Lunch Blyte #3

OK ... prepare to sit a bit for this blyte. I was listening to the radio and heard a song from the eighties (my era) and it hit me how funny the lyrics were. The more I listened and thought about how this guy would be perceived in today's world, the more I laughed. See if you agree in this play-by-play reaction. And if you have an 80s song you'd like analyzed, post it in a comment and I'll give it some consideration.

Raspberry Beret
Prince & The Revolution, 1985

1 2, 1 2 3, huh
Yeah
Good show, man ... counting is a prime skill for the job market. Yeah.

I was workin' part-time in a 5-and-dime
Only being able to count to three may limit your career choices to small outlets and less than full-time status. Note the fact that you even had to start over counting at least once. Practice makes perfect.

My boss was Mr. McGee
Cousin to Mr. Magoo, a fine fellow ... can you see it?

He told me several times that he didn't like my kind
Cuz I was a bit 2 leisurely
Methinks it had someting to do with your spelling skills and gratuitous use of the number 2 incorrectly. As far as being leisurely goes ... this wasn't a cruise ship. It's a 5-and-dime. Sweep, man!

It seems that I was busy doin' somethin' close 2 nothin'
But different than the day before
While it appears you are making an effort to diversify your daily work schedule, a skoosh above "nothin'" is not a career builder.

That's when I saw her, ooh, I saw her
She walked in through the out door, out door.
OK ... Her entrance style should have been clue numero uno that this was not going to bode well for you, dude. Dyslexic or illiterate ... neither one will be a benefit in the long run.

CHORUS: She wore a raspberry beret
While the descriptive adjective sounds appealing and even tasty, colored berets should be reserved for the French or for military deployments.

The kind U'd find in a second hand store
Don't let your guard down. While she may appear to be Salvation Army today, it's Neiman Marcus tomorrow. What kind of contraction is U'd, dude? I have to award points for simplification ... you may have been a 15-year pre-cursor to texting.

Raspberry beret
And if it was warm, she wouldn't wear much more
Again ... she's playing the poor card on you man. Beneath that raggedy Daisy Duke exterior, the gold digger will run over your toes as she's heading to Phipps once she gets your 5-and-dime paycheck. Or perhaps that will be Wal-Mart. Either way ... she's going to rob you blind.

Raspberry beret
I think I love her
May I suggest the word "think" is your Achilles heel ... you better KNOW you love her before tripping over to The Shane Company.

Built like she was, huh, she had the nerve 2 ask me
If I planned 2 do her any harm, hmph
Hmph indeed. Let's make a self assessment here. Look at you. Dr. Ruth could take you out in one blow. So could your nameless beret girl. And my five-year-old.

So looka here, I put her on the back of my bike and ah...We went ridin'
down by Old Man Johnson's farm
Huffy or Schwinn ... we're not sure here. But it makes for a funny picture.

I said now overcast days never turned me on
But somethin' 'bout the clouds and her mixed
Somethin' ... 'bout ... Is it possible for you to begin to use full English words in the near term? You don't sound 2 bright.

She wasn't 2 bright,
Ah ... perhaps you are a match made in heaven. Course, we figured out her brightness level when she entered the store through the exit, remember?

but I could tell when she kissed me
She knew how 2 get her kicks
The only kick here should be 2 the curb ... either one of you.

CHORUS
The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof
And the horses wonder who U are
The horses are also wondering who's going to get stuck having to eat that bale of hay you're doing the deed on.

The thunder drowns out what the lightning sees, huh
Huh. The lightning would prefer to be blind.

And U feel like a movie star
Not likely in your future from the looks of the side you're showing in the barn. Whatever you do, never do a bathtub scene in an opening of any of your music videos. Whoops ... too late. When Doves Cry was in 1984. Not a good look. Flash forward ... Purple Rain did not a movie star make.

Listen, they say the first time ain't the greatest
Ah, the infamous "they." Just note ... some would debate this point with you.

