Tale of Two Seasons

So… Holiday Season, Huh?

I borrowed from the local library that timeless Holiday treat, the Ken Burns Documentary, Baseball.

Shoot me – Christmas is not my favorite season.

It being early December, I found the two themes merging - especially as Burn’s depiction of the steroid scandals produced visions of sugar-pills dancing in my head.

Deck the Arms with THG

by Headley Hauser

Tis the season to hit homers

falalalala lala la la

Be a star and not a roamer

falalalala lala la la

Practice hard and toil and lug more

falalalala lala la la

Of send your agent to the drug store

falalalala lala la la

Deck your arms with THG

falalalala lala la la

Hit thirty homers instead of three

falalalala lala la la

Erasing marks from by-gone ages

falalalala lala la la

Clubhouse full of steroid rages

falalalala lala la la

 

We are now the mighty gloved ones

falalalala lala la la

Who cares if we beat our loved ones

falalalala lala la la

Some complain about our stat-ploy

falalalala lala la la

Wouldn’t want to be the bat boy

falalalala lala la la

Let’s be fair, PADs (performance affecting drugs) are as American as marijuana brownies, and a constant part of baseball tradition. Dwight Gooden (and the 86 Mets)

couldn’t have beaten my beloved Red Sox without their white powder. Until recent decades, chewing tobacco was practically issued to every ballplayer, not only to calm their nerves at the plate, but to give spitballs that little something extra. Booze was such an important part of the game that several teams were owned by beer barons. Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle got so wasted that they weren’t even hung over until the 7^th inning stretch.

So let’s stop being so hypocritical and embrace our chemically pumped heroes of the last generation. Heck, put a statue of Balco in the Hall of Fame.

We wish you a Merry Andro

We wish you a Merry Andro

We wish you a Merry Andro

And a bottle of clear

You’ll play like a dream

Long as you use the cream

We wish you a Merry Andro

And a bottle of clear.

As far as Christmas is concerned – you think a few ho-ho-hos enable “eight tiny reindeer” to push a fat man and several billion toys around the earth in less than 24 hours?

 

Vaguely related video

The Holiday with an Inferiority Complex

Thanksgiving has completely surrendered to that 800 pound gorilla of a holiday that shows up a month later. Let’s face it; Halloween is barely holding its own. This year, Black Friday starts on Thursday because retailers believe (with probably some justification,) that the longer the spending season goes, the more likely you are to feel that a sweater, a pair of socks, and a Whitman’s sampler is just not enough for Aunt Hortensia, and you’ll need to get her a pair of diamond earrings as well.

Part of the problem is the saturation of the airways and Muzak torture devices with ubiquitous Christmas music. I’m only aware of one Thanksgiving song, We Gather Together. It’s a hymn which means it’s practically illegal to play it in any secular setting.

I figure I should do something about it. I decided to put secular words to the hymn.

There was the fear of lightning from above for desecrating a holy tune, but Go Figure Reads author (and liturgical egghead) Stanley McFarland assures me that Martin Luther used a drinking song tune for A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.

Turn-about is fair play. (Whatever that means.)

This Thursday We Gather

a Thanksgiving song by Headley Hauser

This Thursday we gather

To watch people marching

Seen before, it’s a bore

But a comfortable one

We watch flying Snoopy

And commentators, loopy

Tradition says we watch

And pretend that it’s fun

This Thursday we gather

To eat the big turkey

We’ll baste it, then taste it

Then break the wish bone

Unless you’re not bluffing

‘Bout oysters in the stuffing

‘Cause then, I’d rather eat

A ham sandwich – alone

This Thursday we gather

To watch some bad football

Though Romo can’t throw no

Better than Grandma Nan

And while we’d much rather

Not hear all Boomer’s blather

We’re captives in our seats

Frozen by tryptophan

This Friday we’ll gather

To fight other shoppers

Once grateful, now hateful

We tear up the mall

With all of our grabbing

Our carping and our crabbing

We’re buying peace on earth

And frickin’ good will to all

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good nap!

Cute Enough to Make You Choke

Just to show you folk out there that I'm not the curmudgeon some people say I am, I'm doing a post of cute. So get those ohs and awes ready, cause here comes a whole crapload of cute.

This has got to be a top candidate for picture of the year. For you nonfootball fans who don't recognize the impersonation – don't worry about it. Just think, Baby=cute. But enough of the human species. For true footpounds of cute – you gotta go with the animals.

Do elephants like hats? If not, this guy better worry, because this little guy is going to get a lot bigger, and elephants never forget.

I guess this cat is cute, but I'm not thrilled that he has better facial hair than I do.

I'm not surprised the multi-colored looks confused. The gray tabby is clearly cheating.

Mother cats are supposed to be cute, right? I mean that's what I've been told.

Here's a bobcat with a deer. This is my last feline, 'cause even though I know people say how cute they are, I know this cat is just holding onto the deer in case he gets hungry.

Here's another deer with a dog this time. I'm beginning to think that deer are cute because they're not that bright.

Here's a canine that's a little confused. He knows he's supposed to run down prey, but what comes next is still a muddle.

Alright, I have no explanation for this one.

For my money, dogs are the second cutest creatures going. The cutest have to be rabbits. I think this picture sums up my argument.

Yeah, you can't out-cute rabbits.

Our video is full of bunnies and just needlessly cute – so much that I wish I hadn't eaten so much at lunch.

