AKA Earworm Central. "Keptin! They put creaturesin our bodies!"--Chekov
If you're gonna have a folder about beer, you gotta have some tunes.
My life flows on in endless song
above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real, through far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the
strife I hear that music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul, how
can I keep from singing?
Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire...
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild..
I fell in to a burning ring of fire.....[etc]
Whaddya know, it was still on the clipboard. :p
Grr.
Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire...
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild..
I fell in to a burning ring of fire.....[etc]
Hmmm.
You can stop this now.
I don't think I can.
Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire...
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild..
I fell in to a burning ring of fire.....[etc]
Grrr.
Get that cat outta here!
This behaviour will not get you invited to amie's for Christmas Dinner.
Could be worse than Ring of Fire. I had one of the tunes from the season slipped into my subconscious by the holiday muzak playing downstairs. I had to work hard to erase it.
Of course, now I too have Ring of Fire spinning through my brain...
Which holiday song?
Speaking of, a coworker gave me Ho! Ho! Hoey!yesterday. A review from amazon:
Guitar virtuoso Gary Hoey's first Christmas cd is a refreshing change of pace from traditional Christmas offerings. With his wah-wah "Rudolph" his countrified "Jingle Bells" his feedback laden "White Christmas" his slide guitar "Blue Christmas" and his Hendrix-tinged "Auld Lang Syne", Hoey delivers classic Christmas melodies with style and humor. His headbanging versions of "12 Days" and "God Rest Ye" will blow your doors off. A fine effort from a talented musician. Check out Vol's 2 and 3 which are as good or better.
Sounds like a nice variation on the theme!
I don't remember what song, I'm trying not to remember, remember? You sly sneaky BASTIGE.
Who, me? I wasn't trying to trick you. I was just curious. Honest!
::returns to plotting new evil scheme::
This, very much this.
Et tu, amie?
Most Definitely.
After all the things I do for you, this is the way I'm treated.
Heh. Yeah.
Somebody must pay.
Why thanks, buddy! I'll take another one of these Dogfish Head Immort-Ales, as long as you're buying!
Sure, pick the most expensive beer on the planet.
Now you're just exaggerating. Remember that huge Millenial Celebration bottle of whatever it was up on the shelf that wasn't for sale it was so expensive? :D
Sure, pick the most expensive beer you've ever drank.
Okay! Thanks!
amie, what'll you have? :)
<grumblegrumblebunchofingratesgrumble>
I'd most like whatever Frosti is brewing. I realize that makes me a panderer but who cares.
pan·der ( P ) Pronunciation Key (pndr)
intr.v. pan·dered, pan·der·ing, pan·ders
To act as a go-between or liaison in sexual intrigues; function as a procurer.
To cater to the lower tastes and desires of others or exploit their weaknesses: “He refused to pander to nostalgia and escapism” (New York Times).
n : someone who procures customers for whores (in England they call a pimp a ponce) [syn: pimp, procurer, panderer, pandar, fancy man, ponce] v 1: yield (to); give satisfaction to [syn: gratify, indulge] 2: act as a go-between for prostitutes [syn: pimp]
This sounds right...
And then you're going to exploit my weaknesses?
With any luck.
(Little does she know, I have no weaknesses.)
Heh. You also claimed to be issue-free and we disproved that little fallacy.
Bring it on, sistah.
Rumble in the beer joint - everybody grab your glasses!
Whee! :)
I sincerely miss those heavy metal bands
I used to go see on the landing in the summer
She fell in love with the drummer
She fell in love with the drummer
She fell in love
Shiny, shiny pants and bleach-blond hair
A double kick drum by the river in the summer
She fell in love with the drummer
Another and another
She fell in love
I miss the innocence I've known
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned
Unlock my body and move myself to dance
Moving warm liquid, flowing blowing glass
Classical music blasting masks the ringing in my ears
I sincerely miss those heavy metal bands
I used to go see on the landing in the summer
She fell in love with the drummer
She fell in love with another
She fell in love
I miss the innocence I've known
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned
Older Jeff Tweedy:
falling out the window
tripping on a wrinkle in the rug
falling out of love, dear
it hurt much worse when you gave up
just don't tell me which way I oughta run
or what good I could do anyone
'cause my heart it was a gun
but it's unloaded now
so don't bother
climbing up the ladder
breaking my shin on the very first rung
waking up the neighbors
it's all right,they understand they're just as dumb
and they don't tell me which way I oughta run
or what good I could do anyone
'cause my heart it was a gun
but it's unloaded now
so don't bother me now
don't bother
crawling back to you now
I sold my guitar to the girl next door
she asked me if I knew how
I told her I don't think so anymore
don't tell me which way I oughta run
what good could I do anyone
'cause my heart it was a gun
but it's unloaded now
so don't bother
DRINKING AGAIN
(written by : Doris Tauber / Johnny Mercer)
Frank Sinatra
Drinkin' again and thinkin' of when, when you loved me
I'm havin' a few and wishin' that you were here
Makin' the rounds, accepting a round from strangers
Bein' a fool just hopin' that you'll appear
Sure, I can borrow a smoke, maybe tell some joker a bad joke
        But nobody laughs, they don't laugh at a broken heart
Oh, yeah, I'm drinkin' again, it's always the same
That same old story
After the kicks there's little old mixed-up me
Tryin' to lose a dream that used to be
Look at me, I'm drinkin' again, drinkin' all over town
Yeah, I'm drinkin' again
DRINKING AGAIN
(written by : Doris Tauber / Johnny Mercer)
Frank Sinatra
Drinkin' again and thinkin' of when, when you loved me
I'm havin' a few and wishin' that you were here
Makin' the rounds, accepting a round from strangers
Bein' a fool just hopin' that you'll appear
Sure, I can borrow a smoke, maybe tell some joker a bad joke
        But nobody laughs, they don't laugh at a broken heart
Oh, yeah, I'm drinkin' again, it's always the same
That same old story
After the kicks there's little old mixed-up me
Tryin' to lose a dream that used to be
Look at me, I'm drinkin' again, drinkin' all over town
Yeah, I'm drinkin' again
DRINKING AGAIN
(written by : Doris Tauber / Johnny Mercer)
Frank Sinatra
Drinkin' again and thinkin' of when, when you loved me
I'm havin' a few and wishin' that you were here
Makin' the rounds, accepting a round from strangers
Bein' a fool just hopin' that you'll appear
Sure, I can borrow a smoke, maybe tell some joker a bad joke
        But nobody laughs, they don't laugh at a broken heart
Oh, yeah, I'm drinkin' again, it's always the same
That same old story
After the kicks there's little old mixed-up me
Tryin' to lose a dream that used to be
Look at me, I'm drinkin' again, drinkin' all over town
Yeah, I'm drinkin' again
I don't think it was *that* good, dude. Once was enough. Heh.
