A protagonist: The turkey. “Gobble Gobble.”
A story: They’re out to kill him.
And it’s a musical. With a song from the movie “Grease.”
Today’s reblog is courtesy of Sid @SidMILB from the My Mother In Law is Still Sitting Between Us… blog. Check out her blog for what could be, quite possibly, the best Thanksgiving song lyrics ever written. It is called Gobble Gobble.
Speaking of the movie Grease… (This is where I put my special twist on the reblog.)
I was out of town with my church group to spend the weekend at a Shakespearean festival. I was 13 or 14 years old. My parents had given me some spending money that was supposed to last for the whole trip.
We brought our sleeping bags and camped in the town’s Episcopal church. In that church was a simple record player. The kind with a swinging arm and a needle and a built-in crappy speaker.
While out exploring town one day with a friend, I came across it totally by chance. The 2-disc Original Motion Picture Soundtrack for the movie Grease. The price was exactly the amount of money I had in my pocket.
You know what happened next. I bought that sucker, took it back to the church, and listened to it all weekend long. I didn’t know it at the time but I was already well-advanced on the path to supergeek.
Thanks for the trip down memory lane, Sid!
Someone asked me what I was thinking and this post represents what happened next…
So yeah, never ask me what I’m thinking.
This is a two-part post. The musical interlude above was part one. Part two is more ribald. It contains frank discussions of sexuality and may be too intense for some readers.
WARNING – I’m not kidding. Do not make the jump if you can’t handle a little adult stuff and humor. Did I mention I’m not kidding? Just cut your losses and move on. Nothing to see here.
You have been warned. (I’m not kidding.)
Continue reading →
Obviously this piece was intended and destined to be a hardrock/pop song. It would be recorded in the style of Disturbed or perhaps Dope. At least that’s how I always envisioned it.
Of course this piece has nothing to do with me. That’s my special gift as a songwriter. Somehow I have the ability to empathetically inhabit the characters and situations that I create.
I sincerely hope you will enjoy this lyrical diversion.
I’m sure it’ll be a big, big hit.
by Tom B. Taker
you made the money
i screwed around
you paid the bills
i slowed you down
you did the work
i wasted time
you bossed me
i lost my mind
i am what you made me
you were responsible
i was a flake
you made decisions
i made mistakes
you were right
i was wrong
you held the cards
i didn’t belong
look where you led me
[angry metal guitar bridge]
see ya around, “mom”
B is for Blog. That’s what Big Bird over at Sesame Street told me. (That’s the PBS solution to programming for children.) Barney the Friendly Dinosaur told me that B is for Best Buy. (That’s the for-profit free market solution to programming for children.) Boldly brainwash our babies the benefit of business. Bravo!
Behold any bent in this blog broadcast yet?
But “B is for Blog” is the easy way out. I’ll bet there are billions of “B is for Blog” posts today for the “A-Z Blogging Challenge.”
Not me, baby. I’m boldly and bravely being bodacious.
Bah! That’s enough balderdash with the bold.
Do I take things too far? I sure hope not. I don’t mean to babble. Enough with the befuddling bafflegab!
Ever been to Disneyland? Near the entrance to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride is a restaurant known as the Blue Bayou. Here diners can eat inside a building in a simulated outdoor restaurant next to a simulated Louisiana bayou.
This effect is achieved through the use of a dark and distant ceiling, air conditioning, and carefully coordinated lighting. The theming is intensified by the sounds of crickets and frogs, the meandering glow of fireflies, and projection effects above that imitate the night sky. (Wikipedia.)
Diners can watch park patrons depart and return from the exciting theme ride while they nosh on authentic Cajun cuisine like head cheese, ham hocks, alligator, frogs legs and nutria. (I’ve never eaten there but I’ve floated by a few times, so these menu choices are merely assumptions on my part.)
Who doesn’t feel all goofy at the sight of a glowing child engaging in the time-honored practice of blowing bubbles? Me, actually. I hate the bloody activity. (Another “B” word bonus.)
