Party in the USDA
For reasons I can’t properly explain, the Miley Cyrus song “Party in the USA” is stuck in my head, only that’s not what I’m hearing. I’m hearing “Party in the USDA,” and I’m imagining smocked, hair-capped, and plastic-gloved meat inspectors jamming to the song. I often rewrite songs in my head, but usually I just insert the word “chickens,” in honor of the nickname of my childhood dog, into the lyrics. I think this is a sign of perhaps not having grown up as much as I like to think I have done, which is fine. Or maybe in this specific instance it’s just a defense mechanism so that I won’t have to admit I *actually* have a Miley Cyrus song in my head, one that I’m fairly sure I’ve never heard from beginning to end.
I also thought about going with USTA, but thinking of the US Open crowd listening to the song seemed a little too on-the-mark.