Hey, Rube, don't make it bad
Take a bad stand and make it better
Remember to let me into your heart
Then I can start to make it better
Hey, Rube, don't be afraid
You were wrong to go out and vet her
The minute you voted cause of skin
Then you begin to make it better.
And any time you feel the pain, hey, Rube, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders
Well don't you know that its a fool who can’t be cool
By voting like a third worlder
Hey, Rube! Don't let me down
You have found me, now go and make it better
Remember, to let me into your heart
Then you can start to make it wetter.
So let me in and let me out, hey, Rube, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know that it isn’t just you, hey, Rude,
You'll do, the movement in your twat just makes you bolder.
Hey, Rube, don't make it bad
Take a sad stand and make it better
Remember to let me into your heart
Then you can start to make it better, better,better.....
La Lalala La, Hey Rube
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
27 comments:
Hey, I take a back seat to no one when it comes to love of song parodies but just who the hell is Rube/Rude? Dude.
Sorry about that, fixed it. You can never depend on Spell check cause they will fix it but change the word throughout the post.
I once spelled a guys name wrong on a tax return when we first started doing them on the computer where you only put it in once and it went everywhere on the fifty page return. The client comes in screaming "You fucking moron, you spelled my name wrong ...on every page!"
La la [la la la] ...
... Means I Love You
(Actually, in this instance, the arrangement used and performed by Todd Rundgren would work better, but I couldn't find that.)
That is the lead off song when I play my old school soul play list on a Saturday morning when I open the store. Along with Rev. Al Green, the Stylistics, the Chilites, Bill Withers, James Brown, Smokey and Marvin. Just smooth baby, just smooth.
Are you still at work, btw? Long day, if so, no?
Okay, so I finally got around to reading the whole back and forth between Althouse and Instapundit. Now I get it.
Well I open at 10 in the morning to give the wife a break. I also take care of the routine maintenance like changing light blubs in the track lights in between selling underwear. Then I go back to my office to pay bills and check invoices. We stay open until 9pm to catch the people on the way to dinner. Your basic 12 to 14 hour day. That's why I take a break to blog in between. It keeps me sane because I can't keep giving opinions as to how stuff looks. I also have to not notice if I am behind the counter because some girls don't want my opinion. Some insist on it and even have me called out of the back room. They say "If I was wearing this...would you buy me a drink?" That's the acid test.
Anyway I have the odd moments to kill when I am in the store so it is great to pop on and blog. Cool.
Meade, I always said you were slow but thorough.
Well, I always said you were slow.
It's a 12 to 14 hour day because we never get out at exactly 9pm. There is always one last customer or something. Plus the maid doesn't come on Sunday so I get to be the maid. Usually there is a line outside on a Sunday morning and I am always busy. After church I make the wife breakfast and then go and open up. So I like to mop up and clean the night before because if I don't there will be a mad rush on Sunday morning. Luckily my friend at Casa Rosa keeps the kitchen open until I am ready to go home and we can eat or at least get take out. Yesterday we finished at 11pm and didn't eat until after midnight.
Fashion is very glamerous.
Especially the mopping the fucking floor part.
That's the first thing ladies notice - is the floor clean.
Not in my case.
(And don't even THINK of retorting with the obvious ... .
; ) )
Obvious to everyone but slow as molasses me. As usual.
Reader, so what is the first thing you notice? And don't say Trooper. Of course you'd notice Trooper. But after you give the big lug the once or twice over, you check out the floors. Admit it.
The obvious: "Yeah, but you ain't no lady."
First thing: The help.
Or maybe the smell.
One of those two. Sometimes they're unrelated, and sometimes not.
Also, how the product is hung.
No, not THAT product.
The stuff that's actually for sale. That you can take home and wear, or whatever.
Anyone gives my child a candy toothbrush, I'm gonna kill 'em!
Oops. Wrong thread.
If I've said it real slow once, I've said it real slow twice: I never understand what the hell reader im is talking about but ooh, baby, it comes out just as sweet, smooth and sticky as pudding.
Made with high fructose corn syrup.
Organic.
No artificial flavorings.
Or evil dyes that could make aperson ADHD.
First of all my help doesn't smell. Or at least smell bad.
And they are not hung.
They are all girls you see.
a / person.
(sheesh.)
Meade: I'm live-blogging a Food Network special on candy here on Troop's blog, among whatever else I'm doing. All the candies referenced here have been mentioned, and in the appropriate live-blogging order. I'm not making them up,*** though it's true I may also be making other points along the way.
(****With the exception of my suggestion for mints based on that Animal House scene.)
Meade: Thanks (I think).
In any case, it could be worse. I could be your wife! Or mother.
Or should that be: "In any case, it could be worse. I could be your mother! Or wife."?
There could be a difference, I recognize that. Or not.
OK, now I have to make a phone call.
Oh, crud, before I do that I just have to share: Richard Daley, mayor of Chicago, just weighed in. And what he said, of course, in effect, is that he's a pol [from Chicago] and therefore he can't weigh in specifically.
Just a few beats later--though, admittedly, in the interest of accuracy and precision, in a cutaway--the host says something like, "In the end, it's all about the deal."
Well, day-um.
Can you say "synchronicity"?
OK, now I really DO need to go make that phone call.
Hellloooo. Dominos. This is reader iam at 1313 Mocking Bird Lane. Can you send over three Brooklyn Style pizza's. And those cheesy things. And stop at the package store and pick up something for me. Don't worry it's paid for. And remember, you only have half and hour.
Cheerio[s]!
1313 Mockingbird Lane.
(And Richard Daley really did appear at the end of that Food Network Show, and it basically did go as I described it. Also, I cooked tonight; no need for takeout or delivery.)
; )
Sorry to drop my end of the conversation last night. I had a hot date (oo la la!) and couldn't be late to pick her up in my '88... station wagon. Lucky for me she's the sort of girl who cares less about what kind of car I drive and more about whether or not I can make her laugh every now and then. I can see I'm going to have to man on up a bit more if she's going to say yes to a second date: she mows her own lawn and does her own tune-ups on her Harley. She's cute - somewhere between a Laura and a Sally - and as I might have mentioned, she likes to laugh out loud (but not so loud as to scare anyone).
Anyway, to answer your question in earnest, reader_iam (if I may be earnest here for a moment without making host Trooper puke): I mess with you because I like you and the 30% of your comments that I do get I think are often brilliant. My spider senses tell me whoever gets to call you mother or wife would be some pretty darn lucky guys. And I don't just bolden those words for any old Laura or Sally.
Post a Comment