Musical Parody of Baba O’Riley

Middle Age Waistband (Babar O’belly)
Sung to Baba O’Riley by The Who

Out here my waist reels
From too many meals
I can’t fit into my old jeans
Its no use to fight
Its way too tight
I need a diet of just plain beans

Don’t cry
Bout getting wide
Its on-ly middle age waistband

Sally take that ham
And toss it in the can
Shut off the oven
I can’t eat that pork shoulder
The fitness guru’s here
To help me lose my rear
I got to lose it
Before we get much older

Middle aged waistband
Its only an expanding waistband
Oh yea
Middle age waistband
We’re all wasting

Jack and Diane 2015

A musical parody sung to Mellencamps “Jack and Diane”

A little ditty, bout’ Jack an Diane
Two over the hill aged kids livin’ in the heartland
Jack used to be a football star
But now Jack cant see above the dashboard of his car

Suckin’ down prune juice outside the pharmacy
Dianne sat on Jack lap and nearly broke his damn knees
Jack said hey Diane lets wobble over to the shady tree
Its been 15 minutes, and I really must pee.

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after control, of body functions are gone
Say, oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of using it is gone

Jack sits back, can’t collect his thoughts at this moment
Scratches his head and does his “who was James Dean?”
Well ya know Diane we should do it in the city
Diane says baby, you already past that scene

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of making love is gone
Oh yea, life goes on
But now they got pills so now lets get it on. Now Rock on!

I can’t rock, I can’t roll
Let the nurse come down and save my soul
Hold on to 60, as long as you can
Changes come around real soon
Like depends made for women and man

A little ditty, bout Jack and Diane
Two aging lovers growing together, best they can

Jack and Diane 2015

A musical parody sung to Mellencamps “Jack and Diane”

A little ditty, bout’ Jack an Diane
Two over the hill aged kids livin’ in the heartland
Jack used to be a football star
But now Jack cant see above the dashboard of his car

Suckin’ down prune juice outside the pharmacy
Dianne sat on Jack lap and nearly broke his damn knees
Jack said hey Diane lets wobble over to the shady tree
Its been 15 minutes, and I really must pee.

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after control, of body functions are gone
Say, oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of using it is gone

Jack sits back, can’t collect his thoughts at this moment
Scratches his head and does his “who was James Dean?”
Well ya know Diane we should do it in the city
Diane says baby, you already past that scene

Oh yea, life goes on
Long after the thrill, of making love is gone
Oh yea, life goes on
But now they got pills so now lets get it on. Now Rock on!

I can’t rock, I can’t roll
Let the nurse come down and save my soul
Hold on to 60, as long as you can
Changes come around real soon
Like depends made for women and man

A little ditty, bout Jack and Diane
Two aging lovers growing together, best they can

