Post #999/God's Instrument

****EDIT: I'm leaving this up at least through tomorrow (Friday) night. Maybe longer, like Saturday or Sunday. I've received a couple nice submissions for post 1000, but now there's time if you want to send me a haiku about pork products, or maybe a series of knock knock jokes or a quote from your favorite epitaph.****

This is post #999.

As I wrote a few days ago, for post #1000 I'm soliciting your input. I'm hoping you, dear reader, will write my 1000th post. An anecdote, some philosophical musings, a list of the greatest flavors of Jello, whatever. And yes, if you'd like to write something about a post you enjoyed, or something you and I shared once upon a time, well that's cool. But this isn't my way of fishing for compliments. I'm full of myself as it is.

If you stop by this site, you probably have my email address, so email it to me. I'll leave this particular post up until at least Wednesday evening, maybe longer.

If this tanks, so be it. I'll post something about how it tanked.

***

I was enjoying a terrific live Charles Brown DVD this evening. The band was poppin', and I was really blown away by his piano playing.

"The piano is God's instrument," I said to the family in one of my typical over-the-top musical platitudes.

Wolfboy thought for a moment. "I thought God's instrument was the tuba."

We laughed. The tuba?

"I like that sound it makes. And the pooting sound," he said.

Who can argue?

***

When I was in elementary school we sang crazy songs, like "Don Gato" and "Sarasponda" (lyrics below).

Does anyone else know these songs? MOBB had never heard them. I love "Don Gato," man! I've never yet encountered anyone else who knows the song. And let me tell you, busting out with the jibberish that is "Sarasponda" is almost enough to get an involuntary psych evaluation:


"Sarasponda"

Sarasponda, sarasponda, sarasponda, ret, set, set. (repeat)
A-do-ray-oh! A-do-ray boomday-oh!
A-do-ray boomday ret, set, set,
Asay, pahsay, oh.

***

The Yankees exited the playoffs early. I... find this strangely arousing.

Torre? Gone, baby!

The Rocket? Gone, baby!

Brian Cashman? Probably gone, baby!

And I wish I could change the ringtone on my cellphone to a recording of George Steinbrenner attempting to say "Chien-Ming Wang."

***

Wolfboy asked me recently who the first-ever, oldest bad guy was. I told him George Steinbrenner.

***

Badoom! Thank you, be sure and tip your wait staff...

***

So Wolfboy has a newish Simpsons comic. I didn't buy it for him. Surprisingly, it's not wholly inappropriate for a kid of his age. I really only object to the use of the word "stupid" (twice), a beer reference, and a tacky joke about orphan babies.

So I tolerate it, and he loves it. Night after night he has me read it, and I do the voices where I can.

But tonight I didn't want to. I tried to get him to go for maybe World War Hulk. I grabbed issue #1 and opened it to a random page where Iron Man was fighting the Hulk. Wolfboy protested.

"Now wait, before we read the Simpsons, I just want to ask: See this? Didn't you think for just a minute that Iron Man might actually defeat the Hulk?"

"No," he answered without hesitating.

"Why not?"

"Because that's only the first issue," he said. "You told me there were five."

I paused. "So you mean that you knew the Hulk wouldn't lose in the first issue because they needed more story to tell in the comics after that?"

Yup.

That kid amazes me sometimes.

***

That's it, ya'll. Have a good evening.