the song

there is a 
song

there is a 
she

sometimes all
he wants to do
is play
a song

meanwhile

she just
wants
to be 
the
song

Good Times

Today I caught this classic 70s sitcom and happened to notice this particular episode originally aired 40 years ago to the date. This also means it's one of the very first, in it's intended form and fervor, the one where Florida gets a chance to be in a TV commercial. As I understand it, John Amos would leave the show a year later due to the direction the producers were taking, a sentiment eventually shared by Esther Rolle a couple seasons later. Network suits in all their wisdom, at least in that era, couldn't leave things be for long and would tweak even high-rated shows in an effort to engineer their appeal. They wanted more of Jimmy Walker's breakout appeal in place of substance, so, something had to give, and what could have been a few solid seasons turn hit and miss. But in the initial run we have a treat, this superbly cast working-class Evans family in the Chicago projects, they balance each other so well - Michael, Thelma, J.J., Florida and James Sr. Everyone has their place, they're heartfelt, touching, and especially, VERY funny.

ol' suse

all day
from dusk to dawn
they roam the fields
turning and plowing
all season long
together
a man
and his mule
he feeds the beast
gives it water
nurses it when sick
and calls it 
ol' suse
which happens to be
the name
of his sister
and 
when the mule
does something 
contrary
or does not do
what is required
he smacks it
repeatedly
on the nose
because

diet tribe

Hello sinners, bad spellers of the world, UNTIE! It's time for this spelling bee to buzz the hive and honey get a load of these biscuits, you know, get some from the chicken vendor at the K and share with your girlfriend while the bases are loaded, no balls and two strikes (0uch), but at least you don't need a license to line drive, just a sound mind, like a last will and testament, New Testament is preferred but "used" will be fine too, and by the way they get their bats from Looseyville, then we'll head down 65 for some pickin' and grinnin at the Opry, and while we're there, take a swig of some corn squeezin's from grandad's still, white lightnin', sour mash hot mouth rot-gut whiskey, for automotive use only 'cuz they used an old radiator, but our radiator's fine so we'll head across to the Smoky hills, on past Dolly Forge and the family style meals, pass the collard greens and so-so Elvis impressions and just get lost, you know, so we can find ourselves, but if it turns out you still can't find yourself just grab someone's GPS, just be sure to to ask first, and say please, because manners are a lost art, but I don't mind them, as a wise old dead sage once said, wherever we go, there we are, which reminds me, there used to be folks in GeoCities but now the broken links are becoming collector's items, oh how people laugh at me for collecting dust, but I can't help it, maybe I need help. Will you help me? PLEASE? And I'll even leave a post on your wall, "Just wanted to say thanks for a wonderful weekend without sex."

musing on childhood impressions once more...

To take grownup church to an Orwellian end you really just need a building with a sign reading REPENTANCE CENTER. Inside there's a rather stern looking gentleman at a desk and you WILL repent.

just once...

sometimes nothing else will do