When in doubt, dumb doggerel will do

Put Another Nikolai In

The working day starts sundowning
grab a vodka latte shake
at Tatiana’s Tiki Carnivale
& Lava Steamed Clambake.
Beyond abandon, city streets
somewhere out, past grittin’ smiles
but not too close to “somewhere green”.
It’s really just a couple miles.
Galloping calliope sends
merry horses round the bend.
Tilt a’ Whirl exudes an
Aqua Velva/ Tigress blend.
What is this we’re sensing?
Follow the crowd down the midway.
The soundtrack to a T. McGee,
those scratched records that your parents played.
Tsars have sacked the pediment
tom rolls plough through solar plexus
Ultra-manly bass noise
surfs woven waves of Gretsch’s.
Guys and dolls are grooning
Jack Nitzsche tips the wink
add dulcet organ whinging
all driving you to your next drink.
Back home you strigil snake oil
maybe lave your brain with art
cast fluffy, virgin, laundry loads in
the swelling temple of your heart
Like he said, the bourbon’s warm now
knuckle sleep out of your eye
another steamy, working, morning
when seven thirty four rolls by.

Hey remember?

We used to say:

Riki tiki tembo no sii rembo
cherry berry ruchi
pit perry pembo

Why? Why did we say that?

Also:
Flea
flea fly
flea fly flo
veesta
cumalata cumalata cumalata veesta
o no no no
not kaveesta
eena meeny desi meeny oowalla walla meeny
eeny meeny desi meeny ooo walla wah
beat billy oten doten bo bo be deeten daten
shh

I have a feeling that one came from Gullah. I’m not sure why, just an intuition.

Gibby is the king of awesome

I just got a comp with "Movin' To Florida" on it (which I pretty much bought it for). I don't know why I think this is one of the best songs ever, I just do. I haven't even heard it, in like, 20 years and it's been haunting me the whole time. Well I just listened to it about 16 times and here as best as I can tell are the lyrics-

Moving To Florida The Butthole Surfers

I’m a’gonna move down to Florida
and I’m gonna bowl me a perfect game
I’m gonna cut off my leg down in Florida
and I’m a’gonna dance one legged, off in the rain

Well they say that Sidney Portier was a blind man
and they say that LBJ was a Soviet Jew
I tell that when I go down to Florida way
there ain't no kind of sexual healing that I would not, should not or could not do
I say this right here

Well I’m moving down to Florida
and you know that I’m a’gonna have to potty train the Chairman Mao
And I’m gonna make the governor write my doo-doo a letter child
And then I’m gonna grind me a White Castle slider outta India’s sacred cow

Well I’m goin’ down to Florida child huh huh
and I’m gonnna build me the atomic bomb
I’m gonna hold time hostage down in Florida child
ain’t nobody, ain’t nobody gonna tell me what to do, stepchild

By this time I guess you figured out about Florida
Turn the muddy water inta’ vaseline stained
They be making tadpoles the size of Mercury’s in Florida
That be telling Julio Iglesias what to sing now

Well whoever said that Sidney Portier was a blind man
knew the same of Elvis Presley too
Cuz all the sausages that dance like Ray Bolger on the hood of a car in a traffic jam
Know just exactly what to do - right here

Well I be going to Florida
pole cats and dusty seminoles son
You know that I’m in Florida
just like Vince I walk (unintelligible)
When I went down to Florida I got hurt
So I took all the children down to Florida
then I started to get lonely gee
Well I’m never going back to Florida
That's why I’m leaving J W
When I settle down in Florida
I’m a gonna explode the whole darn Tampa Bay
Get that boy in Florida
to teach me what to do

Good Old Boy

I dreamed of Tom Mott. He hasn’t been seen (by me anyway) for twenty years or more.
Basically his story was you take a big, fairly handsome football player type and put him in a severe car accident in his late teens. The body is fine but the Traumatic Brain Injury basically turns him into one bigass kid, with a mans appetites. He had a penchant for reciting incredibly goofy, hippie inspired, doggerel, quarts of Miller beer and young girls. We used to hang out with him and his best buddy “Sylvia Superdog” quite a bit when we ourselves were kids. He was always good for a couple bucks if you cut him in on the fun. He had a souped up Catalina and he could buy liquor. The basic theory was, put the cute girls up front with him and he’d drive you and your crew anywhere.

I remember going to his house a few times. I can’t see his Mother’s face in my memory but I can see a little, wispy woman in a house frock and apron wringing her hands and sort of moaning as Tom would gleefully and with great, grinning, enthusiasm tell her what the demented plan of the day was. This sad, old, very worried, widow woman with the 6’5, 280 lb. 10 year old couldn’t do shit about stopping whatever we had cooked up. And we ourselves were not much different than Tom, we had little comprehension of the impact that acting on our desires had on the world around us.

I have dreamed of him before but it’s been a long time. In that dream I was trying to find out where Sylvia Superdog was but I couldn’t get any sense out of the huge, blubbering, man child.

Childhood doggerel

“I eat my peas with honey
I’ve done it all my life
it makes the peas taste funny
but it keeps them on the knife.”

I thought of this for the first time in years because I had a special treat today, honey on me toast. It’s been so expensive for so long but it was on sale the other day so I got two.