Little Loose Glute

So I’m watching football with my friend Cral. The pizza I scored from the delivery guy is especially good (thank goodness for screwed up orders.  No - I'm not admitting calling it in.) The TV is showing a replay over and over of a big guy flopping over the back line of the end zone catching a pass. The question is – did his backside land inbounds before his elbow hit out of bounds. The cameras are zooming in of this guy’s wavering butt, and Cral sings out “little loose glute,” to the tune of the Beach Boy’s Little Deuce Coup.

After I’d taken the pizza and Cral’s Calvin and Hobbes collection hostage, Cral graciously allowed me to use the idea in this post. (Thanks Cral!)

Little Loose Glute

by Roger Christian, Brian Wilson, Headley Hauser (and Cral.)

Tired of the hazing working out with the jerks

So I got myself a girdle tight as Captain Jim Kirk’s

It’s a specialty model looking trim, looking tone

Even comes with six pack made of hard Styrofoam

But will my little loose glute

Show the world what I got?

Stupid little loose glute

Show the world what I got?

 

Head off to the treadmill, gonna run for a mile

See blonde-headed babe and I flash her a smile

Don’t bother with the warm up, I just slam it in gear

Then I thought I caught a laugh falling on my ear

Is it my little loose glute

Shows the world what I got

Flappin’ little loose glute

Shows the world what I got

 

I’m at the free weights for a couple of reps

The girdle pulls fat up to pump up my pecs

I grab a pair of twenties for a couple of curls

Sure my silhouette will impress all the girls

But then my little loose glute

Shows the world what I got

Sweating little loose glute

Shows the world what I got

Later on the bike, and I think I look neat

Till a hottie asks me what is hanging over my seat.

I look down at my shorts – I should have known

That which pulls fat up will also push down

I wear a towel home from waist to knee joint

But no one is fooled, jerks are starting to point

I want to toss the girdle then I stop and recant

This must be the reason they invented sweat pants

‘Cause then my little loose glute

Won’t show what I got

(In pants) a little loose glute

Won’t show what I got.

As I’m giving Cral credit (I don’t want to do that in more than one post,) I might as well post the video he sent me. (Yes, Cral – it’s a good video. Thank you very much, Cral. Yes, you can have your Calvin and Hobbes back.)

Gandhi Song - Multiple Rip-Off Blog Post

The song below is absolutely my work. It’s true that the facts in the post were inspired (researched… stolen) from the life of Mahatma Gandhi. It’s true that the tune of the song is inspired (borrowed… stolen) from the Disney (evil amalgamation of bloodsucking lawyers without a hint of the creativity of its founder) Corp movie, Mary Poppins. It’s true the concept of the lyric is inspired (taken… stolen) from a joke that made the rounds in the early days of the internet.

But this song is all mine!

The Gandhi Song

by Headley Hauser (except the tune, concept or details)

Now I will walk without my shoes on dirt or rock or sand

And I have walked so many miles across this Indian land

Now you may think I'm 5'4" but I'm not quite 5'3"

For and inch of callus underfoot just makes a taller me.

Chorus

I'm a super calloused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis

You may think my feet are bad, but my breath, it is the grossest

Some people, they may say I'm great, I really hate to boastest

I'm just, super callused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis.

Hum diddle iddle dum diddle eye

You eat a little bit more than I

Last night I had a spoon of mush and in it was a gnat

My heart was filled with such distress that out that gnat I spat

Don’t know what people see in food, it makes me really blue

I think I'll go without it for at least a week or two

Repeat Chorus

The party gave a rally and it's me they want to hear

I just had some onion juice cause I won't drink the beer

Still no one heard a word I said, cause when it came my turn

From out my mouth there came a blast to make Nehru’s jacket burn

Repeat Chorus (followed by)

I'm a super callused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis

Sikhs and Muslims are OK but to Buddha I'm am closest

More peaceful than that Mao Tse Tung,

less fiery than Moses

I'm that super callused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis

Last post I had Tom Lehrer's Elements Song.  Here's more from him. 

Poetry Playhouse

Poets to the Rescue

a play by Headley Hauser

Scene One

(Knock on door)

Woman: Is it the plumber?

Poet 1: No

Woman: The electrician?

Poet 1: No

Woman: Martha Stewart?

Poet 1: No Ma’am, it’s the poets. Let us in please.

(Woman opens door and three poets in work clothes and tool belts enter. The room is trashed. Bad art hangs on the wall. Three Children stare off into space.)

Narrator: When disaster strikes - call the poets!

Poet 1: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. And being one traveler, long I…

Poet 2: I think that I will never see, a billboard lovely as…

Poet 3: There once was a man from Nantucket…

Narrator: Our competent staff of experienced professionals is ready for any emergency be it personal -

Poet 1: I rise…

Narrator: Family-related -

Poet 2: (to the children) Not in a box, not with a fox, not in a house, not with a mouse. I would not like them here or there…

Narrator: Or commercial -

Poet 3: If you think it’s butter, but it’s not…

Narrator: For a limited time only, with every poet visit, get free cliché-guard.

Child 1: Sticks and stones may gaaaachhhk!

Man 1: A man’s home is his bllluuuubghhhh

Woman 2: You know what Mom always said, yulieicht!

Man 2: (woman 1 is on phone and hears:) The check is in heiyayuriap!

Narrator: The poets will stay with you until the problem is solved - or you’re out of munchies.

Scene Two

(The place is neater and more tasteful. The children look awake and alert, though the youngest is smoking a pipe.)

Poet 1: Sorry about the pipe, that happens sometimes.

Woman 1: I don’t mind at all! Doesn’t little Nestor look distinguished!

Narrator: You’ll be very pleased with the results.

Woman 1: Thank you poets!

The End

Thanks to Facebook Friend, JA, for this song by one of my favorite musical poets: Tom Lehrer.