He's drinking A Lot.
I can see that you haven't recovered
from the girl who let you down
And you'd sell what is left of your soul
for another go-round
You keep telling yourself she means nothing
and maybe you should call her bluff
But you don't really believe it
You must not be drinkin' enough
Well, the perfume she wore you can buy
down at the Five & Dime
But on some other woman
it don't smell the same in your mind
You keep telling yourself you can take it
Telling yourself that you're tough
But you still wanna hold her
You must not be drinkin' enough
You're not drinkin' enough
to wash away old memories
And there ain't enough whiskey in Texas
to keep you from beggin',
"Please, please, please."
She passed on your passion
and stepped on your pride
Turns out you ain't quite so tough
'Cause you still wanna hold her
You must not be drinkin' enough
Ay-yi-yi-yi
Ask yourself why
You still wanna hold her
You must not be drinkin' enough
Ay-yi-yi-yi etc.
D. Henley
I'd love to get you
On a slow boat to China
All to myself alone
Get you and keep you
In my arms ever more
Leave all your lovers
Weepin' on a far away shore
Out on the briny
With the moon big and shiny
Melting your heart of stone
Homey I'd love to get you
On a slow boat to China
All by myself alone
INSTRUMENTAL
I'd love to get ya
On a slow boat to China
All to myself alone
A twist in the rudder
And a rip in the sails
Drifting and dreamin'
Honey throw the compass over the rail
Out on the ocean
Far from all the commotion
Melting your heart of stone
Honey I'd love to get you
On a slow boat to China
All to myself alone.
Santa’s stressed out as the holiday season draws near
He’s been doing the same job now going on two thousand years
He’s got pains in his brain and chimney scars cover his buns
He hates to admit it, but christmas is more work than fun
He needs a vacation from bad decorations and snow
Mr. claus has escape plans, a secret that only he knows
Beaches and palm trees appear night and day in his dreams
A break from his wife, his half frozen life
The elves and that damn reindeer team
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Santa’s run off to the caribbean
He thinks about boat drinks and fun in the sun
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Plastic creations and crass exploitations aren’t good
He wants to go back to simple toys made out of wood
Just for the weekend he’d like to be peter pan
Get out his long johns and dance with a sword in the sand
Chorus:
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Santa’s run off to the caribbean
Marimbas, calimbas, he’s playing steel drums
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
(bridge)
Chorus:
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Santa’s run off to the caribbean
Marimbas, calimbas, he’s playing steel drums
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Ho ho ho and a bottle of rhum
Santa’s run off to the caribbean
A week in the tropics and he’ll be all right
Sporting a tan as he rides out of sight
(over the drums)
Merry christmas to all and to all a good night
She was the rose of Sharon from paradise lost
From the city of seven hills near the place of the cross.
I was playing a show in Miami in the theater of divine comedy.
Told about Jesus, told about the rain,
She told me about the jungle where her brothers were slain
By a man who danced on the roof of the embassy.
Was she a child or a woman, I can't say which
From one to another she could to easily switch
We went into the wall to where the long arm of the law could not reach.
Could I been used and played as a pawn?
It certainly was possible as the gay night wore on
Where men bathed in perfume and celebrated free speech.
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.
She looked into my soul through the clothes that I wore
She said, "We got a mutual friend over by the door,
And you know he's got our best interest in mind."
He was well connected but her heart was a snare
And she had left him to die in there,
There were payments due and he was a little behind.
The cry of the peacock, flies buzz my head,
Ceiling fan broken, there's a heat in my bed,
Street band playing "Nearer My God to Thee."
We met at the steeple where the mission bells ring,
She said, "I know what you're thinking, but there ain't a thing
You can do about it, so let us just agree to agree."
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.
Atlantic City by the cold grey sea
I hear a voice crying, "Daddy," I always think it's for me,
But it's only the silence in the buttermilk hills that call.
Every new messenger brings evil report
'Bout armies on the march and time that is short
And famines and earthquakes and hatred written upon walls.
Would I have married her? I don't know, I suppose.
She had bells in her braids and they hung to her toes
But I kept hearing my name and I had to be movin' on.
I saw screws break loose, saw the devil pound tin,
I saw a house in the country being torn from within.
I heard my ancestors calling from the land far beyond.
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.
Guess who sucks?
I love you too, dude. :)
Sorry, that must be the insane jealousy talking.
But you do suck.
Thank you, thank you. Keep those aspersions coming. He'll be here all week folks! And the one after that - he's not going to the Caribbean you see.
Heh.
I would be gleeful about the coupla days we'll be sunning on Colombia's caribbean coast in Feb, except that my asshole father in law and his neurotic wife will be accompanying us.