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September 24, 2008

WE CANNOT REFUTE A SINGLE WORD

Joy Sonnet in a Random Universe

by Helen Chasin

Sometimes I am happy: la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la la la. Tum tum ti tum. La la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
Hey nonny nonny. La la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la. Vo do di o do.
Poo poo pi doo. La la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la. Whack a doo. La la la la la la la. Sh-
boom, sh-boom. La la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la. Dum di dum. La la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la. Tra la la. Tra la la
la la la la la la la la la la. Yeah yeah yeah.

(Thanks to someone who sent this in via snailmail, along with a letter that begins: See there is talk of Barack Obama alas not likely for President because he is like "black." Hey nonny nonny.)

Comments

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wow. got a closet full o tin foil hats.
hey nonny nonny and a ha-cha-cha.

Nonny Nonny?

Obviously a blatant, card-carrying Tofurkian. La, la, la your own dang self.

John, they said you had a temper. But your letter is so cheerful.

Wait -- he's BLACK? Well, that changes everything.

don we now our hats of tinfoil, falala,lalala,la-la-la!

I find this song oddly comforting, in a random way.

Of course, I still think "Louie Louie" was about sailing..

He's black? Really? Well I'll be a tofurkey's uncle.

(btw, that's a real 'sonnet' by a real 'poet.' She even won a prize from Yale. Makes you wanna cry right in your tofurkey.

Glad to see Manilow's lyricist has found work.

Yale's got it goin' on, don't it?

That's not a sonnet; that's a verbatim transcript of my girlfriend if I bring up politics.

"Whack a doo" indeed.

*snork* @ Cat. Eli, eli, oh!

See there is talk of Helen Chasin alas not likely for Nobel Prize in Literature.

Mental illness in verse form!

He's only LIKE "black," according to this nimrod moron poetess. Apparently, she sent this in honor of National Punctuation Day.

Loony loony?

I read this to mean that the poet and the sender-inner were two different people. I think. 'Cause that poem was written a LONG time ago, probably when the poet was tripping on acid. And if my Googling is acccurate, she's 80 years old now. Or dead.

As you can see, I do type accccurately.

They have a point about Barack being LIKE black, since he's 50% white. I had a hyper-hand-wringing Barry supporter call me a racist recently, and since I'm an avowed caucasian I had to ask which half I was accused of insulting.

MS, this is meant entirely as a riff on your comment, a statement about what may be ridiculous.

We know that Obama is related to Cheney, on his Mom's side, going back to relatives in South Carolina; Obama has joked about it. We know that Obama has said that reparations for slavery are not enough, by themselves. So I wonder: does he believe a resolution for that issue begins with him writing a check to his wife? Certainly, despite my skin color, my family was very poor prior to the GI Bill after WWII and didn't even immigrate to this country until the latter half of the 19th Century, so no member of my family would ever have to contribute towards reparations.

What a paradox!

Valid point, CJ. I debated this with a colored gent years back, mentioning my lineage in the States began well after slavery as well, and my ancestors could not speak English when they landed while his forebears were fluent and working at the time. The thrust I stated was in trying to get him to tell me how his life today is impacted by slavery - never got a straight answer.

And now the rest of the blog has fingers in their ears while saying, "Tralalalalala, whack-a-do, tra-lalalalala."

Strangely, (and sadly), these lyrics make more sense to me than these...

Nice earwig, frodo!

♫ Na na na na na na na na hey hey...good bye...♬

I was going to vote for Obama until I found out he is half white- someecards.com

I was going to vote for Obama until I found out he is half white- someecards.com

snork to cj and his girlfriend.

and now for a real sonnet:

the silent night air soughs through rose curtains, their parting the moonlight bestows
on her gentle figure wrapped loosely in cotton, dreaming of what no-one knows
i lean closer and closer still for i hear a faint purr or a sigh
it seems that the moonlight has cast a spell o'er us and somehow has brought her dreams nigh
i can hear them! faint music and voices! and i see shapes now though my eye's closed
i pinch myself roughly to ensure what I’m seeing is not my own dreaming supposed
transfixed i look deeper still longing to know my love's heart like my own even more
i know her soul's silhouette, outline, or cameo those contours i long to explore
i struggle to understand shapes that i see, i strain at the sounds and their meaning
for more than salvation my heart aches to know is it of me that she's dreaming?

looking closer i see a wee girl (maybe three) holding a kitten and singing
a nuzzled sweet lullaby with gentle caresses as it rumbles a bass pedal tone
so she dreams not of me but of life lived discreet from outrageous fortune's slinging
and my hair was then parted by the gust that she farted confirming that i'll die alone

thank you, don't forget to tip your waiter. i'll be here till thursday

OK, this will pro'lly (National Punctuation Day, after all...) probably come through as a double post, but I've been waiting QUITE some time for the bot to release it to the post, so bear with me!

back at ya', Sio (letting that go in SPITE of National Punctuation Day...)

btw, the lead singer has most of my Parkinson's clients beat in the "Spastic Movements" category by a mile!!

