Letters From Home

I have a hearing problem.

My father was mostly deaf, but leave it to me to be contrary; to me things sound much louder than they actually are.  I also can’t tolerate sharp or shrill sounds for long.

My husband worked for public radio stations for many years, and those stations played mostly classical music.  As I’ve gotten older, I am less and less able to tolerate the sounds of violins sawing away, so I tend to shy away from the local classical-music station, which seems to lust after violins the way the local classic rock station lusts after Led Zeppelin. (About whom I feel the same way.)

Last night, as we were listening to a recording of a fabulous concert featuring the new pipe organ in Orange County, I brought up (once again) my idea of a violin-free day.

If I had the money, I would underwrite one full day of programming, with the stipulation that there be no violins.  My husband raised the objection that that might be difficult to do, given the love of classical composers for stringed instruments, but as we got to talking about it, we realized it wouldn’t be that hard at all.  The organ concert we were listening to was a prime example of good music that would fit into a violin-free day.

There’s organ, and vocal, and brass, and woodwinds.  There’s music written before the violin was invented.  There’s piano, harp, and guitar.  I could probably tolerate some of the larger stringed instruments (cello and bass) if they were used sparingly.  The local classical music station long ago fell into a rut of playing Classical Top 40, and the announcers don’t coordinate with each other on what they pick to play on any given day, so on any given week you’re going to hear a lot of old warhorses you’ve heard five times already in the past week.

A violin-free day would be a challenge to them to think, for a change.  It would give the listeners a chance to hear music that doesn’t get played all day, every day.

Sure wish I had the money to bribe them underwrite that day.  Anybody want to join me in a letter writing campaign? 

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Not that today’s politics aren’t parody-worthy, but I haven’t gotten around to dealing with the current crop of candidates yet.  While I mull over the many possibilities, here’s one from years gone by.  And it was written well before the man in question really did get “voted out in two,” so chalk up a good prediction. 

Newt’s Mama Speaks Out

to the tune of “Officer Kruppke” (West Side Story)

Dear kindly Mrs. Gingrich,
You talked to Connie Chung,
She caught you whisper-ing “bitch”
So now your boy gets hung.
Your precious cherub darling
Now screams that he’s been had;
Golly whiskers, Newtie Poo was mad.
But dear Mrs. Gingrich,
It’s really OK,
We wouldn’t want you saying things that Newt wouldn’t say.
But don’t let him tell you you misunderstood,
Just let him take the heat but good.
Take the heat but good, ’cause he’s bad, not good,
So let him take the heat but good.

Dear Mrs. Maury Povich,
Beware a Newt surprise.
Don’t let him tell you “no bitch,”
‘Cause if he does, he lies.
You know he can’t deny it,
His mama told you true,
Holy smokers, what’s a Newt to do?
But dear Mrs. Povich,
You’ve got it on tape,
So never mind the sights and sounds of Newt going ape.
And don’t let him tell you you misunderstood,
Just let him take the heat but good.
Take the heat but good, he deserves it good,
So let him take the heat but good.

Dear kindly Mrs. Clinton,
The Newt called you a name,
And now the Newt is hintin’
That Connie gets the blame.
He says it’s off the record,
He says his mom was tricked,
Whoopee cushions, Newtie Poo is ticked!
But dear Mrs. Clinton, hang onto your poise,
The country will learn soon enough that Newt’s fulla noise.
His contract is bogus,
His head’s full of glue,
And he’ll be voted out in two.
He’ll be out in two, voted out in two,
So let him rave and rant and stew.  (Out in two!)

Dear kindly Mrs. Gingrich,
We’ve come to realize,
Let’s put it into English,
Your family takes the prize.
You beat the Corleones,
It’s very plain to see,
Ewwie, gooey, what a family!
So dear Mrs. Gingrich, get out while you can.
The country doesn’t need the Gingrich family plan.
Forgive us for hoping
You guys are all through….
Please join us in saying:  Newt Who!