Cosmo’s Journey Continues

You say you want an evolution

When god sized portions of Meade and Weed are in play even a god will suffer the effects of a massive hangover. Combine that with mushroom juice and whatever the hell that plus shit was, not to mention the pleasure muscle getting an ardent workout the previous evening and it was almost impossible for Cosmo to extricate himself from the comalike comforts of sleep. On any other morning he would have taken a long casual sweet ass time to depart from his dormancy but on this day he was far too excited. The Board had approved his bid for knowledge tinkering and he had to meet up with Tall God for the obligatory lecture before actually acquiring the necessary seeds. First to shake of the hangover he poured himself a cup of steaming salicylate tea, a spicy mint flavored tea that helps one focus with an added bonus of dulling the effects of a never again kind of night. While it eased the pain a bit even the tea could not erase his odd sense of paranoia. Cosmo pondered that strange feeling he had last night. He was certain someone else was in that room! Perhaps someone had watched their session of passion exchange but a feeling nagged him that someone else was in the room with them The last time he had the odd sensation of such a paranoia was shortly before his dinosaur planet had gone to shit. Could there be a connection? Maybe a long hot shower will wash the feeling away.
A steaming shower of hot liquid methane always hits the spot. As the silvery methane beat down on his tired body he allowed an involuntary gasp sneak out. He could feel the mixture of body fluids that had acquired all over his body scampering down his legs in search of the drain. The gasp accompanied the fluids and Cosmo began to feel the paranoia dissipate. He reflected on his evening of unbridled passionate love making. It was somewhat unusual for a god to giving such thought about a non god but last night was exceptional on every level for coz. Mary Anne had gone beyond meeting his sexual needs and tapped into a feeling foreign to the gratified god. Cosmo splashed some hot methane on his face and shook it off. “Never get attached,” he mumbled to no one.
Freshly invigorated from the steamy methane shower he applied cesium oxide in his eyes to get the red out, splashed a dab of sephora extract behind his ears and began feeling much better. He quickly got dressed and headed of to the Intergalactic Café where he was to meet Tall God. The Intergalactic Café was considered by most to serve the best brunch in the universe. Remarkably high glasslike ceilings look out across the vastness of the universe. The clear material is magnified at various locations to give the skies a textured look which was especially brilliant at night. Its walls were pristine white with nary a smudge anywhere, with oversize hexagonal rotating windows. Various shaped tables scattered about the dining area gave the room a random feel that borders on chaotic. The service is anything but chaotic and is the gold standard of restaurant service. The moment Cosmo walked in he was greeted by an android host. Sleek and shiny features his face was not round or oval like most beings but an almost triangular shape but with much softer edges. It’s body was cylindrical and it hovered ever so slightly off the floor and moved with grace and precision. “Welcome Mr. Cosmo. I am Valarian your host. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Your table is ready. Your guest will arrive shortly as he has jut left the aquarium. Would you care for a Meademosa?“ It baffled Cosmo how these androids could know who everyone was, who they were with, and could tell with pinpoint accuracy where they’re guest are at any given time. He answered as he followed the android to a table. ”Yes indeed I would love a Meademosa.” Meademos is a traditional brunch drink made with honey Meade, citronium nectar, and sparkling Nitrogena (a 180 proof alcohol made from nitrogen). Often served with a frozen argon cube it is conssidered the tastiest morning beverage in the entire multi-verse. Besides, it was also the hair of the cyber canine that gnawed at the inside of ones head so a perfect distraction for the effects of a hangover. Cosmo sat down at his table. The table top, in the shape of a rhombus looked like a flowing river yet whatever was put on top of it sat motionless. His chair was actually in a parallel universe so it could not be seen giving the impression that all guests were sitting on air. It was extremely comfortable and it fit to ones body perfectly. Here in the District physic aren’t a law but more of a suggestion. After less than 20 seconds a hologram arrived with his Meademosa. “Good morning Mr. Cosmo, hope you are enjoying your stay in District seven.” Cosmo loved the efficiency of the hologram service. “Yes thank you, I have been having a wonderful time, but to be honest I can’t wait to get back to my own galaxy.” Holograms rarely engage in small talk and this morning was no exception. “I will return with your beverage and a menu.” Your guest is arriving in ten seconds. Poof she was gone. Great Draconius things appear and disappear so rapidly in the District.

The Second Part of the Journey

                     

                         The Insidious adventures of JT Hilltop

 

                          (Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come)

 

                  

                                                              

              It was my first day in my new digs, a guest suite in the local detention center of Aiken County South Carolina. I remembered having detention in high school, a form of punishment for any of a variety of mischievous infractions.  This however, was quite a different detention.  I was given my very own guest room totally unadorned.  I suppose you could say it was decorated in minimalist style, complete with four bare walls, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a pamphlet thin mattress on a wooden platform with a polyester sheet and Government issue wool blanket, and…..well actually, that was it.  My new living arrangements for the next thirty days.  So here I am, this young suave New Yorker, locked up somewhere in the deep south where I feared I may never be heard from again.  The pace in this city, I think I heard it called Grandmaville, or Grannyville or some shit was anything but urgent.  Great, I thought to myself, here I am in Petticoat fucking Junction.  Theres Uncle Joe he’s a movin’ kinda slow! “Yikes,” I thought, “Not a familiar face anywhere and not a single person left to turn to.” Thirty days in this hell hole with no beer, no weed, not even a fucking TV to help pass the time.  Just me, myself and….and  a band of hillbilly cops.  Actually, I wasn’t completely alone. 

