I’m feeling a little silly today and I’m not entirely sure why. A good night’s sleep, some weird dreams, and a great cup of coffee. and “Ta Da”, here I am! I’ll start today with some true silliness. As I was surfing around yesterday, I stumbled upon a website called unijoke.com and it had a collection of jokes about “Little Johnny”. I’ve loved those jokes for many years, and I found one on that site that made me laugh out loud. That’s my criteria for determining funny. Here it is . . .
A teacher asks her class, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Little Johnny says “I wanna be a billionaire, going to the most expensive clubs, take the best bitch I can find with me, give her a Ferrari worth over a million bucks, an apartment in Hawaii, a mansion in Paris, a jet to travel through Europe, an Infinite Visa Card and to make love to her three times a day”. The teacher, shocked, and not knowing what to do with the bad behavior of the child, decides not to give importance to what he said and then continues the lesson. “And you, Susie? ” The teacher asks. Susie says “I wanna be Johnny’s bitch.”
Almost everyone loves Rock-and-Roll music except maybe for those Country & Western folks and the Hip-Hop idiots. I was thinking about all of the silly names’ musicians create for their bands to help them standout in the crowd. I’ll list a few oldies but goodies and I’m sure you can think of many more.
STOP CALLING ME FRANK
AFGHANISTAN BANANA STAND
BUDDY WHATSHISNAME AND THE OTHER FELLAS
THE COLOR FRED
THE NAUGAHYDE CHIHUAHUAS
QUESTION MARK AND THE MYSTERIANS
THE WELL I’M SURE I LEFT IT THERE YESTERDAY BAND
ME FIRST AND THE GIMMEE GIMEES
THE DISAPPOINTED PARENTS
SHE STOLE MY BEER
You have to admit those rockers had quite the imagination and used the hell out of it. The list of silly band names is never-ending but still fun. Here’s my final thought for today:
Recently while watching Facebook, I was entertained by a British comedian whose name I can’t remember, and his whole routine was based on mishearing or misreading music lyrics. He was hysterically funny and motivated me to do a little more research on the subject. Here are few samples of misheard lyrics that I’ve stumbled upon and will share with you.
“Gladly, the cross-eyed bear” This was taken from an old hymn, “Gladly the Cross I’d Bear”
“Dead ants are my friends, they’re blowing in the wind” from Bob Dylan, “The answer my friend is blow’in in the wind.”
“There’s a bathroom on the right.” Creedence Clearwater Revival, “There’s a bad moon on the rise.”
“Doughnuts make my brown eyes blue.” Crystal Gayle, “Don’t it make my brown eyes blue.”
“Just brush my teeth before you leave me.” Juice Newton, “Just touch my cheek before you leave me.”
“Baking carrot biscuits.” Bachman-Turner Overdrive, “Taking care of business.”
“I am a pool hall ace.” The Police, “My poor heart aches.”
“The girl with colitis goes by.” The Beatles, “The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”
“You and me and Leslie.” The Rascals, “You and me endlessly.”
“Midnight after you’re wasted.” Maria Muldaur, “Midnight at the oasis.”
I’m sure this has happened to all of us at one time or another as we cruised around in our car with the radio blaring. Traffic noises mixed with loud rock music and garbled lyrics make for some interesting mistakes. One or two of the ones listed above sound very similar to some I’ve made and there are many more but I’m not listing them. It’s a little embarrassing.
Now that Mother’s Day has come and gone, let’s look into something a bit more musical. Everyone seems to love music of one sort or another, so why don’t we all try to enjoy some music related limericks.
I’ve been something of a music collector involving music primarily from the 50’s, 60’s, and the mid 70″s. The amount of music produced after the 70’s leaves me unimpressed. You take all of the Rap, Hip Hop, and Country Western and have a huge bonfire. I’m certain it would be a beautiful sight. A lot of you will disagree vehemently and that’s your prerogative. To each their own.
