Theme Song

If yours truly had a theme song, this would be it. It should be sung to the tune of Jimmy Dean’s “Big John.”

1.He was a heck of a man
With a slight slight tan
Six foot none
And his hair was gone.
He was Don, Big Don,
Big Tall Don.

2.He wore a hat
To the right it tipped
And dark glasses too
So he wouldn’t catch flu.
He was Don, Big Don,
Big Tall Don.

3.He was a library clerk
And he loved to work
He came in at noon
Sometimes a little too soon.
He was Don, Big Don,
Big Tall Don.

4.He arrived at work one Monday day
Everything was thrown every which-a-way
He looked from side to side and all around
There wasn’t a clerk anywhere to be found
He heard a noise from a way far-off
A still small voice with an obvious cough
He went to the cabinet sitting in front
He pulled out a drawer and began his hunt.
He was Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

5.The voice he’d heard it was down in there
Where it was he couldn’t be sure
He reached on in and pulled himself through
The hole in the drawer fit like a shoe
He followed that sound deep deep down
Through the caverns and caves he followed that sound
When after a heck of a whole lotta feet
He found himself just about to retreat.
He was Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

6.The hole got smaller but the sound grew louder
So on he plunged and the tunnel got tighter
While up above the librarians stood
And listened the best that they could
For the Yodeling Don and the lost clerks
Trapped deep down in the depths of the earth
He kept on moving and moving on he went
Creeping and crawling through every little vent.
He was Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

7.Until upon a group he finally came
All stuck under a pile of books and magazines
Well he digged and he dugged and he digged real fast
The air in that tunnel surely wouldn’t last
He pushed and he pulled and he got a clerk out
Sent her above as the librarians gave him a shout
There were ten, twenty, thirty clerks or more
And pulling them out was like mining for ore.
He was Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

8.But out they did come one by one
And the books they fell ton by ton
Barely missing clerk by clerk until
There was only one clerk left to kill
Then Don had saved them all
He’d come to the rescue and didn’t stall
But now he was caught in the head
Banged by a ten pound book about lead.
He was Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

9.First he was stunned and then knocked out
As he fell to the floor turning about
They came crashing upon him they fell
As the last rescued clerk crawled through the shell
Of an underground that was all blocked off
By all those books that had fallen rough
Upon the man they’d known as
Don, Big Don, Big Tall Don.

Darn that Rachmaninov. Especially on Thursdays

Noel Coward’s “Brief Encounters”, directed by David Lean.

How a brief encounter can change a life, especially if it’s Thursday and Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto # 2 is playing on the soundtrack. It’s in a train station where Alec and Laura meet. She has something in her eye and he gets it out. Of course that is what a doctor would do, and since he is a doctor, he does just that. He is a general practitioner come to Milford for a day of work at the hospital and she is a housewife come to town for some shopping and a movie. It is a Thursday and she’s happily married until he tells her, “You can never be dull.”

For several Thursdays they meet in passing. Then suddenly one Thursday the doctor and the housewife, happily married, are having way too much fun as they set off for the movies. On the way back to the train station, he slips his hand around her arm. Then it is tea as they wait for their respective trains. He talks about his desire to make the world a better place. Then there’s that damned Rachmaninov and you know there’s unhappiness in store for her. And possibly him.

“May I see you again? Next Thursday?” he pleads. She resists, then relents. She watches his train leave, realizing how dangerous things may be getting as she speaks his name to herself. “Alec.”

Laura, it would have to be a Laura, takes her train home and her boy has had an accident. She feels guilty. But the accident is not serious. She confesses to her husband that she met a strange man and offers to invite him to dinner to show her husband it was harmless. Her husband seems not to care, saying that it would be an inconvenience. Why don’t she invite him to lunch?

Alec doesn’t show the next Thursday afternoon as she waits for him, half-hoping that he will not show. She goes off to the movies, then it’s back to the train station and tea. She leaves the station to catch her train. As she takes one last look around her, she sees the good doctor running toward her. “I’m so sorry,” he says. Of course, he is. They always are in these kinds of movies. He explains why he is late and she is relieved. Now her walls drop like the walls of Jericho.

The next Thursday they are at the movies and then a lake. They take a boat and are on the water. And there’s Rachmaninov. And they are having a bloody good time.

Tea again in a boat house and they are quiet. Then he says the words. You know, the words that always doom happily marrieds to a life of unhappiness. “I’ve fallen in love with you,” Alec the doctor says to Laura the housewife, and now they are desperately doomed people. You know it, and they know it. And the fun they’ve had is over.  Just misery and betrayal.

