If only, Lord, if only...
Skyline Chili Opens Locations in Apple Valley, Saint Paul, and the Mall of America
Walter Cronkite Returns to Broadcast News with Integrity and Reliability
Hulu and Paramount+ End Ads for Subscribers Because They're Already Paying for the Service
All Variants of COVID-19 Now in Rearview Mirror
Congress Admits They Need Term Limits and Unanimously Passes the Legislation
Minnesota Blogger Tapped to Write for The Babylon Bee
Mick Jagger and company are not well known for their sentimentality, but what if their greed got the better of them and they recorded an album of Christmaslicious versions of some of their biggest hits?
The tuneful authorization of pumping gas outside but paying inside doesn't stop just because children are sleeping with visions of sugarplums in their heads:
To see/hear Dewey singing these tunes, go to YouTube: https://youtu.be/GvZWCiWnHWg
Three years ago, I helped shore up the supply of Christmas movies by suggesting the festivalization of several movies. Well, the time has come for me to come to the rescue once again. Look for these holly-jolly remakes to be coming to a theater near you in the near future.
The teen-tragedy tune, "Leader of the Pack", performed by the Shangri-Las, comes in at number 447 on Rolling Stone's list of The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time and has all the angst and deep, deep drama one would expect. Check out Wikipedia's straightforward description of the song's plot:
The song is about a girl named Betty, who is asked by friends to confirm that she is dating Jimmy, the leader of a motorcycle gang, whose ring they see on Betty's finger. After singing of love at first sight ("(By the way, where'd you meet him?) I met him at the candy store/He turned around and smiled at me/You get the picture?/(Yes, we see) That's when I fell for the Leader of the Pack"), Betty's heart turns to despair as she bemoans her parents' disapproval. The parents claim Jimmy hails from "the wrong side of town" and ask Betty to tell Jimmy goodbye and find someone new. Betty reluctantly does as she is asked, and a crushed and tearful Jimmy speeds off on his motorcycle. Moments later, Betty's pleas for Jimmy to slow down are in vain as Jimmy crashes on a rain-slicked surface and dies.
There have been plenty of parodies produced:
I thought I'd kick around a few ideas of my own; maybe get Weird Al to record one:
Financial independence, here I come.
Right off the bat, let me give a big thank you to B-Rad DontWingDuck for observing today's absurdity and bringing it to my attention just in time for Christmas shopping. It has given me much to ponder...well...at least enough to create a post.
For any vision-challenged members of the congregation, allow me to describe the picture I now set before you. It is a plastic bag with a low-grade cardboard seal, upon which are printed words declaring the contents of the bag to be an ACTION PLAYSET featuring Godzilla (King of the Monsters) vs. Jesus (King of the Jews). The contents of the bag are proudly listed as Godzilla™, Jesus™, and Military Figures.
The size of the military vehicles and infantry personnel, in comparison to Godzilla, appears to be fairly accurate. It makes Godzilla look big enough to wreak significant havoc in Tokyo.
However...
Because Jesus appears to be the same size as Godzilla, that would seem to indicate the Christ the Redeemer statue that overlooks Rio de Janeiro is actual size.
I have a few unresolved questions:
Who trademarked Jesus?
If Jesus and Godzilla are duking it out, which one feels the need to involve the U.S. Military?
What match-ups did Forked Tongue Toys reject before deciding Godzilla vs. Jesus was appropriate?
Forget trying to figure out cold fusion. Get me the answers to these questions so I can start sleeping soundly again!
Earlier this year was my 42nd wedding anniversary with Beloved. In that time, I have learned many a lesson about human husbandry. The story that follows is how I learned to just give up trying to surprise the woman I love.
Once upon the early Eighties, I was a married college student with one daughter, studying to become a youth minister at a Bible college in Cincinnati, Ohio. (From whence springeth my undying devotion to Skyline Chili.)
