Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Those Are Not Proper Gym Shoes, Mr. Weir

“Okay, you’re gonna do the Pum-ba-dee-da part, and I’ll sing the words.”

“We’re not doing Happy Trails, Bobby. There’s no Pum-ba-dee-da part.”

“Ah. What about Ah-weem-ah-way?”

“Not singing that one, either.”

“What are we singing?”

“National Anthem.”

“Which nation?”

“America.”

“Happy Trails is an incredibly American song.”

“Bob.”

“So is Lion Sleeps Tonight, now that I think about it: black guys wrote it, and white guys stole all the royalties. Nothing more American than that.”

“Bob.”

“How about we do El Paso?”

“Gotta sing the National Anthem, man.”

“Whatever happened to freedom of speech?”

“We’re not speaking. We’re singing.”

“You make a good point.”

1 Comment

  1. That Guy

    I spent a summer working as a private chef for George David Weiss. He gave my daughter an autographed copy of the sheet music to “What A Wonderful World”.
    Not a mean bone in that man’s body.
    I believe he settled accordingly.

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