I live in the land of Elvis, his ghost is inescapable down here, everywhere I turn it's Elvis this and Elvis that.
Yeah, I get it, Elvis came from this neck of the woods. Get over it already.
One thing that has always puzzled me is the lyrics to Jailhouse Rock. Has there ever been a more homo-erotic song written? I truly wonder if Elvis even realized what he was singing when he mouthed the words "If you can't find a partner use a wooden chair"
Was he advocating sticking a chair leg up your own ass for some sort of thrill? Seriously, "If you can't find a partner use a wooden chair." Uh, no thank you Elvis.
And the biggest what the fuck:
"Number forty-seven said to number three:
"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see.
I sure would be delighted with your company,
come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me."
That just screams prison rape. Apparently number 47 was noticing that number 3 had a cute little mouth and was intending to do something about it. Like shove his dick in it. That's just fucking disgusting. Is "Jailhouse Rock" some sort of fucked up euphemism for gay sex?
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Song Writing
I've played guitar and written songs since I was little.
It always amazes me the poetic license I can take when writing lyrics. I can write the stupidest thing and somehow it seems to fit the song in some odd way.
I think I outdid myself today with the line "I saw a baby dancing in the rain."
Think about that for a moment and get a good visual in your head of a baby dancing in the rain. Picture that stupid dancing baby that was an internet craze about 10 years ago standing on your porch gyrating. In the rain.
Yeah. It's pretty fucked up isn't it? I'd be running for a gun if something like that appeared on my doorstep. I wouldn't ask questions, I'd just shoot the goddamn thing.
BOOM!
Dancing baby blood, guts, and internal organs all over the yard.
And no one would blame me.
Which brings me back to the line in my song. The whole dancing baby thing has created a horrible visual in my head. I think I'll change the line to "I saw you and that baby so I shot both of you. In the rain."
That's Shakespearean shit right there. It's got all the elements for a classic...drama (Someone standing on my doorstep), comedy (Blowing the shit out of some homeless waif standing on my doorstep claiming the baby is mine. Ok, maybe that's only funny to me), tragedy...err I don't actually see any tragedy here. A dead baby and some woman that I may or may not of had relationships with earlier are splattered all over the front porch.
Nope, no tragedy here at all.
S'cuse me while I get the Lysol and a garden hose.
It always amazes me the poetic license I can take when writing lyrics. I can write the stupidest thing and somehow it seems to fit the song in some odd way.
I think I outdid myself today with the line "I saw a baby dancing in the rain."
Think about that for a moment and get a good visual in your head of a baby dancing in the rain. Picture that stupid dancing baby that was an internet craze about 10 years ago standing on your porch gyrating. In the rain.
Yeah. It's pretty fucked up isn't it? I'd be running for a gun if something like that appeared on my doorstep. I wouldn't ask questions, I'd just shoot the goddamn thing.
BOOM!
Dancing baby blood, guts, and internal organs all over the yard.
And no one would blame me.
Which brings me back to the line in my song. The whole dancing baby thing has created a horrible visual in my head. I think I'll change the line to "I saw you and that baby so I shot both of you. In the rain."
That's Shakespearean shit right there. It's got all the elements for a classic...drama (Someone standing on my doorstep), comedy (Blowing the shit out of some homeless waif standing on my doorstep claiming the baby is mine. Ok, maybe that's only funny to me), tragedy...err I don't actually see any tragedy here. A dead baby and some woman that I may or may not of had relationships with earlier are splattered all over the front porch.
Nope, no tragedy here at all.
S'cuse me while I get the Lysol and a garden hose.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Tickle the Pickle
When I was 19 or 20 a buddy and I went on a road trip to Las Vegas from Idaho and then back again.
For the most part the trip was uneventful. On the way home we drove straight up US 95 and it being Memorial Day weekend we found ourselves in the middle of some small town parade. I figured "What the hell?" and rolled down my window and waved at the crowd. I may or may not have been blowing kisses, but that's really neither here nor there. We were in a cool car (My buddy's '65 Corvette, although it was hardly a classic car back then)...I managed to embarrass the hell out of him, but to be honest he was easy to embarrass. He threatened to beat my ass and leave me on the side of the road. Jeez, was he touchy about things.
Somewhere along the line we stopped at a rest stop and some unwashed degenerate walked up to my window and asked me "Have you ever heard of Tickle the Pickle?"
Now I don't know about you, but as a young man those were fighting words coming from another guy...especially when uttered at an Interstate rest area. I thought it was some kind of gay come on and I wasn't having part of it. I threatened to ram a shovel up the guy's ass.
He was like "Whoa dude...no! It's a children's book I wrote. See? My van's over there." I looked over and there in all it's glory was an old rusted out Ford Econoline van spray painted with "Tickle the Pickle." Typical child molester shit.
I finally let my guard down a bit and he spied a Perrier water bottle we had in the car. That thing had been sitting on the transmission hump of a '65 Corvette for at least 500 miles driving through the desert, but he apparently was really, really thirsty.