Why must these kinds of movies be so sad, so tragic? Why couldn’t it be two unmarried, readily available people, falling desperately in love, who have the encounter that becomes a lifetime of happiness? Oh, we’ve seen that movie before too and it is “Love Story”. The woman dies at the end, and it too is sad.

That they are unmarried and happily in love doing all the things that happily-in-love people do, that is what Laura dreams about as she catches her train for home. But the reality is that now her life is a lie. And it is a Thursday lie, this lie she tells her husband. She calls a friend to cover for her. “And I’ll do it for you,” she promises at the end of the telephone conversation.

Another Thursday and the two lovers are together again, having dinner in a hotel dining room. No sex as far as we know, but they might as well have had sex for all the guilt she is feeling. The two go off into the country for a drive. He talks of his love for her and they are on a bridge. This kind of thing always seems to happen on bridges, and a bridge in the country on a lovely afternoon is the best place for it to happen. The next thing you know it is night and they are saying their good nights, longingly. It is such a desperate kind of good night.

There’s that Rachmaninov and it is hard to resist Rachmaninov. Especially if it’s night and it is raining and you are in need of refuge from a marriage that has become, of all things, boring. She misses her train and follows him back to a nearby flat where he is staying with a friend. She runs up the stairs and knocks on his door. He opens the door and invites her in.

She is about to fall into Alec’s arms when suddenly his friend returns and comes in the back way. She leaves without being seen. But the doctor’s friend picks up her coat and hands it to Alec and says, “You have hidden depths.” He says other things, showing his disapproval. Alec follows Laura, leaving his friend’s disappointment behind him.

The next scene we see is Laura running down the street. It is night and there’s Rachmaninov. She’s missed her train and telephones her husband to tell him she will be late getting home. She lies. She is with a librarian friend whose mother is ill, She hangs up and wanders the streets for three hours and then she is back at the train station. The doctor shows up and they argue.

“Could you really say goodbye? I love you, Laura, and I shall love you to the end of my life. This is the beginning of the end of it all.” It is a desperate speech. He tells her that he will be leaving England and soon unless she tells him to do otherwise. She doesn’t. They both know that it is the only way out. But let’s have another Thursday. She takes the train home, and again there is Rachmaninov playing that damned Concerto # 2.

The following Thursday there is again a drive in the country and more Rachmaninov. Then they are having tea in the train station, struggling to get up the courage to say goodbye. And having tea, there is all this sadness filling the movie. You just know that this can’t end well. You’ve seen enough of these movies and they never end well. “I do love you with all my heart and soul,” Alec says to Laura one last time. “I want to die,” Laura says to her doctor.

A woman acquaintance of Laura’s intrudes and forces herself on them. She joins them for tea, interrupting their sadness with her talk. She can’t seem to stop talking. Alec gets up to catch his train. As he leaves, he squeezes Laura’s shoulder for one last goodbye. Then he walks out of the station. It’s over, but how can it be over? Laura’s heart is dying, and when the woman goes to the counter to retrieve her tea, Laura leaves the station. She starts to jump under a train, possibly his train, that is passing but she doesn’t. She returns to the station and almost faints.

Then she is in the living room of her home with her husband and Rachmaninov is playing and her husband comes over to her in her chair where she has been dreaming. He says, “You’ve been a long way away. Thank you for coming back to me.” He doesn’t say, “Back to us.” He says “Back to me.”

David Lean’s first movie that he directed totally alone is over. It is the beginning of David Lean’s ascendancy and Noel Coward’s decline. Already we see the potential of what is to come.

If you have an itch, scratch it. If you see a dragon, watch out.

Sir Packs-a-whallup was an old school knight if there ever was one. None of that going off to a Crusade just for the sake of knocking a few heathen heads around like croquet balls. Any lord in a tin can could do that. A knight didn’t have to go all the way to the Holy Land to rape, pillage and loot. If he ran out of rpl’s in Merry Olde England, there was always France.

Unfortunately the Pope didn’t give out “Get out of Jail Free” cards for France or England. It was the Holy Land or Bust. Sir’s comment on the the Papal draft and staying home, “At least, you get warm weather in hell. This English weather just kills me.”

You see, many a knight had gone bust by going off half-cocked to Jerusalem. Besides they had to leave their ladyships behind for any Sir Tom, Sir Dick or Sir Harry to romance. It had gotten harder to get a decent chastity belt. Recently there had been a run-on on chastity belts. If that wasn’t enough, there were the recalls, so many that it made GM’s look like a Sunday outing.