In one class session, my youth ministry professor, Rave Streetmug, gave us a plethora of ideas for making our personal visits with the teenagers that would soon be within our spiritual care something memorable. One of those ideas was to take them to McDonald's for a Coke and a conversation...but take along a tablecloth and candles and cloth napkins and glistening stemware to create a semi-formal atmosphere.
I thought that sounded hilarious and that I could use it not only in the context of making a memorable visit with my future youth group members but in livening up a date with Beloved; a date that had to be cheap (see "married college student with one daughter", above).
I secretly gathered the required props: a piece of gold lame' cloth to use as a table covering, a white candle, a gold-leaf candle holder, glasses that didn't have cartoon characters on them...
I printed out an invitation for "a private, semi-formal evening in the company of the man who adores you" and got her to RSVP six days in advance.
The magic evening arrived. I had surreptitiously placed the props in our car's trunk. I had appropriately complimented my bride's beauty and was opening the door to our apartment for her when she said, "We better not be going to McDonald's or something."
The silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of my balloon of hope being deflated with a decidedly flatulent tone.
I'm a child of the Seventies, which is to say, my coming-of-age just missed "The Summer of Love" but was in full swing in time for the bicentennial of the U.S.A.'s Revolutionary War.
There was definitely a "drug culture", even in my rural high school, but it centered on wacky tobaccy. Add to that my tendency to be a rule-follower and my foundational fear of having my parents catch me doing anything illegal or immoral, and you will surmise that I had no practical knowledge of the harder dopamine-releasing substances like cocaine, heroin, or sexual fulfillment.
And so...
When I saw that Number 448 on the Rolling Stone list of The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time was "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground, and read lyrics like "Cause it makes me feel like a man when I put a spike into my vein" and "Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life because a mainer to my vein leads to a center in my head, and then I'm better off dead because when the smack begins to flow, I really don't care anymore about all the Jim-Jim's in this town and all the politicians makin' crazy sounds and everybody puttin' everybody else down and all the dead bodies piled up in mounds"...well... I saw all that and I started picturing a shirtless 80's punk rock band screaming into cheap microphones.
Imagine my shocked surprise to learn that Lou Reed wrote the song in 1964.
1964!
As in "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and "Last Kiss", 1964!
As in Louis Armstrong singing "Hello Dolly" was Number Three, 1964!
The big groups were the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and the Supremes. "Velvet Underground" sounds like the title of a cheap porn film.
I was today years old when I learned that I have always been an old coot.
I've been having fun with an app called ReFace, and it has allowed me to show Hollywood the grave mistakes they made when, instead of casting me, they gave significant roles to...
...Ian McKellen
...Michael J. Fox
...Jackie Chan
...Steve Carell
...Clint Eastwood
...Tom Hanks
...Johnny Depp
It's a simple enough task I've set before myself today. My job is to take the name of a band and tweak it in some way so it becomes edible. Feel free to add your own in the comments.
The Beetles (I said edible, not necessarily delicious.)
Blood, Sweat and Pears
Bon Bon Jovi
Buffalo Wings Springfield
Chicago Deep Dish
Cream
Crosby, Dills, Gnash & Yum
Depeche a la Mode
Diana Ross & the Krispy Kremes
The Door Jams
Earth, Wind & Fire-Roasted Nuts
Fleetwood Mac & Cheese
Grateful Bread
The Peach Boys
Pink Salmon Floyd
Red Hot Chili Peppers
The Rolling Scones
Simon & Garpretzel
Smashing Pumpkin Pies
Smokey Links & the Miracles
The story goes that Paul McCartney wrote "Penny Lane," which is full of memories of his growing up years, as a result of having heard John Lennon's "Strawberry Fields Forever," which is full of memories of HIS growing up years, assuming John's youth was spent in a Tourettes-like burst of non-sequiturs and verbal bulimia.
Music critics Roy Carr and Tony Tyler characterized the "Penny Lane" lyric as describing "Liverpool-on-a-sunny-hallucinogenic-afternoon."
Some of the phrases DO bear a bit of explaining...
