If only, Lord, if only...
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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.