    Along with yours truly, and against their wills as well were five “block” mates each sizing me up. I could tell they were wondering what skyscraper it was that I  crawled out from under.  I was certain I detected a mix of  urban admiration and good ole boy Yankee hatred.  Instinctively I understood the importance of establishing the “upper hand”. I had heard some of the other….ah “Inn” mates call the guards by the term “turn-key”.  So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very  moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive.  “Ay Oh, Turn-key”.  I need to make a phone call.”  I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of distain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal. An awkward silence befell the cellblock, as a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare, I almost felt jealous.   I’m from New York, where sarcasm is a second language and he had just read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach, or if I should rethink my options. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed  “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”  The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible, and just stared at me a moment. I could feel his smoky foul breath dancing across my cheeks and I felt the lashes of his eyes as they blinked. Little hard eye hairs that could successfully brush a longhaired afghan hound.  I had a sudden and humbling movie memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” Before my ‘Deliverance’, I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia.  Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy.  You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago.  You have spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar.  You have faced off with New York City detectives. (not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less.  Well maybe stood up was not the right term)  I  gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was  back in charge again.  Apparently, none of this mattered to sergeant Komodo dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in the movie. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired New Yoke piece o’ shit?”  I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming distain in his voice.  But alas it was too late, the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now, the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator.  And the fan was humming!  The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence began to burn loud in my ears.  Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck do you think your dealing with” kind of grin broke out on his upper lip and quickly spread across his jaw until it took over his entire face. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating Cheshire smile and I can sense that it is a smile with some very serious implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions with my captor, while not losing face with my new room mates.  But let me back up a bit and explain how I even got here in the first place.

The Second Part of the Journey

The Insidious adventures of JT Hilltop

(Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come)

It was my first day in my new digs, a guest suite in the local detention center of Aiken County South Carolina. I remembered having detention in high school, a form of punishment for any of a variety of mischievous infractions. This however, was quite a different detention. I was given my very own guest room totally unadorned. I suppose you could say it was decorated in minimalist style, complete with four bare walls, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a pamphlet thin mattress on a wooden platform with a polyester sheet and Government issue wool blanket, and…..well actually, that was it. My new living arrangements for the next thirty days. So here I am, this young suave New Yorker, locked up somewhere in the deep south where I feared I may never be heard from again. The pace in this city, I think I heard it called Grandmaville, or Grannyville or some shit was anything but urgent. Great, I thought to myself, here I am in Petticoat fucking Junction. Theres Uncle Joe he’s a movin’ kinda slow! “Yikes,” I thought, “Not a familiar face anywhere and not a single person left to turn to.” Thirty days in this hell hole with no beer, no weed, not even a fucking TV to help pass the time. Just me, myself and….and a band of hillbilly cops. Actually, I wasn’t completely alone.
Along with yours truly, and against their wills as well were five “block” mates each sizing me up. I could tell they were wondering what skyscraper it was that I crawled out from under. I was certain I detected a mix of urban admiration and good ole boy Yankee hatred. Instinctively I understood the importance of establishing the “upper hand”. I had heard some of the other….ah “Inn” mates call the guards by the term “turn-key”. So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive. “Ay Oh, Turn-key”. I need to make a phone call.” I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of distain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal. An awkward silence befell the cellblock, as a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare, I almost felt jealous. I’m from New York, where sarcasm is a second language and he had just read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach, or if I should rethink my options. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed “What we have here is a failure to communicate.” The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible, and just stared at me a moment. I could feel his smoky foul breath dancing across my cheeks and I felt the lashes of his eyes as they blinked. Little hard eye hairs that could successfully brush a longhaired afghan hound. I had a sudden and humbling movie memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” Before my ‘Deliverance’, I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia. Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy. You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago. You have spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar. You have faced off with New York City detectives. (not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less. Well maybe stood up was not the right term) I gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was back in charge again. Apparently, none of this mattered to sergeant Komodo dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in the movie. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired New Yoke piece o’ shit?” I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming distain in his voice. But alas it was too late, the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now, the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator. And the fan was humming! The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence began to burn loud in my ears. Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck do you think your dealing with” kind of grin broke out on his upper lip and quickly spread across his jaw until it took over his entire face. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating Cheshire smile and I can sense that it is a smile with some very serious implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions with my captor, while not losing face with my new room mates. But let me back up a bit and explain how I even got here in the first place.

