Bo Burnham: Make Happy Page #5

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go see the rest of them, all right? "This thing actually happened." -Cool.

-[audience laughing] [man in audience] Whoo!

[Bo] Boy, oh, boy. Any big fans of country music out there? -[audience cheering]

-Yeah. Ooh, some people extending my name.

"Boo," that's also approval. -Uh, I think...

-[audience laughing] I think country music... gets a bad rep. You know, why is it that

when Bruce Springsteen sings about a f***ing turnpike it is art, and then when someone sings

about a horse, it's dumb inherently?

I don't think... [scoffs] I think some of the greatest songwriters

of all time are country artists. Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson...

You know? And if you're writing honestly,

that is art. And I would never bash that.

Um, the problem is... with a lot of modern country music,

what is called stadium country music, the sort of Keith Urban brand

of country music, is that it is not honest. -It is the exact opposite of honest.

-[country music playing] Where instead of people

actually telling their stories, you got a bunch

of millionaire metrosexuals who've never done

a hard day's work in their life, but they figured out the words

and the phrases they can use to pander to their audience, and they list the same words

and phrases off, sort of mad-lib style in every song, raking in millions of dollars

from actual working-class people. You know the words.

You know the phrases. Phrases like... A dirt road, a cold beer A blue jeans, a red pickup A rural noun, simple adjective [audience laughing] No shoes, no shirt No Jews

You didn't hear that [audience laughing] Sort of a mental typo. I walk and talk like a field hand But the boots I'm wearing

Cost three grand I write songs about riding tractors From the comfort of a private jet I could sing in Mandarin You'd still know I'm pandering Hunting deer, chasing trout A Bud Light with the logo facing out Hear that subtle mandolin That's textbook pandering I own a private ranch

That I rarely use I don't like dirt. One verse, one chorus in the bag. Now it's time to talk to the ladies. I'm hoping my Southern charm offsets

all these rape-y vibes I'm putting out. Good girl in a straw hat With her arms out in a cornfield That is a scarecrow Thought it was a human woman.

Sorry. A cold night, a cold beer A cold jeans

Strike that last one I'm wanting you

I hope you're feeling me Subtextually. We go to bed

You doze off So I take your country girl

Clothes off I put my hands on your body It feels like hay

It's a f***ing scarecrow again Like Mike's Evander-ing F*** your ears, I'm pandering I write songs for the people who do Jobs in the towns

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