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mac
In the pouring rain, very strange
I'm guessing we are meant to assume the children think it's funny for a banker to own a car but apparently not a raincoat ("mac"). I prefer to think the humor lies in the banker having repossessed a car but needing to park it on the street during a rainstorm because his underground garage is flooded.
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
Road grit and gravel may be causing permanent damage to both Paul's hearing and visual acuity.
In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen
A low-tech Luddite is in charge of fighting fires. Help!
Fish and finger pies
This is just plain gross and needs to stop.
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
If she IS in a play, why the word "though"? It's like saying, "She's in a play, however, she thinks she's in a play."
Darn Brits...don't know how to speak plain English.
Poor Bjorn. A Viking's life of transatlantic pillaging just wasn't fulfilling. He needed a creative outlet. So, he turned his back on the ocean, grabbed a few friends, and formed the group, ABBA: After-Boat Bjorn Associates.
They did amazingly well in the cutthroat music business...perhaps because they were already familiar with cutting throats. Just look at the string of Top-40 hits they produced:
Rowing Me and Rowing You - We'll go in circles with one, not two
S.O.S - The raft you gave me, nothing else can save me, S.O.S.
Take a Cruise - If you loot this town, I will be around. Lena, I'm still free. Take a cruise with me.
Bjarney - The wind was filling up our sails that night, the stars were bright, Bjarney. You were using them to plot our course, because we're Norse, Bjarney.
Waterlogged - Waterlogged! Couldn't float now even in a bog. Waterlogged! Knowing my fate is to sleep with frogs.
Mamma Mia - Mamma mia, you Italians! My my, how I love to pillage!
Viking Queen - Use an axe! Use a knife! No problem taking a life. Ooh, see that girl; she's so mean, diggin' the Viking queen!
To see/hear the author reading/singing this post, click here.
You'll be glad to know that I am still singing songs to authorize in-store payment for out-store vehicle fueling at the gas station/convenience store/tobacco emporium known within the confines of this blog as FastStop.
Further good news is that there is now a list of Beatles parodies that are bringing surprise, delight, and/or shock and dismay to unsuspecting motorists.
(I Saw Her Standing There)
(Let It Be)
(Lady Madonna)
(Eight Days a Week)
To hear these tunes in all their radiant splendor, go to YouTube by CLICKING HERE.
Number 450 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time is a geographical hot mess.
Jimmy Webb starts "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" with these words:
By the time I get to Phoenix, she'll be rising
Assuming he's starting from Los Angeles and that she's getting up around 6:30 to get ready for her morning commute, that means he needs to start heading east on Interstate 10 at 1:00 AM.
The second verse starts:
To make that bit of narrative possible, he'll head roughly northeast on a series of state highways until he hits I-40...and she'll be taking her lunch break at 1:00.
Third verse. Different than the first. And our little map adventure gets a little bit worse:
By the time I make Oklahoma, she'll be sleeping
This is where I start disbelieving the whole scenario.
From Albuquerque, New Mexico, to the Oklahoma state line is a drive of five hours and 45 minutes. It is now 6:45 PM in Los Angeles, she obviously has taken at least one dose of a sleeping pill, and he has driven for almost 18 hours.
Methinks he's a little obsessed with the whole romantic notion of traveling across the country just to prove her wrong when she thinks that he won't really go.
Wouldn't leaving his apartment key on top of a tersely-written note suffice? Sheesh.
I've been told that one positive result of 2020 and self-quarantining and all that jazz is the blossoming of hidden interests and abilities. It seems almost everyone is developing a new hobby for themselves.
Normally, I would say that's a good thing, but methinks this particular bookstore is feeding into a slightly dangerous obsession.
Landing at 451 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 greatest songs of all time is "The Twist" (not to be confused with "The Twizzle", Dick Van Dyke fans). It was first recorded as a throwaway B side by Ballard and the Midnighters in 1958, but became a number one hit when recorded and released in 1960 by Chubby Checker (not to be confused with Fats Domino, word origin fans).