The Farm Parable

Nightmare on Main Street
JT Hilltop

Somewhere in Kansas there was five farms of equal size, with equal crop output. Farmer’s ABCD and E. They were all family owned and operated farms an all enjoyed a happy and fruitful life. They worked hard all day and always had food on the table, clothes on their backs, small luxuries for entertainments, and found extra money for some of the modern appliances for a growing culture. They each sold all their crops at fair prices because the competition kept them honest. For three generations all five families thrived. But on the fourth generation, farmer A had a son that didn’t want to work so hard in fields and he forged a plan. He went to Farmer B with a proposition. He told farmer B that if they could put the two farms together, and call it Farm AB, they could tend to the fields with less farmhands and save them both money. Eventually we could have others working the fields and we would have more crops and more money. Of course this appealed to farmer B so no need to give it any thought. A partnership was born.
Over the next year, the two farms combined land and were able to increase the crop output. Not only that, they were able to let go of two farmhands each as the chores got shared. But farmer A’s son was still not satisfied. He had another plan in mind. He went back to farmer B and said to him, “You know, if we could sell our crops a little cheaper we could sell to farmer C’s buyer and not have to take the extra crops so far. Once we have him as a buyer we can raise the prices back up again.” This time farmer B wasn’t as enthusiastic but farmer A’s son was very convincing and he finally relented. They lowered their prices and as he predicted they sold their crops to farmer C’s buyer. Of course as a result, farmer C ha to travel much further to sell his crops and it became much too costly. Farmer C was struggling something awful, and he had to let 2 farmhands go and double up on his own work. After two seasons, farmer C was feeling weak and tired and the family was struggling to get by.
Now farmer A’s son sensed another opportunity so he went to farmer C an offered to pay off all his debts, and relieve him of all his problems by purchasing his farm. Farmer C was becoming frail and his family was not eating as well as they once had, but the farm was all he had and it had been in the family as long as he could remember. Farmer A’s son had already prepared for this problem and he had a solution. “Look farmer C, you can keep your house, and we will hire you in our much bigger farm. You will have a sure income for your family, a place to live, and you will never have to work as hard a you do now ever again.” Farmer C relented, and soon there were only three farms, farm AB, farm D and farm E
Now farmers D and E could see what was going on. They got together an agreed that neither would ever sell the farm, and if they both stayed strong they would always have their own farms and not become part of farm AB. No matter how farmer A’s son tried, he could not break either farm. He gave them both substantial offers to buy them out, he sold his crops at lower prices, he offered their workers jobs which many took, causing hardships on both farms. He’d offer them higher pay, an after a few months laid them off, leaving the farmhands out of work and farms D and E overworked and tired. But as agreed, both farmers held strong and waited out the bad times. Farmer A’s son was producing more crops than ever, and was doing it with less farmhands because the three farms combined could be run more efficiently and less farmhands were needed. The town was now becoming filled with out of work farmhands who were becoming more and more desperate as time went by. Crime rate in town began to grow out of control as morale of the townspeople plummeted. As a result taxes went up as the need for a larger police force became immanent.
Farmer B was beginning to regret his decision as he saw his one time friends having a harder and harder time of it. He saw how they were struggling and he saw farmer C become nothing more than a farmhand himself. A dejected and frail farmer doing his best to keep his family together, as hi children moved out one by one to find a better life. He now began to see farmer A’s son for what he was. A greedy and underhanded viper that could care less about anyone else. Had he made a pact with the devil? Farmer B was sure farmer A’s son would run him out of town at first chance.
The prophecy didn’t take long. With Farmers D an E holding firm and keeping up the pressure, Farmer A’s son began to recruit some of the foreman on the farm. Offering the promise of a raise they agreed to help force farmer B out of the picture by making his efforts seem unworthy. They sabotaged his part of the farm and let everything look bad for farmer B. Having hired a good lawyer who set up a nefarious contract agreement Farmer B soon lost all his rights in the companies decisions. Now farm AB was essentially run by farmer A’s son and farmer B had become just like farmer C, nothing more than a farmhand on his own farm.