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Years ago, I hung out online with a very creative group of people in CompuServe’s Science Fiction Forum. One of the things we loved doing was writing song parodies. I found that was something I enjoyed a lot and I think I was pretty good at it.

While I haven’t done it as much recently as in the past, it’s still something I enjoy. My most recent full-length parody was in honor of the show “Dirty Jobs.” I’m going to post a few of my efforts from years gone by, over the next few days. It’s taking me a while to dig up the archives, and some of the songs apparently either never got saved, or got saved somewehere I can’t find. Oh, to have Lotus Magellan back again!

But I’ll do my best. Hope my readers get at least a chuckle out of these.

The Unofficial Dirty Jobs Song

(to the tune of “I Will Survive”)

At first I was so clean, I was sanitized,
As dinner plates my floors were oh so very highly prized.
But then I spent so many nights watchin’ Mike Rowe on TV
I changed my mind, and I thought dirt’s the way to be.
But he’s not here, not at my door,
He’s chasing catfish round the pond and grabbing gators off the floor.
I should have cleaned up all that poo, I should have kissed that owl goodbye.
If Discovery’s not here soon the smell will make me puke and die.
Help me please, can’t find the door
Got piles of filthy turkey feathers sliding slowly to the floor.
Where can I go to learn to feel a cow’s behind?
It looked so easy, I’m sure the cow wouldn’t mind.
Oh someone please, please call DC,
I’d post a message on the board if I could only see.
I’ve got such a filthy place, don’t need egg upon my face,
Please call DC, please call DC, hey hey!

I bought all the Mr. Clean at the corner store,
I went through every single Swiffer and sent out for more.
And I used oh so many sponges cleaning up that pile of poo,
It made me heave, and now my landlord said to leave.
And here I am, out on the street,
I’m not that dirt-encrusted fan who thought that filth was neat.
And so my cell phone gave a ring and it was someone from DC,
Who said that Mike the Dirty Jobs guy would be coming after me.
Help me please, I’m on the floor.
There’s not a cow flop on my back bumper any more.
Where can I go to get my Dirty Jobs degree
Who do I thank, for pointing Mike Rowe to me?
Oh someone please, please call DC,
I’d post a message on the board if I could only see.
I had such a filthy place, now I’ve got egg upon my face,
Please call DC, please call DC…….

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So, I’m still fiddling around with Vista.

It is nowhere near as annoying as I feared it would be, but it’s just another iteration of Microsoft’s “You are too stupid to figure anything out for yourself” mind-set, and therefore falls all over itself trying to protect the user from ever having to oh, actually think.

I’ve shut off as many of those annoyances as I can, but I still haven’t been able to create new user accounts that work. I ran into a problem with Office 2000 (not enough memory, my ass) but found a workaround. Adobe 8 didn’t want to install itself right away, but Vista sent it out for updates and then it worked fine.

I have had no problems with installing anything so far, either from my own disks or downloaded. Of course, I haven’t had time to put it to any really extensive tests.

I can’t see any reason why anyone would want to run right out and buy this, but then again I never figured out why so many suck uh, people wanted to stand in line for Windows 95, either.

photo credit: ₣ңєя ™

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I’ve been catching up with Wil Wheaton’s TNG-episodes blog. Got a long, long way to go before I’m done. He’s a very entertaining writer and he had me the first time he described Wesley Crusher as a “weenie.”

When TNG was on, a group of us had great fun writing song parodies about the various episodes, in the Science Fiction Forum on CompuServe. I’ve saved many of the ones I wrote (thought I’d saved them all, but some of them appear to be irretrievably lost, doggone it) and Wesley Crusher was often described as a weenie by me and by others.

I’m going to search my archives and find as many of those song parodies as I can, and upload them somewhere for the general amusement of all and sundry. One of my songs was actually sung at a Trek convention and I’ve got an MP3 of that. The quality is the audio equivalent of a cell phone camera, but what the hell.

Now I just need to figure out where to put all this stuff once I find it.

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