Crayola “after years of research” has finally achieved bubbles in color. Ooooh. Unciting. Apparently, before now, they were always black and white, although they appeared fairly colorful to me.
Reportedly it took Crayola almost two decades to develop the winning formula. Can you sense the palpable desperation here? “We have got to break out of the edible color wax genre, people! Dammit, we need new revenue streams!”
Lauded as the “holy grail” of bubbles, Crayola brand “Washable Colored Bubbles” allow mischievous youngsters who are easily amused to “create bubbles in bright, bold vibrant colors!” (So says the official Crayola website.)
Choose your colorful poison: Purple Pizzazz, Sunset Orange, Screamin’ Green, Wild Blue Yonder, or Pink Flamingo.
I always wondered if I had the “right stuff.” Now, for only $3.99 for a 4 oz. bottle, I can slip the surly bonds of Earth and touch the Wild Blue Yonder. Yeah! (That’s only $127.68 per gallon.)
Alas, there’s a downside. It’s that always the way?!?!?
A story in on the front page of the Wall Street Journal this week breaks down the bad news. Even though Crayola prominently features the word “washable” on the bottle and in the product’s name, it seems there is a bit of a sticky wicket.
The product has spawned a bit of a backlash from angry parents who are quibbling over the definition of “washable.” Critics allege that the product can leave behind a colorful “permanent” mess. One woman blogged about it, calling it “the worst product I ever bought.” Another said the Wild Blue Yonder turned her children into “smurfs.”
The blogger added, “Washable?…It practically requires scrubbing the top layer of your skin off to get the color out.”
Damn, I take it all back. This sounds like my kind of product after all. Crayola just tricked parents into making kids graffiti artists in their own home. Bravissimo!
Crayola was clearly sensitive and understanding of the threat to their coffers:
Crayola, which is owned by Hallmark Cards Inc., of Kansas City, Mo., says that the product should wash off when used properly.
But consumers ought not to expect the new product “to perform like regular soapy bubbles,” says Leena Vadaketh, Crayola’s head of research and development.
Allow me to parse this. In other words, “It’s not our problem. You’re doing it wrong.”
Crayola is a trusted brand. I know that when I think of freaky chemicalized shit, I think, “Crayola!” Now I see why!
Scouring the Crayola official website, I learned the following verbatim factoids. Enjoy!
- Crayola Dough contains wheat and therefore is not Gluten Free.
- It is possible that latex gloves may have been worn during the manufacture and distribution of raw materials, components or finished goods.
Additionally, when attempting to glean what compounds are in their products, I found a statement on Crayola’s website that they won’t list ingredients due to “proprietary” concerns. They will, however, list some of the things not found in their products. Things like “peanuts & legumes.” I have to admit, this gets me a bit confused. We’re not talking about a food company, right? I mean, where do they list the calories in their products?
I salute Crayola for the beautiful bubble bobble!
A poem in tribute of the A-Z Blogging Challenge
by Tom B. Taker
Bone chilling democratic
Freely gone hyper intergalactic
Kept languishing madly
Overtly playing quintessentially
This is my “B” post for the April 2011 “A to Z Blogging Challenge.”
For the brave-hearted few who read the bottom, here’s a bonus video:
Recently I spent some time pondering the idea that we might choose our own parents.
That led me to consider the concept of reincarnation.
The exploration of which led me to a surprising destination which, I had to laugh, because it didn’t surprise me too much. Let’s just say that my curiosity led me full circle to a satisfying conclusion. If you ponder very carefully, you might even find a humble connection back to this very blog. Prepare to open your mind to great mysteries and wonder!
So, for advanced Abyss studies, I will link you to a bit of cowboy poetry. (I’m not republishing the content here on my blog out of respect for the author’s copyright.) I urge you to read the entire poem (it’s not that long) and then consider what you have learned about reincarnation and my blog.
by Wallace McRae
What goes around comes around. Enjoy, pardner!
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and lay in bed and linger and just let whatever thoughts that might be drifting by land in my ol’ empty head. This morning the following bit of lyrical poetry is what materialized out of the freakin’ blue.
