Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Fillmore South will be covering the Midterms, just in case you can’t take the blow-dried assholes on teevee. (Also: that’s UNIVAC that Walter Cronkite is standing next to. UNIVAC, man!)
BUUUUUUT if you can’t handle any of it, try this:
Three-hour BBC documentary about Live Aid!
Young and strong.
Paul Westerberg doesn’t care who gets elected, but Paul Westerberg is a legendary asshole. Don’t be like Paul Westerberg. Still time to exercise your franchise.
Vote like your life depended on it. It very well may.
Twas the night before Midterms
And all through the town
Not a citizen smiled
Everyone wore a frown
The flyers and pamphlets
Had been sent by mail
And robocalls flurried
As if they were hail
The bunting and banners
Were red, white, and blue
But it seems this year
The S of A wasn’t so U.
The houses were full
With fights and with bickers
And everyone eyed
E’ryone else’s bumper stickers
When out in the street
There arose a great clamor
That men shut their yaps
Ladies ceased with their yammer
It was him, it was Santa!
There could be no one finer!
Everyone’s favorite saint
From 8th century Asia Minor!
A crowd gathered round
And grew into a group
Santa just smiled
And Prancer made poop
A very tall man
With only one ear
Said “It’s November, Claus,
Why you are here?”
And then Santa laughed
His traditional HO
And his belly did jiggle
And his eyes did a-glow
“Even up in the North Pole
I can’t help but hear it
You all are in need
Of some Christmas-time spirit.
“Some good will towards men
And some alms for the poor
And a hearty reminder
Of what life is for!”
The crowd heard his words
And they processed their meaning
And then, all at once,
Everyone started screaming.
“What kind of name’s ‘Santa?’
Are you here legally?”
Yelled a man in a red hat
Who looked kinda weaselly.
“These reindeer, Santa,
Were they bred or rescues?”
“Santa, I have some concerning
Facts about Jews.”
The crowd got excited
Like a riot begun
And then a white lady
She called 911.
So the police arrived
To protect and serve cit’zens
And one cop shot Donner
And another shot Blitzen
“Fuck this,” said Kris Kringle
And he spurred on his ‘deer
“To the North Pole or Poland
Anywhere but right here!”
And his voice carried out
As he sped away home
“Maybe Jesus’ll help you;
You’re on your own.”
You can vote while you’re fucked up. That’s in the Constitution.
Hey, Grateful Dead archivist David Lemieux. You’re blurry.
“It’s just the photo.”
You sure?
“Positive.”
If that guy offers you a drink, don’t take it.
“Crosby. With an R. Not Cosby.”
Ah. Steal his hat.
“I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
Steal it.
“I’m not going to.”
STEAL DAVID CROSBY’S MUSHMOUTH HAT!
“Can we stop speaking? Is there any way to opt out of being a character in this foolishness?”
I’ll tell you what: you can stop being on the site if you can produce a Jew.
“Produce a Jew?”
Make a Jew appear.
“Boom, eh?”
Wow.
“Canadians can conjure Jewish people at will.”
I did not know that. Hey, award-winning author Steve Silberman.
“Leave me out of your garbage, too.”
Everyone’s mean to me.
“Jenkins!”
“Sir.”
“What the hell is happening out there?”
“It’s raining men, sir.”
“Metaphorically?”
“No, sir. Literally. Human males are literally plummeting from the sky.”
“In a sexy way?”
“Oh, God, no. It’s like Dresden out there.”
“Well, what happened? When did it start?”
“Around half past ten.”
“Did we have any warning?”
“The humidity was rising.”
“Rising, sure.”
“And the barometer was getting low.”
“So low.”
“But neither of those metrics imply a sudden barrage of sky-fellows.”
“This hasn’t happened before?”
“No, sir. It’s the first time in history.”
“What kind of men is it raining, Jenkins?”
“Tall and blonde.”
“Mm.”
“Dark and lean.”
“Lean is better than fat here, Jenkins. Less of a plop.”
“And rough men, tough men, and short and mean men.”
“What I’m hearing is ‘men in general.'”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s good! Diversity!”
“It’s not, sir. I don’t think we’ll be able to count the dead.”
“Jenkins, why are we always in situations where the dead are uncountable?”
“Can’t help it if we’re lucky, sir.”
“Who is responsible for this?”
“The raining men?”
“Yes.”
“Mother Nature, I would suppose.”
“Ha! Problem solved, then. We just assassinate Mother Nature. Easy peasy.”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Oh, yes.”
“How, sir?”
“I don’t know. Concrete shoes? Cyanide? High voltage? It’s going to be a truly foul act, Jenkins.”
“A dirty deed?”
“Something like that. And we need to find someone who doesn’t charge a lot.”
“Dirt cheap?”
“If you say so.”
“I’ll make a call, sir.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijPzoacp0gA
Enthusiasts, my ignorance runs deep. Never before had I listened to Their Satanic Majesties Request; as a younger man, I recall seeing the album cover and thinking “That’s gonna suck.” It was the Stones’ answer to Sgt. Pepper and it was all swirly and gooey and, like, we really mixed it for the headphones, man. Or so goes its reputation. Big-time novelist and Times columnist Jennifer Finney Boylan advises that Fillmore South give the ’67 release a shot.
So this is her fault.
Sing This All Together
Citadel
In Another Land
2000 Man
Sing This All Together (See What Happens)
She’s A Rainbow
The Lantern
Gomper
2000 Light Years From Home
On With The Show
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