But I tell ya, if I had the chance 2 do it all again
I wouldn't change a stroke cuz baby I'm the most
With a girl as fine as she was then
Questionable at best. Old Man Johnson called her a "cow" as he was running you out of his barn. Mistaken identity? Perhaps not.

Lord, ras...
OK ... first it's choppy words, now you're not even completing sentences. You may have to give up your name and become a symbol if you can't grasp the English language.

(CHORUS)
The kind U find, the kind U find, oh no no! Uh huh, uh huh
And who wrote this song for you anyway? Was it during a writer's strike? Repetition equals "running out of things to say." Get your money back.

Where have all the raspberry women gone?
Where have they gone? Into hiding ... in a commune of raspberry women ... out of embarassment for those silly berets.

Yeah I think I, I think I, I think I love her!
I think, I think, I think ... thinking doesn't appear to be your strong suit.

(CHORUS)
No, no, no No, no, no, I love... Tell me where have all the raspberry women gone? {fade out}
We covered this already. Sounds like you could use some listening skill training as well.

I think I love...
Oy vey.

Of Chickens and Roads

What do you do when you're brain dead but you want to blog? How about a little plagarism with a side order of sarcasm? I found this a while back and pulled it out of storage. If you've read them before, read them again. If they are new to you, enjoy the freshness.

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

GEORGE W BUSH -- We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road or not. The chicken is either against us or for us. There is no middle ground here.

BILL CLINTON -- I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

RUSH LIMBAUGH -- I don't know why the chicken crossed the road, but I'll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I'll bet that somebody out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars. And when I say tax dollars, I'm talking about your money, money the government took from you to build a road for chickens to cross.

MARTHA STEWART -- No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

JERRY FALWELL -- Because the chicken was gay---isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the 'other side'. That's what they call it … 'the other side.' Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too.

DR SEUSS -- Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

GRANDPA -- In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and we liked it.

BARBARA WALTERS -- Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its life long dream of crossing the road.

CAPTAIN KIRK -- To boldly go where no chicken has ever gone before.

SIGMUND FREUD -- The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES -- We're working on a rollout of Chicken2009, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook.

ALBERT EINSTEIN -- Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

THE BIBLE -- And God came down from heaven, and he said unto the chicken THOU SHALT CROSS THE ROAD. And the chicken didst cross the road, and there was much rejoicing.

THE LATE COLONEL SANDERS -- Did I miss one?

Red Dot Fever

It's an obsession now. I watch that little ClustrMap on the right for new red dots. How cool is that? Last week I identified a fan around Turkey. How appropriate. And now somebody is reading in Africa (or at least read once before screaming and running for the hills.)

And what looks to be Iowa ... maybe Ottumwa? (I always felt I would have been Radar on M*A*S*H if I had been in the service ... just not as mousey.)

And I see Tenessee and Toronto. It's like looking through the Romper Room special mirror ... I can see all of you special people!

And if you don't know what Romper Room is ... well, sorry. You missed out. Especially Romper Stompers. Talk about a chick magnet ... those things made you at least six inches taller. Who would have thought you could make money off of two little yellow plastic buckets turned over with rubber handles on them?

Sorry ... I'm having a flashback. Is that Snuffleupagus I hear? Or is it Rita Moreno shouting "Heyyyyyyy Yoooooouuuuuu Guuuuyyyyyssss!" as the director on The Electric Company? And you haven't lived until you've "Zoomah, zoomah, zoomah, zoomed!" with the cast of Zoom.

Where are they now??? Barney had them snuffed out.

Could you imagine Snuffy going up against Barney? Now I'll admit the purple dino has an edge since he stands on his hind legs all the time. But Snuffy could take him out with that trunk in one swift blow.

Not to mention ... Big Bird and Oscar could take on Baby Bop and B.J. any day. Throw in the Teletubbies, and you'd have one serious melee.

Colorful, but serious. I'd pay to see that one.

Lunch Blyte #2

I love Star Trek.

And yes, you do want to know why.

