. If you've never heard this song, click here and get educated on the first ten minutes of it, at least. Think of it as an investment in your future. A little gift from me to you.

I can just picture the scene. A crowded Alabama bar with a shitty karaoke machine in the corner. A blond slut just sang "Like a Virgin" in the single most non-ironic ironic moment ever. They call your name. You take a deep breath, pull up your skinny jeans, and step toward the mic. Four minutes into this song, people start to boo. Eight minutes in, they start throwing beer. Sixteen minutes in and The Department of Homeland Security shows up to arrest you for being Un-American. Mission accomplished. Highbrow achieved.