And Steam had "Tiny Tim" as their drummer? Hu Nu?

In case you have not figured it out yet, this post is from/to/on/under the geezer bus...

Just occurred to me, "The Spastic Movements" WBAGNFARB!...

"Wrapped up like a douche, you know we rolled her in the night?" Any other contributions?, 'cause I sure don't know what he's saying... BTW, I know Bruce Springsteen wrote the song during his I'm on LSD, or maybe hydrochloric acid" 'blue' period'," but I challenge anyone on this blog to give me the actual, official, lyrics to this song, because, until you do, I'm sticking with "Wrapped up like a douche, you know we rolled her in the night..."


"Wrapped up like a deuce, another roller in the night"

But, Siouxie, that phrase has no meaning whatsoever, unless you 'splain it to me...

Mud, for the first time all day, I laughed out loud.

Olive, you have to forget Manfred Mann and realize that Springsteen wrote that, form the Jersey streets. That's "Deuce" not douche.

I remember my first day of grad school, they had all of us play a volleyball game. Now, I was a serious v-ball player, but playing nice. A goofy kid rumbled by in a 1969 Challenger with a freakin' set of wheelie-bars, punched it and one other guy besides me laughed and said, "Wheelie bars!" Every other grad student looked at us disdainfully, in public, and one asshole said, "stupid people with their stupid, inefficient cars". Everybody approved of that guy. However, I was the only grad student that went into the parking lot and helped out the head of the grad student association, when his car was dead, in a rainstorm. When I popped the hood on my 1968 Mustang he said, "Holy Shit"! At that time, I had a mere 600,000 miles on it and it was absolutely clean, without an ounce of dirt on it and getting a legitimate 22 mpg. There are very few cars in the world that could beat that car in a 0 to 60 race, even today at close to 900,000 miles. Above 60, it's a ridiculous car; it gets squirrely, the front end gets light, and you must back off. 6 cylinder motors are too light for that car design, over 60.

It was Deuce.

Sioxie, can you provide lyrics for the whole song? A waiting frodo dave lots of folks blog wants to know...

Courtesy of Wikipedia:
The song's swiftly-paced, jumbled lyrics are stream of consciousness descriptions of a series of bizarre individuals he met while a young artist in New Jersey. Playing small venues, such as bars along the Jersey Shore, Springsteen recounts various characters from these events. He alludes to Vini "Mad Dog" Lopez, then his drummer, in the opening line "Madman drummers", as well as the "silicone sister" (bartender, possibly referring to an erotic dancer) who encourages him to play a particular, unknown song. United by the chorus: "And (s)he was blinded by the light/cut loose like a deuce, another runner in the night/Blinded by the light/(S)he got down but (s)he never got tight, (s)he's gonna make it (alright) tonight", the song goes on to chronicle Springsteen's trouble to get the bar patrons, who rarely cared about or even heard the music, to get excited by his performance.

Blinded By The Light
Madman drummers bummers and Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder feelin' kinda older I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasing sneezing and wheezing the calliope crashed to the ground
Some all-hot half-shot was headin' for the hot spot snappin' his fingers clappin' his hands
And some fleshpot mascot was tied into a lover's knot with a whatnot in her hand
And now young Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot and throws his lover in the sand
And some bloodshot forget-me-not whispers daddy's within earshot save the buckshot turn up the band

And she was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tight, but she'll make it alright

Some brimstone baritone anti-cyclone rolling stone preacher from the east
He says: "Dethrone the dictaphone, hit it in its funny bone, that's where they expect it least"
And some new-mown chaperone was standin' in the corner all alone watchin' the young girls dance
And some fresh-sown moonstone was messin' with his frozen zone to remind him of the feeling of romance

Yeah he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight

Some silicone sister with her manager's mister told me I got what it takes
She said I'll turn you on sonny, to something strong if you play that song with the funky break,
And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart to see if it was safe to go outside
And little Early-Pearly came in by her curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride,
Oh, some hazard from Harvard was skunked on beer playin' backyard bombardier
Yes and Scotland Yard was trying hard, they sent a dude with a calling card,
he said, do what you like, but don't do it here
Well I jumped up, turnedaround, spit in the air, fell on the ground
Asked him which was the way back home
He said take a right at the light, keep goin' straight until night, and then boy, you're on your own

And now in Zanzibar a shootin' star was ridin' in a side car hummin' a lunar tune
Yes, and the avatar said blow the bar but first remove the cookie jar we're gonna teach those boys to laugh too soon

And some kidnapped handicap was complainin' that he caught the clap from some mousetrap he bought last night,

Well I unsnapped his skull cap and between his ears I saw
a gap but figured he'd be all right

He was just blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the sun
Oh but mama that's where the fun is

Now, would somebody please tell me who the hell Helen Chasin is/was and what she was on and where I can get me some?

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