No, I’m not kidding.
Do not ask me why. Also, don’t ask me why I feel like sharing it, either. Did I ever mention I like to be pathetic?
Here at the Abyss I like to bring as much variety to you as I possibly can. Something tells me posts like this one meet that humble goal only too well…
Leave this blog. Now. I urge you. Beyond here, there be dragons!
Sperm Donor, Sperm Donor,
Make me a batch,
Grind me a grind
Scratch me a batch
Sperm Donor, Sperm Donor
Read a porn book,
And make me a perfect batch
Sperm Donor, Sperm Donor
Fill up that pail
I’ll bring my womb
Try not to fail
Bring me a batch – it’s not wrong you’ll agree
To make a test tube baby
Sperm Donor, Sperm Donor,
Make me a batch,
Grind me a grind,
Scratch me a batch,
Night after night in the dark I’m alone
So help me to hatch,
On my own
As you can tell by the recent spate of Christmas-themed posts, the holiday season has sparked remarkable excitement here in the Abyss. Just like it does every year. God bless us, every one!
To press on with the celebrations in the spirit of Fesitvus, here are some snippets of Christmas poetry I’ve been doodling with. I offer them up as little bite-sized mcnuggets for your enjoyment, garishly incomplete, and still needing much loving care and attention. That’s where you come in. The challenge of this post, if you dare accept, is to rewrite or expand these poems as you see fit. Can you make them better? Perhaps to the point of being readable? The fate of these poems rests in your hands!
Without further ado, I present my offerings to cultural library surrounding my most favorite time of year. Enjoy!
Santa, ho! Santa, ho!
I’m waiting by my window on Christmas Eve
If I see the man then I might believe
I’m not buying a full grown sprite
I’ll sit right here if it takes all night
Santa, ho! Santa, ho!
Santa Santa, ho ho ho!
Keep away from me with your mistletoe
Santa, ho! Santa, ho!
Reindeer Can’t Fly
Reindeer can’t fly
Santa Claus is a lie
Do you take me for an ass?
Let’s keep it real
No need to conceal
It’s all so commercial and crass
Robert the American Reindeer
Robert the American reindeer
Had an awful lot of class
And if you ever said different
You’d get a hoof in your ass
All of the other reindeer
Were obviously socialist pigs
Robert would only quaff beer
While the others ate their figs
Sure he watched a lot of TV
He was the fattest of them all
But once a year on Christmas Eve
His Hummer3 delivered Santa’s haul
The Penultimate Christmas Song
Chillin’ with some eggnog
By the halls I had decked
When I heard such a clatter
I cried out, “what the heck?”
With a jingle entered Holly
I exclaimed “oh my balls”
She was simply returning
From four shopping malls!!
Massive bags of gifts
She dropped by our sleigh
Stuffed up like turkeys
A true consumer’s holiday
Then I spied it there
So gleaming and white
The miracle of iPad
Praise God, oh holy night!
We took a moment to pray
We were feeling so fine-a
Our hearts all aglow
By this thing made in China
We got it out of the box
With our wifi it meshed
To love baby Jesus
Download an app called iCreche
I spread comfort on my twitter
And her joy on networking sites
Just two merry fools
Making the season bright
Our work finally finished
We donned apparel so gay
Got under the mistletoe
Until next year on Black Friday!
As you all know, the “War on Christmas” is in full swing this year, just as it is every year. Christmas has been attacked and Christmas will be defended. Dead or alive. Erm, wait. Something like that. It’s amazing how quickly the words of former presidents can fade from our minds, isn’t it? But I digress.
Anywho, as you all know, we are prohibited by good form from using the phrase “Merry Christmas.” This year, because the terrorists are winning, we are further prohibited from even from saying, simply, “Happy Holidays.” Dammit, we can’t even wish you “Seasons Greetings.”
Wow. Times sure are tough. So, we’ll just have to come up with some other way to let you know how we feel. I sure hope this works!
Merry Abyssmas to all, and to all a good night!
See: Christmas Dice