The twist you may be expecting is the bit-o-trivia that Chubby Checker's recording is the only single in pop music history to have reached number one on the charts two separate times; once in 1960 and again in 1962.
But the twist I'm talking about isn't that.
I'm pretty sure you've never been told that not only did Checker rerecord "The Twist," he also changed the words.
You're no doubt familiar with:
But did you know that the lyric was originally:
Stick around, kids, I'm full of all kinds of stuff you never knew.
Every so often, when I'm working at my local gas station/convenience store/tobacco emporium (FastStop), the computer behind the cash registers will sound an alarm, vibrate, and start to emit wisps of acrid smoke.
This is its passive-aggressive way of letting us know there is an important message that needs attention.
On February 10th of this year, that important message was about a product recall:
"Tropicana, Inc. is voluntarily withdrawing a specific lot of KeVita Cucumber Rosemary Sparkling Probiotic 15.2 oz because it is mislabeled."
"Cucumber Rosemary Sparkling Probiotic"?
They might as well have tried to foist Pickle Lilac Carbonated Calamine on the assembled masses.
An itsy bit from Almost the Dictionary: The Almost the Truth™ Dictionary of What Words Ought to Actually Mean: A Lexicon for Parallel Thinkers.
Zagged (verb) - What I should have done when I actually zigged
Zaman (n) - What you are
Zany (phrase) - The question asked when the speaker wants to know if some examples of what is being searched for have been located visually.
Zap (n) - Politically incorrect nickname for a native of Zapan
Zapper (n) - An electric goad used for changing television channels
ZEAL (acronym) - Zebras Exiting Africa Legally
Zeal (n) - any of numerouz carnivorouz marine mammalz that live chiefly in cold regionz and have limbz modified into webbed flipperz adapted primarily to zwimming; often erroneouzly confuzed with a zea lion.
Zebra (n) - Can't even imagine how large that must be
Zesty (n) - Where French pigs live
Zigged (verb) - What I actually did when I should have zagged.
I've never heard anyone say a negative word about any of Sam Cooke's songs. And rightly so! The mixture of early 60's innocence and smooth, sweet vocals makes a crowd-pleasing combo.
But there's one song of his, "Cupid", that we really should take a closer look at.
On the surface, sure, it seems like a teenager secretly longing to be noticed by a girl he is smitten with:
This is clearly a case of homicidal stalking.
Early 60's innocence, my foot.
Sunday, August 15, 2021. It was a fairly-pleasant afternoon with a sunny sky and low-ish humidity. There was just enough breeze to keep a stage performer from demonstrating spontaneous human combustion.
It was also, as much as it is in my power to foretell, the last time I will perform in the Dakota Chautauqua at the Dakota County (MN) Fair.
It started as a one-time celebration of Dakota County's sesquicentennial (look it up) in 1999. Just a collection of short scenes and original songs, it managed to educate, amuse, and stir the heart all at the same time.
After a three-year run by a different production crew and cast, and a three-year gap with nothing happening, the original writing/directing team of Pete Martin and Eric Peltoniemi cranked things up again in 2012 and, other than the silent summer of 2020, has been making Minnesota history hysterical ever since.
Over the course of 22 years, there have been 16 productions in which I've sweat gallons, sung myself hoarse, eaten enough fried food to KILL a horse, and made some rich friendships.
But now?
Now it's time to close this chapter. Maybe some other fools will pick up the gauntlet and take the tradition further down the road, and if they do, I wish them cool weather, just a few mosquitos, and audiences that laugh loudly and applaud with exuberance.
Everyone in the Central time zone: (Happily nodding off to sleep)
Me: I wonder if I could come up with a blog's worth of funny movie titles by dropping just one letter from the title of a real movie?
Also Me: Sure you could. You did it over five years ago, you twit!
Everyone in the Central time zone: (Deeply ensconced in their personal REM cycles)
And Back to Me Again: Still...it's worth another go, right?
Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hop - A band of plucky rebels create a dance craze.
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the Kin - Frodo and all his cousins move into Bag End.
Snow White and the Seven Warfs - The rightful heir to the throne escapes from her hateful step-mother and lives on a series of misspelled docks.
Jurassic Par - An escaped T-Rex does okay playing golf once a special set of long-shanked clubs is designed.
Harry Otter and the Sorceror's Stone - An orphaned semiaquatic mammal enrolls in a school of wizardry, floats on his back, and plays with a magical artifact.
Schindler's Lit - Polish industrialist's wild college days.
Pup Fiction - Benji writes a novel.
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pear - Havoc is wreaked upon the high seas when Captain Jack Sparrow eats some spoiled fruit.
How the farnsworth did this ever happen?!!?
I was strolling along, minding my own beeswax, content in the knowledge that Jesus loves the little children of the world. Not a care had I. No, not one.
Then suddenly, the morning after taking Abby Dormire home from our Junior Prom, it was the 64th anniversary of my birth. (Actually, this past Monday.)
Paul McCartney wasn't even 20 when he wrote "When I'm Sixty-Four" and now he's 79.
I'm not sure why that sets me back on my heels the way it does...but it does.
With a release date of August 1987, and being recorded by Guns n' Roses, the 453rd greatest song of all time, "Paradise City," falls well outside the boundary of songs I give one-half a rip about.
At least that's the first thing I felt like saying about this song. Then I went and did it...I actually listened to it.
Then I went and did it...I read the words.
And now I'm back to not caring.
The really hurtful thing is that I can say nothing more sarcastic and funny about the song than what Rolling Stone already said:
For nearly seven minutes, they expound on the joys of green grass, pretty girls, and toxic chemicals. In a typically tasteful G n' R move, the video features footage of the band's 1988 gig at Castle Donington in the U.K. -- where two fans were crushed to death.
Tastefulness, empathy, and compassion. That's Paradise City right there.
I like how shopping at our local discount food store saves Beloved and me money on our bi-weekly grocery shopping adventures.
However...
I think I would really rather not know about all their cost-cutting measures.
For instance...
Apparently, it's more expensive to milk cows and process cheese than it is to shred canine flesh:
Yee-IKES!
A picayune unit from Almost the Dictionary: The Almost the Truth™ Dictionary of What Words Ought to Actually Mean: A Lexicon for Parallel Thinkers.
YACHT (acronym) - You Actually Covet Having This
YACK (acronym) - Young Americans Continually Kibitzing
Yaffle (n) - A two-day-old waffle
Yahoo (n) - A young adult owl
Yak (n) - A large, shaggy-hairy Tibetan ox with a mating call that sounds like vomiting.
Yale (n) - The penultimate version of a dark malt beverage
Yammer (n) - Verbal tool used to bore people to tears
Yams (n) - Sweet potatoes that self-identify as a different vegetable
Yank (v) - To pull quickly on someone as if they were from the northern United States.
Yearn (pronoun) - Belongin' to y'all; "Hey, is this here coondawg yearn?"
Okay...it's no new thing to point out that George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" and The Chiffons' "He's So Fine" are for all intense porpoises melodically equal. The claim has even been held up in court, with the quiet ex-Beatle being found guilty of "subconscious plagiarism" and paying over 1.5 million dollars of his income from "Lord" to the corporation that owns the copyright for "He's So Fine", Bright Tunes.
Sounds more like a very bright lawyer to me.
It does bring several questions to mind, though:
In honor of the upcoming Independence Day Neighborhood Explosion Competition, let us ponder the restructuring of some of our favorite movies to emphasize Truth, Justice, and the American Way.
The Obesity Games - Katniss Everfull eats her way to victory.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of ICE - Harry and Ronald are detained at the border.
The Wizard of Odds - Biopic about the creation of Ripley's Believe It or Not.
Pride and Prejudice - Uhhhh yep.
Singin' on the Train - A musical set on a cross-country Amtrack experience.
