Brain Still Idling

The parody of Anchors Aweigh is now as finished as it's every going to be:

Wankers all night, and then . . .
Wankers all day!
You know those Navy men—
They masturbate their lives away.
At first—pre-ejaculate;
Then—creamy foam.
(Keep whites immaculate
By shipping all your dirty laundry home.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

I'm fond of the repeated then, which gives the thing some balance. And, while it may mystify my public (if any), nothing tickles me like ribaldry expressed in "high" language: masturbate and pre-ejaculate. One of my favorite limericks ends, And they argued all night/As to who had the right/To do what, and with which, and to whom. That prissy accusative, whom, always sends me into ecstasies of merriment.

But enough. A blog is no place to express oneself.

Facebook Fallout

The subject of birthers has arisen on Facebook, and today prompted the following, with apologies to Dorothy Parker:

A roving American mama,
While sojourning one day in Kenya,
Gave birth to Barack H. Obama--
And I, folks, am Vincent Gardenia.

Verse © Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

An Idle Brain Is The Devil's Workshop

This morning, while I was waiting for a bus, the following slowly oozed into the ol' cerebrum like warm molasses. To the tune of Anchors Aweigh:

Wankers all day, my boys;
Wankers all day.
When naval duty cloys,
We masturbate our lives away.
So first—pre-ejaculate;
Then—creamy foam.
(Keep whites immaculate
By shipping all your dirty laundry home.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

It's a rough draft, I suppose--I don't much care for cloys, and so is mere filler; but I don't regret having added three extra syllables in place of the original day-ay-ay-ay.

A few scraps of ideas came to me a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't had time to work 'em out. You may watch this space for further developments, but don't hold your breath while doing so.

The Nyok Times reports that, with the assistance of the United States, John Demjanjuk is to be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb.

Of course, little has changed in Germany over the past 75 years. But I'm a bit chagrined to think how much has changed Stateside.

Scandalous!

This in today from the Nyok Times. About a bank robber who accidentally let his gun go off during a heist, and copped a heavier sentence in consequence.

How can a nation be enlightened enough to elect That Guy in the White House, and yet still be so benighted as to penalize people for being intensely stupid? It makes no sense.

More Nonce Lyrics

The Young Idea has been visiting colleges, and a couple of lyrics have popped into the noggin while I've waited around for her. The first was to the tune of--get this--the theme song to Stan Freberg's faux TV western, Bang Gunleigh, U.S. Marshal Field, from The Best of Stan Freberg Shows (and if you're not acquainted with that august album, shame on you!). The tune I can't give you, but the original lyric runs something like this:

Bang Gunleigh,
U.S. Marshal Field,
Riding east, west, north and south:
You can tell he stands for justice
By the way he draws a gun,
And the proud look about his green mouth [from his having eaten the sponsor's product, Puffed Grass, you see].

I deeply regret the obscurity of the melody, but the Muse is too bitchy to be thwarted by a pipsqueak like me; so here goes:

Johns Hopkins
University,
With the pre-med student bod:
It's a cinch they churn out doctors
Like a sausage-meat machine,
Every last one of whom will play God.

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

The next trip was to Grinnell College, in Grinnell, Iowa, which yielded the following, set to the more recognizable Hello, Dolly!:

Grinnell College
Is a swell college,
Though it's way the heck out West in Timbuktu;
The undergrad students
Aren't such bad students--
When somebody
Has to study,
He says, "Whoop-de-doo!"
So spend your last dollar--
Be a real scholar--
Wind up smarter than you were when you were born.
(Though, let me say, people,
Apropos I-o-way, people:
Just to be nice, I won't refer--
Just to be nice, I won't refer--
Just to be nice, I won't refer to corn.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

As so often happens with my stuff, it sags towards the end. Ah, me!

Free at Last

Yesterday, I decided that it was high time to get connected to the Internet. It's A.D. 2009, I told myself, and everyone and his brother is websurfing these days; why shouldn't I? Nay--why shouldn't I, ba goom?!

So I canceled my account with Verizon DSL.

Instantaneously, my connection problems have ceased, and I'm now a websurfin' fool.

(This means, of course, that the old parody website is Code 423-Locked. But I took the elementary precaution of downloading its contents before canceling the account. Someday, I suppose, I'll post it summers else.)

So I highly recommend to everyone within eyeshot of this page that canceling Verizon DSL is the only way to go!

P.S. The ol' Ball-and-Socket tells me that a solicitor for Verizon FiOS has already knocked twice at our door this week. I just had to laugh.