Have you seen the inside of the Enterprise? It doesn't really matter which version you are talking about ... the original, the next gen, or even the ones about space stations or other ships ... they all have one thing in common. It's orderly. Even the Klingons are orderly, albeit somewhat lacking a ship maid. And the Borg are Order Extraordinaire.

If you watch the shows ... you'll never see a pair of shoes sitting in the hallway going to the holodeck. Or toys scattered about the turbolift when you're heading to the bridge. Now mind you ... I'm not bashing being a parent of three. I'm just saying ...

Even in the crew quarters ... everything has a place and everything seems to be in it's place. It's much like when we go on a cruise. You don't have a huge stateroom, and what you do have is very efficient. Little storage nooks and crannies for your small amount of stuff.

I love cruises ... probably more than Star Trek. Yep, I'm certain I like them more. Now if there was a Star Trek cruise, where the ship was like the Enterprise and I had my own replicator ... THAT would be cool. No Earl Gray tea for me ... gimme a Coke float in a frosty mug to carry up to the holodeck, yes-sir-ee.

There's more that I like about Star Trek, but I'll hold it for future lunch blytes. Like the crash scene in Star Trek: Generations (the seventh movie, I believe). Talk about on the edge. I like The Matrix movies, too. Especially the motorcycle scene in the second one. But I digress ... this is becoming a bloated blyte.

And FYI ... I added ClustrMaps to my blog yesterday, and I have a reader somewhere on the western edge of the Black Sea. Perhaps Turkey or Bulgaria. I'm honored. And I hope I don't scare you away, little red dot.

Midnight Near the Beach of Gulf Shrimp and Something that Starts with E

OK ... I was trying to make a play on "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil," but the brain just quit in the middle there. Sorry.

It's the evening (now morning) of our first full day at the Moore's house, my wonderful in-laws. We try to visit them every now and then. It doesn't hurt that they are about 15 minutes from the beach, but it's the 7 hours it takes to get to them that makes it an uncommon visit.

The kids are in bed (Leah is reading a book behind me, because I'm using Dad Moore's DSL wire in the room where she's on the pullout sofa ... I'm sure she wants me to go to bed.) The house is quiet. THIS is spring break. Ah, the deafening silence.

We all went to the movies today, and everyone split up. Veda, Trudy and Leah to see Nim's Island. Trudy's boys to Superhero. And I ... I took the movie less frequented by. And it has made all the difference. (Apologies to Robert Frost for maiming his poem.)

I took Amy and Chaz to see Horton Hears a Who.

Now mind you ... I loved Dr. Seuss as a kid, and still enjoy reading his literature. Who wouldn't love The Foot Book? Yeah, yeah, yeah ... green eggs and ham and all that jazz. But there's so much more!

Anyhoo ... let me just say this ... movies can get the best of me. And apparently, good animated ones can, too. It hit me weird today, though. Why the heck was I choking up in the middle of Horton Hears a Who, for crying out loud?

It's the nature of the human spirit ... the willingness of everyone to want to survive. OMG ... I really did like this silly movie. I held myself together, but man, it was tough. I guess it's the fact that I really GET into the movie and connect with the characters, even if they are a goofy elephant or the mayor of Whoville.

Amy laughed as much as I did. Chaz was like Veda ... pretty quiet ... not much laughing out loud. Even when it was gut-busting funny. Weird. He was more interested in why we didn't have popcorn (we had just come from lunch) or why there were lights on the steps in the aisle.

So ... thumbs up for the movie. And if you don't get choked up ... then you must have a heart that's two sizes too small ... that's all.

Lunch Blyte

OK ... so I'm still suffering some ailment as described in my last post. But it hit me today that I'd be better off blogging short little snippets, perhaps while I'm eating lunch at my desk. I used to do this when a good friend of mine was stationed in Kosovo. I would sit down with my lunch and type up a Seinfeld letter ... much about nothing. Just banter ... jumping from one topic to the next. I think he enjoyed them. So this should be fun.

