LIVINGSTON, MT—Megastar and virtuoso guitarist John Mayer reportedly released the first single, an apparent instant hit albeit covering rather peculiar subject material, entitled “Wild Poo,” from his new album, Slob Rock.
“What can I say,” said Mayer with a half-grin. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
The track, which Mayer proclaims as transcendent “yacht rock” features, a staple of his supreme guitar chops and songwriting prowess, subdued, catchy lyrics and masterful playing that crescendo into a perfectly measured, yet pleasurably disabling at times, guitar solo.
With the subtlety of songwriting so delicate and wistful, listeners might easily overlook the provocative hook, filled with disgorging excrement surging pleasantly out to sea accompanied by the soulful melodies of Mayer’s expressive guitar plucking:
“Wild poo, comes out bigger than I ever knew; wild poo, clogs a toilet, what a wild poo! I found myself surrounded in stench too!”
“Look, I clogged a hotel bathroom one time, and dialed the front desk who upgraded me to a suite,” Mayer explained of the song’s origins. “Talk about being hot shit!”
“Most people in the entertainment industry are full of shit,” Mayer pensively remarked with a constipated glare. “I figured I might as well squeeze out a big juicy one, you know? And while I prefer to distance myself from all of that smelly drama that fills the halls of the Academy with visible stench, I find rising above it to use your platform for social critique is crucial. Self-critique is a process, and flinging your ideas at the wall to see what sticks there with flies circling about like buzzards to a rotting corpse, that’s part of life, the growing pains that everyone, especially young people, experiences when faced with a miserable existence of doubt and indigestion (sic). You need to suck it up and move on and free your bowels (sic?). When life gives you lemons, clench, grunt, and squeeze like hell, you know what I mean?”
At press time, Mayer’s estate was contacted by the product management team at Pepto Bismol, who refused to comment further on the matter. However, neighbors saw Mayer returning to his Livingston home with an industrial-strength plunger and bearing a look of stark determination.