July 03, 2008
In Honor of David Cronenberg Turning "The Fly" into an Opera
Brundle Fly, on wall (allegro):
"I can freely trundle from wall to ceiling,
Oh! My many eyes! What a feeling!
I do wish I didn't have a taste for poo;
but if you could fly like Brundle Fly
You'd deal with it, too!"
Crowd staring up at Brundle Fly (allegro):
He can trundle, trundle!
He is Brundle, Brundle!
See him there, upon the wall!
Into my soup I hope he doesn't fall!
Brundle Fly, on ceiling (andante):
Looking down / At so many of you;
Are my many eyes filled with deceit?
Ah, yes; I have become a fly;
I must be off to find some rotting meat.
Crowd, waving "shoo" hands around their faces (allegro):
He is Brundle, Brundle!
What a bundle, bundle!
Of him should we be afraid?
To be safe let's stock up on Raid!
Brundle Fly, almost transformed, melancholy, perched on meat (adagio):
Now spiderwebz / Haunt my dreamzzz;
The edge of every glazz is a prezipice;
Buzz by far / My greatest regret
Is paying alimony to Geena Davis!
Crowd, carrying cans of Raid and burning flyswatters (allegretto):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
The time has come for you to die!
It is disgusting to watch your molts!
Especially when you're Eric Stoltz!
Brundle Fly (allegro):
Zzzzzzz!!!
Crowd (presto):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
We must kill you until you die!
Before you knock up a hag that
Will give birth to a maggot!
Brundle Fly (vinaigrette):
Zzzzzzz! Zzzz, zzz zzzz;
Zzzzzz zzz / Zzzz zz zzzz!
Zzzzzzzzzz, z, zzzz?
Zzz Zzz Zzz / Zzz Zzzzzz!
Crowd (presto change-o):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
When everything is said and done!
You must say you were as surprised
As we were at your Broadway run!
Crowd sprays Raid onto burning flyswatters, a great buzz rises then fades, curtain drops on the dissipating bloom of flame.
"Fin."
"I can freely trundle from wall to ceiling,
Oh! My many eyes! What a feeling!
I do wish I didn't have a taste for poo;
but if you could fly like Brundle Fly
You'd deal with it, too!"
Crowd staring up at Brundle Fly (allegro):
He can trundle, trundle!
He is Brundle, Brundle!
See him there, upon the wall!
Into my soup I hope he doesn't fall!
Brundle Fly, on ceiling (andante):
Looking down / At so many of you;
Are my many eyes filled with deceit?
Ah, yes; I have become a fly;
I must be off to find some rotting meat.
Crowd, waving "shoo" hands around their faces (allegro):
He is Brundle, Brundle!
What a bundle, bundle!
Of him should we be afraid?
To be safe let's stock up on Raid!
Brundle Fly, almost transformed, melancholy, perched on meat (adagio):
Now spiderwebz / Haunt my dreamzzz;
The edge of every glazz is a prezipice;
Buzz by far / My greatest regret
Is paying alimony to Geena Davis!
Crowd, carrying cans of Raid and burning flyswatters (allegretto):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
The time has come for you to die!
It is disgusting to watch your molts!
Especially when you're Eric Stoltz!
Brundle Fly (allegro):
Zzzzzzz!!!
Crowd (presto):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
We must kill you until you die!
Before you knock up a hag that
Will give birth to a maggot!
Brundle Fly (vinaigrette):
Zzzzzzz! Zzzz, zzz zzzz;
Zzzzzz zzz / Zzzz zz zzzz!
Zzzzzzzzzz, z, zzzz?
Zzz Zzz Zzz / Zzz Zzzzzz!
Crowd (presto change-o):
Brundle Fly! Brundle Fly!
When everything is said and done!
You must say you were as surprised
As we were at your Broadway run!
Crowd sprays Raid onto burning flyswatters, a great buzz rises then fades, curtain drops on the dissipating bloom of flame.
"Fin."
July 01, 2008
Jump for joy
I'm a boy
My girl's a Jew
I'm a goy
The sky is blue
I can fly
Hello there, bird
It's July.
I'm a boy
My girl's a Jew
I'm a goy
The sky is blue
I can fly
Hello there, bird
It's July.
June 30, 2008
Half-way through 2008, and I feel special like a 3 in a sea of binary. It's gonna be a good pt. II, folks, a good pt. II.
June 26, 2008
FaithF*cked (II)
faith's dry bones
bone dry on the bake
drowned beneath
the lies
if wishes were tadpoles
we'd all eat like porn queens
but the wishes are buried
in the hardbake
guess we'll just have to keep
choking on the rod
maybe a good flood's what this place needs.
bone dry on the bake
drowned beneath
the lies
if wishes were tadpoles
we'd all eat like porn queens
but the wishes are buried
in the hardbake
guess we'll just have to keep
choking on the rod
maybe a good flood's what this place needs.
June 24, 2008
I'll hum a threnody for each of the seventeen seconds of daylight today is shorter than yesterday.
June 20, 2008
Wisconsin Flooding: Stayin' Apace
The ducks are no longer swimming in the water; the water has become each and all of the dimensions in which ducks quackily traverse this daily reality.
June 18, 2008
I hereby declare my intention to join the election race and run for the Office of Chief Happiness Officer of the United States of America.
Thank You, and God Bless.
Thank You, and God Bless.
June 16, 2008
Whenever a man smells like Lectric-Shave™, I assume he is a robot.
June 10, 2008
June 09, 2008
There is very little that bodes well about a Monday morning necessity for the phrase "wet fart bubble" to enter one's head with impatient, panicky authority.