Here we are ... your lunch blyte for the day. Blog + byte. We're you really wondering? Not to mention, it rhymes with bite. So there you have it.

Topic for today: Sanford Mr. Sketch Scented Watercolor Markers. Can you believe these wonderful sticks of smell are still around??? I have a Blueberry one that was sitting here on my desk. I can remember saturating paper with color just so the aromatics of the picture would cloak the ineptitude of the visual. Teacher: "That doesn't really look like a flower." Chip: "Well no ... but smell it! Mmmmm."

I like almost all the colors but black. Black stinks. They now have a set of 18 (the original 12 plus some pastel flavorings: light pink bubble gum, lavender cotton candy, light yellow banana split, peach, light blue raspberry slushy and light green tropical punch.) I'll stick with the originals.

I think these markers have been around since 1972 ... I couldn't find a good history on them. I was five at the time and very impressionable. And I liked smells. So I have an affinity for these olfactory cylinders.

Kinda like the affinity for wet mimeograph paper. Those of you who are old enough ... you know what I'm talking about. And I'll admit ... I did inhale.

Have I Become a Blahgger?

I hit the ground running. Ah, a blog! A way to express myself and share a little bit of me with all of you. (Annie ... no comments about "yeah, both of us.")

I was firing off posts left and right ... leaving comments on blogs of my friends and their friends' blogs. I was excited to be in the blogosphere! Some of you even linked to my blog, and I wept. Course, I had to hint and beg, but you came through. The rest of you should follow suit.

And then it hit ... just as suddenly as it took off. It was like a train wreck.

I got blogstipated.

And don't pretend you don't know what that is. You log into your blog and you end up sitting there, trying your little heart out to produce something. You may even turn red in the face and break out in a sweat, straining for something. Anything! But nothing. The brain gets all stopped up. You're stuck ... bloated with emptiness ... wondering if you should investigate a blenema. I had to do more research before taking such a drastic step.

So I whipped out the trusty Wikipedia to see if I could determine exactly what condition I had ... to explain to me how it happened and what I should do about it.

Did I need to join B.A.? No, no, no ... this was the absense of the addiction. I was simply stuck. Certainly I could get things going without 10 steps.

But I had stalled after 10 random things. What was happening to me???

Was it blogtle dysfunction? Had the honeymoon worn off? Were mental issues affecting my performance? I mean ... I hadn't lost interest in blogging. To the contrary ... I was still infatuated with the ability to talk/type for an hour or so without interruption. But when it came time to do the deed, I was coming up short. Yes, it was sounding more like BD with every Google second going by. I even think I saw a commercial for this debilitating condition on The WB. Had I truly lost my li-bt-lo? (Log in, blog to, log out.) I'm only 40 ... it couldn't be.

But more alarming was the discovery of an entire plethora of conditions that I could face while in this wonderful world of Web 2.0. I pressed on.

Had I suffered from blogorrhea when I first joined in? I mean ... I wasn't incessantly blogging hour after hour, but I was doing it at least once a day. Sounds fairly regular to me ... no Pepto for me. I'd pass, thank you. Nasty stuff.

Many of you have come out of being blistless for a while ... a sense of apathy or disinterest with the whole thing. I'm glad to see you back. Perhaps knowing I wasn't alone would help.

I can assure you this much ... what you are reading is not a flog. It's all me, 100%. Fresh from the medulla oblongata, or somewhere near there I think.

Perhaps it's just a time issue ... not enough time when I'm sitting at the computer. Perhaps I should try moblogging from my cell phone? Short, sweet nothings to the blogdience? I know, I know ... you'd want more. And I can't do 80 words per minute on a ten-key.

But here I sit ... realizing my problems are finally over. I've emerged once again ... active and alive. I can go ride a horse or swim or do whatever I want, feeling fresh and renewed. I'm back in the blogging saddle, revived from reading all of your blogs ... finding my blog in your links ... laughing and singing and dancing. I can now stand up and move on with my life.

Yep ... all it took was a little blaxitive. Thanks folks ... you are all wonderful people.