Farmers D an E continued working hard and remained resolute in their promise to each other not to cave in to farmer A’s sons antics. He used his under pricing games forcing them to travel twice as far to sell their crops, he lured away the best and hardest workers from the farms with better pay, and he hired local out of work thugs to destroy portions of their crops. He did everything else in his power to make the remaining farms struggle as much as possible. Farmers D and E remained strong until one fateful day. While out in his field, farmer E experienced a heart attack. Not having any emergency services nearby he died before he ever got to the hospital. Farmer D of course did all he could to help his friends wife and family. Most of the town viewed this as a horrible tragedy. Framer A’s son however viewed it as an opportunity. He put pressure on farmer E’s wife and two very young sons to sell their farm. Unable to maintain the farm the recent widow collapsed under her grief and sold off the family farm. Now Farmer A’s son had Farm AB, which include the land and all the crops of farms A, B, C, and E. Farmer D worked his field hard and struggled but no matter how bad it got farmer A’s son never gave him a second glance. No offer to buy out, no tricks to force him out of business, farmer A’s son merely concentrated on maximizing his own profits and minimizing his costs by laying off more workers and purchasing in bulk. He knew it would only be a matter of time and he could get the farm for a song.
His big chance came the next season. An unusually hot and dry season created tremendous hardship for the farms. Nearing a major drought farmer A’s son shipped in truckloads of water to irrigate his crops but farmer D could not afford to have water shipped. Reluctantly, with his entire crop in danger, he went to farmer A’s son to ask him if he could purchase some of the water an pay him for shipping after his crops are harvested and he had the cash. Farmer A’s son seized his opportunity. “I will not sell you any water, but here’s what I will do. I will give you an offer to purchase your farm from you.” Farmer D had no intention of selling and the offer was actually insulting. Half what the farm was worth and barely enough money for him to move his family away. He refused the offer an headed back to his farm.
Unable to grow anything, the farmhands began getting nervous and started looking for work elsewhere. Many left the state and headed west to look for work. Farmer D could only watch as his family farm as it literally deteriorated into the ground. The banks were unwilling to lend him anymore money and expressed concerns of the loan he already had. At the end of the season, the farm did not yield a single crop, and the bank came to foreclose his farm. Broke, tired, and dejected farmer D felt he had two choices. Either he could take his own life, or he could join the farmhands that had left town and go in search of work. He chose to live because of his family, so they packed up and headed west. But there was one person who did decide to end his own life. Farmer B was so distraught watching what happened to his one time friends and neighbors families and despised himself for his role in their demise so vehemently that he hung himself in one of the many barns.
Now farmer A’s son owned farms ABC and E outright and was able to purchase farm D from the bank for even less than his original offer. Farms ABCD and E, were now Amalgamated Farms of Kansas. Farmer A’s son had achieved the modern American dream, to become the riches person in town. He had trampled over many people to get there, but they are insignificant pawns that needed to be played to in order to achieve the goal. The victory tasted very good to farmer A’ son. So good in fact that he felt it would be possible to either find farms with different crops an do the same thing there, or maybe find something other than farming he could manipulate and take over ownership of. He wanted it all, more and more and more. He could not get enough possessions to satisfy his unyielding greed. Maybe farm tool stores. He could build large farm tool stores and sell tools cheaper than the smaller ones. Maybe sell lumber an other farm needs as well, putting other small companies out of business. The possibilities seemed endless.
Farmer A’s son was very astute and he soon realized if he could own influential people in town he could more easily manipulate the markets in his favor. He backed the right politicians and showered them with monetary support, and created relationships forged in greed with the biggest bankers. It wasn’t long before farmer A’s son owned and ran over half of the businesses in the area. You may say he has achieved the American Dream, but to me it seems as though he has created the American Nightmare. Sleep well!
Peace