Mouse in My Pants

 

It was sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s. I was somewhere between 10 and 14...maybe 15. I was on the second floor of our barn in Northeastern Indiana, "helping" my dad clean out the corn crib.

I say "helping" because I remember doing a lot of watching and very little actual shoveling or sweeping.

Times being when they were, I was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of, if not official bell-bottoms, at least a pair of pants with a healthy flare at the end of each leg.

This proved to be a poor choice in attire.

There were several ears of corn trapped between some slats of wood and the outer wall of the barn. When FlatulenceKing (my father) yanked on those slats, a mouse ran out from the comfort of its corn palace, across the barn floor, and directly into the warm safety of my pants' leg.

To be precise, the little varmint hooked its claws into the inside of my left pant leg and headed north as fast as it could scamper.

I trapped it against my thigh just as it reached the halfway point between my knee and my future generations.

With panic on my face and in my voice, I exclaimed, "What do I do?!?"

Dad grinned and said, "Squeeze as hard as you can."

Well...you can bet your sweet bippy I squeezed as hard as I could. I squeezed until my fingernails drew blood from the heel of my hand through two layers of fabric.

And then the moment of truth.

I released my deathgrip, vigorously shook my leg, and watched the flea-taxi hit the floor and scamper away.

Then I had to go help my dad get off the floor...where he was rolling and laughing.

Why Do I Even WATCH Television?

 

I freely admit to being a television junkie during my growing-up years. I told the time by what was on television. I estimated how long an activity would take using units of time called "sitcoms", e.g., "It should only take me two Hogan's Heroes to get that done."

But as I've matured, I find myself getting irritated by things I see on TV that don't make sense to me at all:

• Self-important people who think that yelling “Find my son…now!” has some kind of positive effect on the performance of the personnel of the Missing Persons Unit.
• Police officers who reject the idea of walking up to a suspect and instead, from 20 yards away, announce, “Jimmy Logan, we’re the police and we need to talk to you!” (Invariably creating the next item on my list.)
• Suspects who think they can get away from the police by running down a crowded sidewalk.
• Suspects who think they can outdraw a police officer who ALREADY has a gun aimed at them.
• Doctors who shout "Page Neuro!" to absolutely no one else standing there.
• Heart monitor alarms that burst into loud action in the middle of a routine operation because that's the only way the writers can pack any excitement whatsoever into four people standing around a bloody mannequin. 

Maybe I should read more books.

#MusicToGainWeightBy: The 390th Greatest Song

 

In 1964, The Four Tops had been a touring musical act for a decade, but without a major hit. Then, following a gig in a Detroit bar, songwriter Brian Holland invited them to the Motown studios, where they spent the rest of the night recording what would be the group's first million-seller...making it to Number 11 on the Billboard Hot 100.

The thing is, "Baby, I Need Your Lovin'," by The Four Tops, didn't start out as a depressed cry from a lonesome loser. Before the lyric was revised, it was a Weird-Al-worthy plea for some home cooking.

Baby, I need your oven

Baby, I need your oven

Although you're far away

My friends often hear me say

Another pie, another cake

I love all the things you bake

'Cause I'm so hungry

Baby, I need your oven

Got to have all your oven

Some say it's a sign of weakness

For a man to beg

Then weak I'd rather be found

If it means havin' you around

'Cause lately I've been losin' pounds

Baby, I need your oven

Got to have all your oven

In a totally unrelated story, lead singer Levi Stubbs gained 12 pounds while recording this song.

Almost the News XXXI

 

Real Headlines. Fake News

South Korea's Impeached President Formally Arrested
It was a black-tie affair at the Seoul Jail

Manure Practices Harming Well Water
Coach Taurus Scat is quoted as saying "I think we'll have it down pat in time for the weekend."

Waterlogged South, Midwest Face Rising Rivers, Flash Floods
No word yet on the filing of charges for indecent exposure

Fed Up, State GOP Fights Far-right Group
Party spokesperson, O. Penmouth, said, "There's no way we were going to try this on an empty stomach."

Clinton Remembers Oklahoma City Bombing
The former president is quoted as saying, "Now, if only I could remember where I left my phone."

Teachers Accuse Board of Meddling
Ossian Elementary's Mrs. Hunter: "Stupid piece of wood has no business even expressing an opinion."

Echolocution Revisted

 

Consider, dear reader, the lowly contronym: a single word with two contradictory meanings. They don't happen often, but when they do, sentences become ... let's just say ... unique.

Release the door's bolt so I can bolt out of here.

I would be bound for Phoenix, if only my feet were not bound.

The restaurant had to garnish the chef's wages to be able to garnish the entrees.

She has a real servant's heart. She can't help but help.

We need to dust this room for fingerprints before the maid comes in to dust.

Make this rope fast to the rail, and do it fast.

We always do personalized work. It is our custom to do a custom job.

There is only one person left in the room. Everyone else left.

Here's something I'd like to throw out for your consideration: Let's throw out all members who haven't paid their dues.

Don't trip as you make your trip up the aisle.

Let's wind up this top, let it go, and try to guess where it might wind up.

If the bridge doesn't hold up, it's going to hold up traffic.

Let's put out feelers to see who can put out the fire.

A strike is when the batter fails to strike the ball.

The alarm is going off! Somebody needs to turn it off!

I need to lose weight. Otherwise, my belt buckle might buckle under the stress.

Please overlook this task so nothing gets overlooked.

The committee chose to sanction the sanction of plastic bags. (The committee approved the boycott of plastic bags.)

We're going to weather the stormy weather in this weathered barn. (Why am I weeding this sentence wike Elmer Fudd?)

The Unconsummated Marriage: The 391st Greatest Song

 

In its day, "Band of Gold," by Freda Payne, sparked a bit of controversy: Was it about an impotent man or a frigid woman? Here are the lyrics that had tongues wagging...

We kissed after taking vows

But that night on our honeymoon

We stayed in separate rooms

I understand how a person could think that situation was the result of a romantic mishap, but I don't think that interpretation is required. I mean, maybe their hotel reservation got messed up or something!

Okay, I admit the next verse leans a little more toward the sexual dysfunction theory:

I wait in the darkness of my lonely room

Filled with sadness, filled with gloom

Hoping soon

That you'll walk back through that door

And love me like you tried before

But what people forget is that the whole relationship apparently started with a violent abduction:

You took me from the shelter of my mother

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Then again, maybe the groom just got freaked out by the seven fingers on his bride's right hand.

SNL, Disney, and My Cowbell Embarrassment

 

Apparently, I'm weird.

Well ... maybe unique is a better word.

Case in point:

Back in the days when Will Ferrel was a Saturday Night Live cast member, there was a particular sketch featuring Mr. Ferrel in a too-small-for-him shirt, playing cowbell as Blue Oyster Cult records their hit, "Don't Fear the Reaper." As the record producer, Christopher Walken repeatedly interrupts the recording to ask for ... and later, forcefully demand ... more cowbell.

It was pretty hilarious and even ended up being featured as a whole episode of the recent docuseries on SNL's 50 years of existence.

Okay ... now ...

Go back to the theatrical release of Disney's "live action" remake of The Jungle Book. I'm sitting in a packed movie theater. Mowgli is sitting in the orangutans' temple, which is strewn with found objects and treasures collected by the apes, about to meet their monarch, King Louie.

With the what-I-thought-was-common knowledge that Christopher Walken was the voice of King Louie, I saw Mowgli reach into the pile of stuph and pull out, with curiosity and confusion, a cowbell.

I laughed mightily.

I was the only one.

Apparently, I'm weird.