As I was reading some music trivia publications last week, I found the following list. The 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s had their issues as well with weird bands of every sort. That’s only normal for the music business at its core. Let’s see how many of these groups you remember.
Afghanistan Banana Stand
Berth’s Mule
Buddy Whatshisname and the Other Fellows
The Color Fred
The Disappointed Parents
The Well I’m Sure I Left It There Yesterday Band
Me First and the Gimmee Gimmees
The Naugahyde Chihuahuas
Question Mark and the Mysterians
She Stole My Beer
Stop Calling Me Frank
The Tortillas You Wanted
I can honestly say that I’ve only heard of two of these bands and that is Question Mark and the Mysterians and Afghanistan Banana Stand. I don’t know of any songs either might have released but for some reason I know their names. As for the rest I haven’t a clue. If you know, let me know.
Here’s a well-known fact, I’m not a poet. I know a few people who have that skill and like it or not it is a rarity. I’ve tried over the years to read almost all of the more famous of the poets from this country and it leaves me uninterested and unmoved. I write a lot but when it comes to poetry my mind slides right into confusion. All of my poems (and there are a few) tend to be rude, abrasive, and at times erotic and funny. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around serious poetry because I just don’t have it in me. That being said, today I’ll offer up a sample of poetry and you can judge for yourself just how good it is. Let’s get started . . .
“Let me ask you one question,
Is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness?
Do you think that it could?
I think you will find,
When your death takes its toll,
All the money you made
will never buy back your soul.”
That little bit of poetry was written by an often-criticized poet, Bob Dylan, in 1963, from his song, Masters of War. As with most of his musical lyrics, they’re still as good today as they were then. I’ll pass on one more small piece of wisdom with one of his quotes, ” Money doesn’t talk, it swears.”
I’ve been a music lover since the age of seven. My tastes in music are eclectic to say the least because I love good old rock ‘n roll from the 50s and 60s, psychedelic rock from the 60s and 70s, and a few other things that caught my fancy along the way like opera and Glam Rock. Most people that know me would be shocked to know that I’ve been a David Bowie fan for many years and with his death the music industry lost a true star and innovator. This post today is celebrating the birth and introduction of Ziggy Stardust in London’s Toby Judge pub on February 10, 1972.
Bowie was just a minor rocker at the time but with the creation of Ziggy Stardust, Glam Rock was born. Any rock musician can put on a costume, but how many could have inhabited the identity of an androgynous Martian rock star come to Earth in its dying days, so effortlessly? To quote Vince Taylor, a figure well-known in late-’60s London, He was “A finger up the nose of pop sincerity…a boot in the collective sagging denim behind of hippie singer-songwhiners”. The album of the music age, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. was voted one of the top 30 concept albums in history.
David Bowie
With the death of David Bowie in New York City on January 10, 2016, music lost one of its greats. Fortunately for us all, Ziggy Stardust will live on forever.
Sixteen years ago, I was a lonely bachelor living with two ferrets and a cat. Part of my routine at that time was to explore the internet, read blogs, and participate in selected chat rooms. It was about that same time I serious became interested in blogging but was really unsure just how to get started. One of my favorite blogs at the time was called gutrumbles.com. The gentleman that ran that blog was Rob Acid-Man Smith. He captured my imagination immediately because he was brutally honest, totally outspoken with absolutely no filters, and had a great sense of humor. I exchanged emails with him for a time, learned a lot, and I was hooked. That day he became my blog-father. To say he upset a large number of people over the years was an understatement, but he did it with humor and a whole lot of truth. After reading his blog for almost two years I decided to give it a try myself.
My four years of blogging on my first blog were eye opening. I was brutally honest and voiced my opinions loudly and crassly. I spent most of my time complaining about politics, religion, and any other topic that piqued my interest. It was great fun, and the responses were more than just a little interesting. I actually received a number of death threats from idiots around the globe. That was enough to convince me I had more to say and to hell with the critics.
