Saturday, January 12, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Oh, What the Fu...?
Peter Parker, The Sensational Spider-Man, #41:
"Yeah, well, if I wake up as J.R. Ewing in the shower--or Gregor Samsa waking up as a cockroach--I'm going to be really ticked"
Couldn't have said it better myself.
"Yeah, well, if I wake up as J.R. Ewing in the shower--or Gregor Samsa waking up as a cockroach--I'm going to be really ticked"
Couldn't have said it better myself.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Jonathan Richman Gives Us Words To Live By
This morning, whilst enjoying the invigorating sensation one experiences during a strong constitutional, and marveling at my own, not insignificant, cleverness at donning a rakish pair of plus-fours (if it is good enough for the Duke of Windsor, it is good enough for me), I was struck by some delightful music emanating from my Colibri portable gramophone. Of said machine I will say, to the surprise of no person, and to the great delight of myself and of my faithful canine, that it has been our steady companion during our daily perambulations.
So, on this Most Glorious of mornings, I had chosen a music cylinder recommended to me by none other than Chad Worthington Erasmus Anderson. It would seem that along with his ribald sense of humour, and a talent for the Lindy Hop that borders on native, Mr. Anderson is quite the student of music from the former colonies to the south. But I digress.
As we strode along, enjoying the salubrious humidity, both man and dog content with their rightful positions on God's Firmament, some wondrous words came wafting out of my blessed Colibri. I do an injustice here as these were no mere words, such as those found scribbled on a greasy napkin in a tawdry Common House of the kind fre-quented by the miserly and miserable immigrants of Tin Pan Alley. No gentle soul, these were not words, but Aural Phantasms, as real and as Divine as if trumpeted by the Archangel Gabriel himself. This Messenger of the Divine, a Jonathan Richman, had inscribed on my cylinder a song entitled "Rock in a Retail Sales Centre" (though I dare say this incorrigible troubadour would undoubtedly miss-spell centre). In the aforementioned song, Mr. Richman intones:
"De-doily doidy doit doit doit doit diddle"
Yes dear reader, "De-doily doidy doit doit doit doit diddle".
Needless to say this revelation caused me to near float to my employer's as if carried by Pan and attended to by a retinue of cherubim and seraphim. My Sanguine humours are still in an invigorated state and I sense a distinct diminution of the black bile which has plagued me these past two years.
And this incalculable boon I now pass on to you.
So, on this Most Glorious of mornings, I had chosen a music cylinder recommended to me by none other than Chad Worthington Erasmus Anderson. It would seem that along with his ribald sense of humour, and a talent for the Lindy Hop that borders on native, Mr. Anderson is quite the student of music from the former colonies to the south. But I digress.
As we strode along, enjoying the salubrious humidity, both man and dog content with their rightful positions on God's Firmament, some wondrous words came wafting out of my blessed Colibri. I do an injustice here as these were no mere words, such as those found scribbled on a greasy napkin in a tawdry Common House of the kind fre-quented by the miserly and miserable immigrants of Tin Pan Alley. No gentle soul, these were not words, but Aural Phantasms, as real and as Divine as if trumpeted by the Archangel Gabriel himself. This Messenger of the Divine, a Jonathan Richman, had inscribed on my cylinder a song entitled "Rock in a Retail Sales Centre" (though I dare say this incorrigible troubadour would undoubtedly miss-spell centre). In the aforementioned song, Mr. Richman intones:
"De-doily doidy doit doit doit doit diddle"
Yes dear reader, "De-doily doidy doit doit doit doit diddle".
Needless to say this revelation caused me to near float to my employer's as if carried by Pan and attended to by a retinue of cherubim and seraphim. My Sanguine humours are still in an invigorated state and I sense a distinct diminution of the black bile which has plagued me these past two years.
And this incalculable boon I now pass on to you.
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