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"Although technically, the sun is still shining, when she has departed,
My metaphorical perception, is synonomous with a paucity of illumination".
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Already baked, at least in the nursery rhyme genre: |
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Three rodents with permanently impaired vision
Three rodents with permanently impaired vision
Observe how they flee
Observe how they flee
They all pursued the agriculturist's spouse
She cut off their posterior appendages with a carving
implement
You never saw such a spectacle in your entire existence
As three rodents with permanently impaired vision |
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"Male sibling, do you possess sufficient funds to donate to me 10 cents in legal tender?" |
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"Unfortunately, I have been diagnosed with clinical depression, therefore my physician has prescribed Prozac. But my health maintenace organization will only pay for the generic variety." |
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There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about a (fictional) singer who sang covers of famous songs in a laboriously meticulous way, ie rather than singing "I did it my way", he sang "I performed it in a manner that is particular to myself". It was very funny but I can't remember what it was called, Dammit. Anyone remember? |
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Haven't heard of it, but it reminds me of Peter Sellers reciting 'Hard Day's Night' in the style of Olivier, which is a classic. |
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For some reason, this all reminds me of the first song 'parody' I did with my then-girlfriend. When she sang a bit from //Annie get your gun//: |
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I'm quick on the trigger with targets not much bigger than a pinpoint. I'm number one.
But my score with a fella is lower than a cellar 'cos you can't get a man with a gun. |
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I thought a few seconds and made what I thought was a rather clever rewrite on the second bit: |
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But my score with the ladies is further down than Hades, 'cos you can't win a gal with a gun. |
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Don't know that's relevant to anything, but I just thought of it. |
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Per PeterSealy's Blues for Happy People suggestion...Blues for WASPs. |
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Yeah, but he got soul, baby. |
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Anybody remember Loenard Cohens, "The Butcher"? Great synthesis of the inimitable Cohen lyrical style, not neccessarily grammatically correct, but neither gratuituously mumbled (every bit as archaic by now, although still fresh sounding), with the blues form. Hair raising (He's Canadian). |
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Well now ya have - see link. L. Cohen is probobly the most famous "underground" musician of the Twentieth century, even Iggy Pop and Lou Reed get more airplay - and I thought everybody from NY was hip. Samples available on Napster, though I think this is his only blues song. |
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Personally, I'd rather see a shift
away from the Gratuitiously
Obscene Rapper/Rocker, instead. |
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This reminds me of something that happened back in college. There were movies shown in the student center by the campus programming board, and fliers advertising the films were all over campus. Someone on the board apparently thought a very famous movie ad copy line was too gauche, so the genius decided to grammatically correct it. So there were fliers all over the place that said: "Who are you going to call? Ghostbusters!" |
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Grammatically correct gangsta rap would be fun, too. I guess most of the words would just get erased, though. |
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Anyone know what "jigga" is in an upper-class Oxbridge accent? |
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Motherf****r: Madam-fornicator |
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Bitches 'n' Hos: Female Canines 'n' Garden Tools |
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Not a blues song, but amusing nevertheless. Try to imagine Paul Robeson singing "Ol' Man River" in grammatically correct, no-slang English: |
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"Old Man River, that Old Man River,
He must know something, but he doesn't say anything.
He just keeps rolling; he keeps on rolling along. |
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He doesn't plant potatoes, he doesn't plant cotton,
And those who plant them are soon forgotten,
But Old Man River just keeps rolling along. |
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You and I, perspiring and exerting ourselves,
With bodies aching and racked with pain.
"Carry that pallet!" "Raise that crate!"
Get slightly intoxicated, arrested, and taken to the police station for booking. |
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I get weary and sick of trying;
I'm tired of living and afraid of dying,
But Old Man River just keeps rolling along. . . . |
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This was a clever camp song....when we were all of fifteen... |
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"Indicate the way to my habitual abode, I'm fatigued and I wish to retire / I partook of an alcoholic beverage about 60 minutes ago and it went right to my cer-e-bell-um.... / No matter where I perambulate / Over land or sea or atmospheric mist / You can perpetually hear me singing this tune... / Indicate the way to my habitual aboooddddde" |
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...who knew we were so cool.... |
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Q: "Dude, what's up?"
A: "Anything with a higher gravitational potential energy in ratio to its mass than you." |
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Q: "How's it hangin'? Dude!"
A: "Under the influence of gravity." |
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It reminds me of a similar comment made years ago on "Prarie Home Companion." Something about how if lawyers had been involved, "It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing" would have been renamed "Swingless things are valueless." |
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