A song dedicated to the various Melissa Etheridge Clones--lesbian and straight--who assault the ears while one is waiting for the movie to begin.
I Can’t Find My Birkenstocks / Lesbian Lament
You took my love and now you’ve gone
Away for milk and pannetone
You went for groceries and you disappeared
It’s quite as if you never cared.
I search for this, I search for that,
You took the photos and the cat,
The pots, the pans and half the plants
The coffee mugs and my good pants.
I look for you in small cafes
And Starbucks sipping grande lattes.
You took the toaster and the clocks
And I can’t find my Birkenstocks
I can’t find my Birkenstocks.
I sit alone with no one there
I do my nails and brush my hair,
I had it cut, it looks real nice
It’s a color they call “Mocha Spice.”
I bought new pans and I got a cat
Redid the kitchen bright pink matte.
Bought new jeans and they’re distressed
Holes on the hips and I get dressed
To look for you in small cafes
At Starbucks sipping grande lattes
The toaster’s new and all the clocks
But I can’t find my Birkenstocks
I still can’t find my Birkenstocks.
Hoof Ardette
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Leonard Cohen Parody
30 September
Leonard Cohen is a brilliant composer and often his songs are moving and effective. But the combination of self-loathing, hostility, and mysticism gets tiresome, eh? Why not just put on a hair shirt and try to write Paul Anka songs? It would be fun. Instead, we get things not unlike the following:
The Buddha Song
Your hair is golden, your buttocks are firm
Girls and boys see you and they start to squirm
You can light up a room that was given to gloom
You cavort, tease and flirt while large shadows loom
And you deny that you know it, though you surely do
So what makes you think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like you?
You quote some old sutras and smile like you know
Some secrets that only the privileged can know
Your credentials are doubtful, your knowledge too glib
When you quote a koan it sounds like a fib
Your questions are those with answers too pat
With sartori waiting you’ll surely fall flat
So what do think that the Buddha would do
With a little trick like you?
Your spirit is wanting, though your body is nice
You think that you’re warm, but your touch is like ice
You do not think twice of the souls in your wake
I can’t quite convince them that your soul is fake
You look good in saffron while you’re chanting OM,
By a lake or the Ganges you act like you’re home
Now what acts would the Buddha perform
On a little trick like you?
The way it is waiting if you have the key
And the guru has said he won’t give it to me
But for you he’s wide open cause he’s charmed by your force
He’s pointing the way to the one and first Source
Your path might be thorny but he’ll get you there
With shoes for your soul and balm for your care
But I’ve washed his feet with my tears while he sneered at me
Why did I think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like me?
Mike Perkovich
Leonard Cohen is a brilliant composer and often his songs are moving and effective. But the combination of self-loathing, hostility, and mysticism gets tiresome, eh? Why not just put on a hair shirt and try to write Paul Anka songs? It would be fun. Instead, we get things not unlike the following:
The Buddha Song
Your hair is golden, your buttocks are firm
Girls and boys see you and they start to squirm
You can light up a room that was given to gloom
You cavort, tease and flirt while large shadows loom
And you deny that you know it, though you surely do
So what makes you think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like you?
You quote some old sutras and smile like you know
Some secrets that only the privileged can know
Your credentials are doubtful, your knowledge too glib
When you quote a koan it sounds like a fib
Your questions are those with answers too pat
With sartori waiting you’ll surely fall flat
So what do think that the Buddha would do
With a little trick like you?
Your spirit is wanting, though your body is nice
You think that you’re warm, but your touch is like ice
You do not think twice of the souls in your wake
I can’t quite convince them that your soul is fake
You look good in saffron while you’re chanting OM,
By a lake or the Ganges you act like you’re home
Now what acts would the Buddha perform
On a little trick like you?
The way it is waiting if you have the key
And the guru has said he won’t give it to me
But for you he’s wide open cause he’s charmed by your force
He’s pointing the way to the one and first Source
Your path might be thorny but he’ll get you there
With shoes for your soul and balm for your care
But I’ve washed his feet with my tears while he sneered at me
Why did I think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like me?
Mike Perkovich
Friday, September 28, 2007
Snafuses Inaugural
28 September 2007
Good evening (your name here),
Why don't the airlines pass out tins of SpaghettiOs and a can opener? It would be at least as good as the food they used to serve and would cost less.
Pity poor Senator Craig
Who suffers from real restless leg
It sets his foot tapping
When he oughtta be crapping
But it isn't jet lag it's fag tag.
Conservative Senator Craig
Thought that fruits were a drag
True he loved playing footsie
To be some cop's tootsie
But he certainly wasn't a fag.
Good evening (your name here),
Why don't the airlines pass out tins of SpaghettiOs and a can opener? It would be at least as good as the food they used to serve and would cost less.
Pity poor Senator Craig
Who suffers from real restless leg
It sets his foot tapping
When he oughtta be crapping
But it isn't jet lag it's fag tag.
Conservative Senator Craig
Thought that fruits were a drag
True he loved playing footsie
To be some cop's tootsie
But he certainly wasn't a fag.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)