Friday, September 01, 2006


Once again, Friday has come around, bringing with it the promise of a Glorious Weekend that includes a Monday holiday. Can you say “Three-Day Loaf-Fest”? [By Loaf-Fest, I refer to the act of loafing, i.e., being supremely lazy. Only those that know me all too well the filthiest minds among us would assume that I am talking about a three-day orgy of defecation...]

In the United States, nobody seems to find it ironic that the contributions of the Labor Movement to our country are commemmorated by setting aside a day on which we refrain from labor. Meh.

Yes, it will be three days of indolence, marking the semi-official end to the summer season. Never mind that summer still has about three weeks to run by the astromomers’ calculations, and that the weather in Georgia will not be cooling off any time soon.

This weekend is a mere prelude to next weekend’s complete and utter debauch Southeast Writers’ Conference, an opportunity to drink oneself silly meet new faces in the community of Online Journalists and renew acquaintances with familiar ones. And half the fun is seeing what accoutrements of destruction the participants will bring. Sixteen-foot bullwhips, cymbal-clanging monkeys, Blown Rectum Spidum lavalières (if you don’t know, mebbe you don’t wanna ask), and a variety and quantity of Adult Beverages that you won’t see in many places outside of Harry’s Bar.

But that is then, and this is now. It’s time to check out Elisson’s Little White Choon-Box to see what Random Assortment of Moozik it has come up with this week:
  1. Women We Haven’t Met - Minus The Bear
  2. Incognito - The Judybats
  3. I Don’t Want To Spoil The Party - The Beatles
  4. Yellow Submarine - The Beatles
  5. Harlem Swing - Django Reinhardt
  6. The Last Laugh (featuring Van Morrison) - Mark Knopfler
  7. Ain’t No Woman Like The One I’ve Got - The Four Tops
  8. Daylight - The Judybats
  9. Boxing - Ben Folds Five
  10. John Barleycorn - Traffic

    There were three men came out of the west
    Their fortunes for to try,
    And these three men made a solemn vow
    John Barleycorn must die.

    They’ve ploughed, they’ve sown, they’ve harrowed him in
    Threw clods upon his head,
    And these three men made a solemn vow
    John Barleycorn was dead.

    They let him lie for a very long time
    Till the rains from Heaven did fall,
    And little Sir John sprung up his head
    And so amazed them all.

    They’ve let him stand till Midsummer’s day,
    Till he looked both pale and wan.
    And little Sir John’s grown a long, long beard
    And so become a man.

    They’ve hired men with the scythes so sharp,
    To cut him off at the knee,
    They’ve rolled him and tied him by the waist,
    Serving him most barbarously.

    They’ve hired men with the sharp pitchforks,
    Who pricked him through the heart
    And the loader, he has served him worse than that,
    For he’s bound him to the cart.

    They’ve wheeled him around and around a field,
    Till they came unto a barn,
    And there they made a solemn oath
    On poor John Barleycorn.

    They’ve hired men with the crab-tree sticks,
    To cut him skin from bone,
    And the miller, he has served him worse than that,
    For he’s ground him between two stones.

    And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl
    And his brandy in the glass
    And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl
    Proved the strongest man at last.

    The huntsman, he can’t hunt the fox
    Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
    And the tinker, he can’t mend kettle nor pots
    without a little barley corn.
It’s Friday. What are you listening to?

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