But as with all things age tends to mellow a person. I decided to discontinue that first blog and then created Every-Useless-Thing. Hoping against hope that I could mellow my opinions down a little and make the blog something more than a bitch session. I’ve been doing Every-Useless-Thing now for approximately eleven and a half years and ten months ago I felt myself slipping and losing my edge. A lot of it had to do with my medical issues but it was more than just that. Anytime I felt myself slipping in the past I returned to gutrumbles.com to reinvigorate me. Gut Rumbles continues today at Rob’s request even though Rob passed away in 2006. It was and will always be my “Happy Place”.
Today after that lengthy and boring explanation I’m going to repost an article from Acid-Man’s blog. Hopefully you’ll read his thoughts and then understand where I’m trying to come from. I hope you enjoy a little of Acid Man, because I always have. If you want some good reading, go to his blog and read some of his archives. Here he is!
I have a Southern accent. I drop the “g” off the end of gerunds, so I say talkin,’ climbin,’ smokin,’ and runnin’ instead of speaking standard American English the way Dan Rather does as he lies his ass off on the CBS Evening News.
I say y’all. I have ‘druthers. I know how far yonder is. I know how to see ’bout that. Whatchadoon is a real word to me.
That’s the reason I don’t like to talk on the phone. I sound like a goddam hick. I AM a goddam hick, but I am educated and I can communicate well when I want to. Where I live, everybody understands me just fine when I say, “Whatchadoon? I’d ‘druther ya not go ’bout it that way. Lemme show ya sumpin. Thadded be better, doncha think?” That’s Southern English and it works well in person-to-person communication.
Try that shit over the phone when you’re talking to a yankee. I doesn’t work. The yankee gets all nasal, I talk Southern and the next thing you know, we may as well be from foreign countries. That’s why I would prefer to write to someone I don’t know. I can appear to be halfway intelligent on paper.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about this communication gap. I COULD be like the BC and talk like a yankee at work and sound like the biggest hayseed on the farm at Quinton’s football games, but I’m not a chameleon, able to change my skin color and blend into the scenery the way she can. Everything that woman does is an act and she wears many masks. I’m not built that way. Like Popeye, I am what I am and that’s all that I am.
Sometimes, that’s not the right way to be. Honesty is not always the best policy.
Today is DUMB day here in Maine. No, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be DUMB today but all things being considered I might be DUMB tomorrow. This word is used almost as heavily as “shit” and “fuck”. One bad move and you are immediately labeled a “DUMB shit” or a “DUMB fuck”. You may have only made a minor mistake but you’re still painted with a broad brush that identifies you as someone who screwed up in a big way. Our language is not fair and not for the faint of heart. Have you ever heard the term “dumbassary” or how about “shitheadedness”? You can build your own words and introduce them into the lexicon and pray that someone repeats them, that they then catch on, and all of a sudden you’ve been immortalized. People everywhere use the word DUMB and some even attempt to make money from its use. Here are few examples . . .
A 1998 song by the group “Garbage” was named DUMB.
Another group of fine upstanding musicians called “The 411” used it as a song title way back in 2004.
And probably one of the more famous weird bands, “Nirvana”, sang their hearts out in their 1993 In Utero album to the song DUMB. Later found to be highly prophetic when Kurt Cobain, the lead singer, offed himself with a shotgun. And lucky us because of that incident the magical title of celebrity was passed onto the band “Hole” and introduced us to Courtney Love. Really, how DUMB was that?
As flexible as the word DUMB is, the language has also supplied us with dozens of words with DUMB as the underlying meaning. If you hear any of the following words used in describing you in any fashion, the speaker is in fact, calling you a DUMB ass.
So when I state that I am anti-stupid you can see just how busy I’ve really become. It’s an endless battle identifying and pointing out all of the stupid, dumb, and idiotic citizens roaming our streets right under our noses. Fortunately for all of you, I grudgingly volunteered years ago to lead the charge against DUMB and STUPID.