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Greed - Famed archeologist, Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., stumbles upon a secret cult of hedge fund managers.
Saving Ryan's Privates - I.T. security in the porn industry.
Willy Wonka and the Undocumented Chocolate Factory Workers - Just exactly what is the immigration status of all those Oompa-Loompas?
Forest Dump - A documentary about secret stashes of old washing machines, Corvairs, and mattresses.
It's a Wonderful Lie - Political intrigue...or...business as usual.
An excerpt from Almost the Dictionary: The Almost the Truth™ Dictionary of What Words Ought to Actually Mean: A Lexicon for Parallel Thinkers.
Xantham (n) - A stirring, loyalty-inducing song played before every x-ray procedure.
Xenoblast (n) - Third entry in the classic series, "Hearnoblast, Speaknoblast, Xenoblast"
Xenophone (n) - Device used to communicate with foreign entities
Xeranthemum (phrase) - "A heavy, colorless, chemically inactive, monatomic gaseous element moved the British mother with haste."
X-ray (n) - A person or animal that used to be named Ray
Xylene (n) - The umpteenth sequel to one of Dolly Parton's most-well-known songs
Xylophone (n) - A word that sounds like pieces of wood being struck by a soft hammer
Coming in at Number 455 on Rolling Stone's list of the "500 Greatest Songs of All Time" is a little ditty that needs to seriously rethink its relationships.
Rolling Stone calls it a "haunting meditation on remorse." I call it a repetitive set of couplets that will say anything in order to create a rhyme.
It starts out with a little bit of promise: "What else could I be? All apologies."
Okay. Apparently, Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love were having issues and he has decided to write a song to express his regret for his part in the conflict. Fine intention, though "what else could I be" doesn't really sound all that apologetic, does it? It seems kind of like "I am what I am! Sorry!"
And then it immediately goes south with the second line: "What else could I say? Everyone is gay."
Seriously, Kurt? Everyone? Gay?
I think what actually happened is that Kurt was sitting around strumming his guitar and he would say the first part of a line and Will Ferrell would spit out the first rhyme that came to mind.
Kurt: What else could I say?
Will: Uh...umm...Everyoneisgay!
Kurt: What else could I write?
Will: I don't have the right.
Kurt: You're kidding. That doesn't rhyme. It's the same BLEEPing word.
Will: They only sound the same. They're spelled differently. They're homophones.
Kurt: You got something against the LGBTQ community?
Will: Just go on.
Kurt: I'll take all the blame.
Will: Aqua seafoam shame.
Kurt: That's ridiculous! Get serious, Will!
Will: Fine.
Kurt: Sunburn. Freezer burn.
Will: Choking on the ashes of her enemy.
Kurt: That doesn't even rhyme!
Will: True, but it's very serious.
* * * * * * *
I've never been a Nirvana fan. And I make no apologies about that.
It has certainly been ungeographically hot for a while now.
I made up the term "ungeographically" to replace the more-normal word that would go in that sentence: "unseasonably".
Because the thing is, this stretch of highs in the 90-degree range fits right in with it being June...if I lived in a desert!
I'm in Minnesnowda for farnsworth's sake! People around here are used to needing to chip open the frozen mailbox as late as the 20th of May. Needing to run air conditioning other than during the two weeks of the State Fair in late August is unheard of.
However...
I refuse to actually complain. I don't want to be like the string of customers that drag themselves through FastStop's doors whining about how cold it is in February and March and then ALSO groaning and moaning about any heat that happens to make it up from the Gulf of Mexico during July.
And then there's those that actually prefer the cold: "I can always put on another sweater, but once I reach naked, I'm stuck."
There's a term for those who like the bitter cold of winter in the Great White North: weirdo.
"Look! I can throw boiling water into the air and it instantly turns into a cloud of ice crystals! Isn't it wonderful?"
Yeah, just as wonderful as how when I open my eyes, they instantly turn into frozen marbles.
♪♫ Dying in a winter wonderland ♫♪
