Uncle Bardie’s Second Blogoversary

I want to thank all the followers and readers of this blog. You are the reason I continue to dance the light fantastic. You are indeed the cat’s pajamas. Thank you. Now for something special. Here’s how my day is going.

As the song says, we’ve come a long way, you and I. It’s been a long and winding road. It’s like we’ve almost made it across the universe. In the beginning, there were those who said, “Let it be”. There are still unbelievers who want me to get back. They are afraid someone is going to crucify me. I keep telling them that I have enough instant karma to make it through the night. Then I give them a high five and ask them to give peace a chance.

I gotta tell you that there are days I am like the Nowhere Man on Penny Lane, heading for Strawberry Fields. There are other days I feel like I am back in the USSR. Instead of getting a Dear John letter, somebody keeps sending me a Dear Prudence message, saying, “I want to hold your hand.” It always ends with “p.s. I love you.” I do want you to know that I work eight days a week, each day a hard day’s night to make this a good blog, one that is entertaining and fun.

I woke up this morning with good morning, good morning ringing in my head as the alarm keeps shouting, “It’s getting better. All the time.” ‘Bout that time, my next door neighbor knocks on my door and sings, “Yer having a birthday.” The phone rings and you’ll never guess who is on the line. Michelle, that’s who. Makes me long for yesterday. Guess it’s going to be just another day in the life.

Go into the kitchen and fix my usual breakfast: a big stack of lucy-in-the-sky-with-diamonds. Mmmmm, good. While I enjoy the stack, I think about what I am going to do for the benefit of Mr. Kite. After all, I know perfectly well he helped me when I was in need of a little help from my friends. I stack the dishes in the sink, look out the window, and you know what. I can’t believe it. Here comes the sun. It is going to be another good day sunshine.

I walk out to water my octopus’ garden in the shade. I am feeling pretty frisky. That Maxwell’s silver hammer banging in my head has gone away. I look across the road and see Polythene Pam. I want to say something to be neighborly. After all, her majesty’s a pretty nice girl, but she doesn’t have a lot to say. If I wasn’t dating Lovely Rita, maybe I would get up the nerve and ask her out. I hear she is something of a paperback writer.

I return to the inside of my house. There in the living room sits my mother, Julia. “Hey, Jude,” she says to me. She always calls me Jude.

“How did you get in here?”

“I came in through the bathroom window. You know you need to quit being such a fool on the hill.”

“Mom, you keep doing that and you know I am going to have to hire the Taxman.” I say that so she will realize she can’t buy me love.

“Why can’t we just come together?” she asks, giving me that Eleanor Rigby smile of hers.

“Look, I am not going to fake that revolution you keep asking for.”

“If you did,” she says, “you’d have to run for your life.”

“All things must pass,” I assure her.

“All you need is love,” she says.

“Well, baby, you’re a rich man too.”

“When I’m sixty-four, will you still love me?” she asks. Then that is that. The day tripper is out of there, making me dizzy Miss Lizzy. I yell after her, “Hello goodbye.”

I call Doctor Robert. He says, “Don’t bother me.”

“I dig it,” and I hang up.

So I go out and drive my car. Some guy almost swipes me. I yell, “Don’t pass me by.” I come upon some workers fixing a hole. I turn onto Blue Jay Way, looking for some help. Feeling helter skelter, I am wondering who is going to help me carry that weight. Feels like I am…here, there and everywhere.

I pull up to Lovely Rita’s front door and knock, my knock saying, “I got to get you into my life.” She opens the door and smiles. “Hello, little girl,” I say and give her a hug.

She pushes me away. “Honey, don’t.”

“I am the Walrus and I wanna be your man.”

“Well,” she says, “I’m happy just to dance with you.”

“You know you’re such a Lady Madonna. Why don’t you join me on my magical mystery tour?”

“I called you last night and I got no reply,” disappointment on her face.

“Aw c’mon, Sexy Sadie. You’re my honey pie. It’s something in the way you move.”

We go to this little out-of-the-way place called the Glass Onion. Maggie Mae, the waitress, comes by and takes our orders. I order an I-me-mine. They have the best anywhere around.Lovely Rita orders the one-after-909. We laugh. “Oh, darling,” she said, “you do love your I-me-mines, don’t you?”

“It reminds me of the day Mean Mr. Mustard left the neighborhood.”

“He thought he was a Mother Nature’s son, all those goats in his yard.”

The Savoy Truffle step to the stage and do their only hit, “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey”.

“You know,” she says, “I never really liked that song. It is long, long, long.”

” It’s only a northern song.”

We leave and continue the continuing story of Bungalow Bill. It’s like they say, “Happiness is a warm gun.” Well, obladi-oblada we are watching the yellow submarine at Pepperland. She leans over to my ear and whispers, “I guess we can work it out.”

At the end of the day, the last thing she says to me, “You’ve really got a hold on me.” That’s when I realize that I would not lose that girl.

It’s the end of another day and I’m so tired. So good night one and all. I’m off for some golden slumbers. If you see Rocky Racoon, tell him Uncle Bardie says hey.

The End.

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10 thoughts on “Uncle Bardie’s Second Blogoversary

  1. A recent FB post of mine, concerning recent NASA footage of the so-called ‘dark side’ of the moon rapidly deteriorated into a similar Pink Floyd song-title fest, but nowhere nearly as comprehensive as this.

    Dear Prudence sends her regards. She says to watch to watch out for a present that she’s sent you for your blogaversary. Its a very fragile glass onion, apparently

  2. Yeah, yeah, yeah! Oooh! Heard every song in my head as I read. Fun read, Don. I can only imagine what John would have said. Love, love, love…d it!

  3. Ironic that you didn’t use a Beatles song for the post song. Well, you’ve incorporated quite a bit but I’m still looking for the sequel….you know, the next day where you wake up, get out of bed and drag a comb across your head.

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