He offered me a deal: "I'll give you a copy of Tickle the Pickle for that bottle of Perrier."
I thought about it a moment and agreed...as long as he drank the thing in front of me. He gave me a book, I gave him the water and he drank it. There were water fountains there he could've drank from, but for some reason he really wanted that bottle of 120 degree water. He downed it in one big gulp like he was suckling from God's teet. I damn near gagged. It was 100 degrees outside and that bottle was hotter then the ambient air....it had to taste like carbonated damn near boiling water. Whatever, he seemed to enjoy it.
Freak.
When we left the rest area I read through his book. That dude was a fucked up unit. The book was about a pickle that ground up watermelon seeds to become invisible and fuck with hunters.
Seriously. Google it.
I should've just shot him and claimed I was afraid for the virginity of my anus. No one would've blamed me.
EDIT: Crap. I just googled it and all I come up with are the twisted things that originally went through my mind when he said "Tickle the pickle" to me. I swear to God I found copies of that damn book a couple of months ago.
EDIT X2: Here's a copy of the book: http://cgi.ebay.com.my/TICKLE-the-PICKLE-by-Arnold-Wolman_W0QQitemZ360222442137QQcmdZViewItemQQptZUS_Childrens_Books?hash=item53deee4299
It gives the publication date as 1973, but I came across this dude on the road in 1983 or so. It also comes as no surprise that his other books are "Tickle the Pickle meets God", "Tickle the Pickle meets Marsha the Mushroom", and "Pleasing mixture of mushrooms and poetry." I couldn't make this shit up.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Books/s?ie=UTF8&rh=n%3A266239%2Cp_27%3AArnold%20Wolman&field-author=Arnold%20Wolman&page=1
I really should've just shot that tree hugging hippie.
For the most part the trip was uneventful. On the way home we drove straight up US 95 and it being Memorial Day weekend we found ourselves in the middle of some small town parade. I figured "What the hell?" and rolled down my window and waved at the crowd. I may or may not have been blowing kisses, but that's really neither here nor there. We were in a cool car (My buddy's '65 Corvette, although it was hardly a classic car back then)...I managed to embarrass the hell out of him, but to be honest he was easy to embarrass. He threatened to beat my ass and leave me on the side of the road. Jeez, was he touchy about things.
Somewhere along the line we stopped at a rest stop and some unwashed degenerate walked up to my window and asked me "Have you ever heard of Tickle the Pickle?"
Now I don't know about you, but as a young man those were fighting words coming from another guy...especially when uttered at an Interstate rest area. I thought it was some kind of gay come on and I wasn't having part of it. I threatened to ram a shovel up the guy's ass.
He was like "Whoa dude...no! It's a children's book I wrote. See? My van's over there." I looked over and there in all it's glory was an old rusted out Ford Econoline van spray painted with "Tickle the Pickle." Typical child molester shit.
I finally let my guard down a bit and he spied a Perrier water bottle we had in the car. That thing had been sitting on the transmission hump of a '65 Corvette for at least 500 miles driving through the desert, but he apparently was really, really thirsty.
He offered me a deal: "I'll give you a copy of Tickle the Pickle for that bottle of Perrier."
I thought about it a moment and agreed...as long as he drank the thing in front of me. He gave me a book, I gave him the water and he drank it. There were water fountains there he could've drank from, but for some reason he really wanted that bottle of 120 degree water. He downed it in one big gulp like he was suckling from God's teet. I damn near gagged. It was 100 degrees outside and that bottle was hotter then the ambient air....it had to taste like carbonated damn near boiling water. Whatever, he seemed to enjoy it.
Freak.
When we left the rest area I read through his book. That dude was a fucked up unit. The book was about a pickle that ground up watermelon seeds to become invisible and fuck with hunters.
Seriously. Google it.
I should've just shot him and claimed I was afraid for the virginity of my anus. No one would've blamed me.
EDIT: Crap. I just googled it and all I come up with are the twisted things that originally went through my mind when he said "Tickle the pickle" to me. I swear to God I found copies of that damn book a couple of months ago.
EDIT X2: Here's a copy of the book: http://cgi.ebay.com.my/TICKLE-the-PICKLE-by-Arnold-Wolman_W0QQitemZ360222442137QQcmdZViewItemQQptZUS_Childrens_Books?hash=item53deee4299
It gives the publication date as 1973, but I came across this dude on the road in 1983 or so. It also comes as no surprise that his other books are "Tickle the Pickle meets God", "Tickle the Pickle meets Marsha the Mushroom", and "Pleasing mixture of mushrooms and poetry." I couldn't make this shit up.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Books/s?ie=UTF8&rh=n%3A266239%2Cp_27%3AArnold%20Wolman&field-author=Arnold%20Wolman&page=1
I really should've just shot that tree hugging hippie.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)