I’ve been trying to write a memorial for Amy for some time now. To say I miss her would be an understatement. What I miss more would be all the music she would have written and performed if she would have lived. She was a powerful voice for her music and her generation. The photographs here are how I wish to remember her. Not the photo’s of a dying drug addict. I think she was young and naïve and running with a questionable crowd of so-called musicians and hangers-on. She had no self-control and hurried towards her death with open arms. I loved her voice and her songs and I hate her for robbing me of what could have been many years of listening to her sing to me. I carry her music with me always. She’s the first thing I see each morning when I turn on my phone and computer. I talk with her every day. Sounds really stupid I know, but I loved the girl pictured here.
I’m sitting here in my man-cave reading a novel that is quite romantic. I’m not a usual reader of romance novels but there’s a reason I’m reading this one. For the last nine days in a row my better-half has requested my presence to watch Rom-Coms after dinner. I have to admit that I enjoy some of them but the great majority are kind of trashy and stupid. She insists that these movies are the epitome of romance, I couldn’t disagree more. Over the years I’ve been called many things, some good and some not so good by a variety of ladies. I can honestly say I have never been called romantic and again I disagree with them as well. In my opinion women should not be the final word on whether a man is romantic or not. On one or two occasions I’ve actually had women call me out in front of others for being unromantic, and for the last time I again absolutely disagree.
I recall an old movie that I thoroughly enjoyed watching starring Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah called Roxanne. It was a mushy silly takeoff on some Shakespearean story and at one point in the story Steve Martin serenaded Daryl Hannah at her bedroom window. If that’s a requirement for being identified as romantic, forget about it. I may be a lot of things but a singer I’m not. If I attempted to serenade a woman two things would immediately occur. First, she would cover her ears and slam the window shut. Secondly, the police would arrest me for “disturbing the peace” and “being a public nuisance”. So scratch serenading off my list of romantic things I could do.
I love reading but reading Shakespeare and stuffy poetry aloud to a woman I’ve just become interested in isn’t going to happen either. I’m more likely to recite some of my own poetry which is usually funny and a little off-color. You know what I mean, “There once was a man from Nantucket . . .”. Strike two for me. Maybe my critics were right after all. Allow me to continue my thought processes before you make your final decision.
I’ve been known to create a CD or two filled with romantic Lionel Richie love songs which I must say works like a charm. I’ve also been known to send flowers on occasion but unfortunately only to my mother on Mother’s Day.
Quite a few times in the past I’ve given IOU’s to various women for foot rubs. I’ve been complimented numerous times about my delicate and sensitive touch but I’ve never fully explained to most of them about my harmless but fun foot fetish. That’s my little secret.
Body massages are always a great approach for intimacy with many wonderful advantages available if done properly. Just so you know, I can massage with the best of them. So give me some points for that.
Taking a woman to dinner can be a pleasurable experience as well. It’s also a pretty good way to guilt them into sex. Spend $20 for the meal and you’ll likely get a long leisurely French kiss at the door. Spend $50 and you get an invitation to come in and play “slap and tickle” on the couch for a while. Spend over $100 for the meal and purchase an expensive bottle of wine and you’ll be swept into the “Promised Land” on the ‘Wings of Angels”. Been there and done that too.
Take them to a movie after that good meal and make sure it’s a tear-jerking “chick flick” and your golden. Dropping a few tears during the love scenes is perfect. Pretend to wipe the tears from your cheek so she can’t see you doing it, but make sure she does. A good meal, a bottle of good wine, a mushy movie, and a tear or two, and she’s yours for the asking. Now, if that’s not romance I don’t know what is.
So what have we learned about me. I like good food and good wine – Check! I like movies – Check! I like to spend time with women – Check! I write off-color and funny poetry – Check! I like massaging the naked bodies and feet of women – Check! I can drop a tear or two if necessary – Check! I like sex – Check! I can sleep over or go home immediately after sex – Your choice!
everyuselessthing.com 