On the way to an rpl one fine sprig of a spring day, Sir had an itch. It felt like it had been itching for days. And the itch was under his cuisse. That is, to say, his butt itched. Normally he would have ignored it, but this one was not your ordinary butt itch. It felt like a flea on his dog, Rover. The only way to get some relief was to get off his horse and let his squire shove a wire hanger down his armor and give his backside the scratch it deserved. Four days on a horse certainly qualified for a well-earned scratch.

“Whoa, Peckerwood,” Sir said to his stallion, a black fellow eighteen hands high.

The charger stopped so fast that Sir flew over the horse’s head and landed face down in the dirt. “Damn horse,” he muttered. Then to his squire, “Squire, get out the scratcher.”

Squire ran over to his boss with the wire hanger. Sir lifted himself onto all fours.

Five minutes later, his Sirness gave an audible sigh of relieve. His rear end gave a big toot. The itch had been scratched. Squire said to his lord and master, “Big Guy, me thinks you have the hemorrhoids.”

“That’s what I get for riding Peckerwood so much. What are we going to do about this?”

“Blame it on the horse,” Peckerwood protested to himself. “Always blame it on the horse.”

“Only one thing to do, Boss,” Squire recalled his medical training at the Ye Olde London College for Barbers and Physicians. “Get out the leaches and perform a hemrhoidalechtomy.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? The Pope to preach another crusade?”

Squire worked his work quickly. “Kemosabe,” he finally said. “Oops, wrong role. Big Guy, the tests are in. Your rear end has been bled. Your backside has been scratched. So it’s time we were off.”

Sir stood, feeling relieved. Then he said, “Thanks. You’re a regular Sancho Panza.” He got back into the horse’s saddle and started down the road. Squire followed on his donkey.

A little bit down the road, the two came to a town. The mayor met them at the gate.

“Thank all that’s holy,” Mayor said. “You got our message.”

“We did indeed,” Sir said from his saddle. “What message was that?”

“The message to come and protect our fair town from the dragon.”

“Oh, that message,” Sir said. “I keep getting my messages crossed. Here a message. There a message. Everywhere a messy-message. Which dragon is it that’s bothering you?”

“Saintjorge. He’s a mean one, he is. Worse than Mr. Grinch.”

“What are his demands?”

“He wants one of our virgins. He has given us till midnight three days from now.”

“And how many virgins do you have in this fair city?” Sir was thinking it wasn’t really a fair city. It looked like a dump. But what the hey. A knight can’t be choosey when it comes to an heroic act. Sir had to take what he could get. It been a fortnight since his last heroic act.

“We only have four, your Sirship,” Mayor gave the knight the census. “All my daughters. We would have more but the king came through last week. And you know how royal he is once he spots a virgin.” Even though the king was half blind in one eye and couldn’t see out the other, it was very easy to spot a virgin. The virgins all had virgin spots.

Sir then asked Mayor, “Here’s the $64,000 question. What are their names, these virgins?”

“Any, Mini, Miny and Moe. I know. I know. It’s not very original. We were thinking about calling them Ima, Ura, Shesa, and Hesa. But that wouldn’t work since my last name is Pigface.”

Sir popped down onto the ground. “Before I go off and bop the dragon a good one, I would like to inspect the virgins.” Sir always enjoyed this part of his job. The Virgin Inspection.

Sir took a look at the virgins and was pleased. Very pleased. And all four had the Virgin Spots.

He looked up at the sky. “It’s a good day for a dragon whopping. It’s a good day indeed.”

A little while later, actually about a half an hour sundial time, Sir returned to the town from the dragon’s cave. Smoke billowed around his armor.

“That’s some dragon,” he said.

Sir went over to a bucket of cold water and plopped his rear in it. The heat rose from the bucket. “I needed that.”

“Did you take care of him?” Mayor asked, hoping for the best.

What he got was this. “You think I’m crazy?” Sir asked. “That dragon is one big sucker.”

Then the smell from Sir’s armor hit Mayor squarely in the face.

“Peeewwwww,” both Squire and Mayor said. “What is that smell?”

“Dragon fart. And I thought I could blow one out. But this guy is holding back nothing. I got to his cave and he hit me with a big one right square in the face. A real doozy. I didn’t have a chance. I would have preferred being roast beef to that.”

Squire reached into his saddle bag. He pulled out a giant bottle of UnStinkum and sprayed his boss with it. Now he smelled like roses. So much so that everybody in the town started calling him Rosie the Riveter because of the riveting way he came up with solutions to any number of problems. Like the current one. How was he going to save the four virgins?

“So? Did you slay him?” Inquiring minds wanted to know. Especially one. Any, Mini, Miny and Moe’s dad, the mayor.

“Are you kidding?” Sir said, glad to be rid of the odor.

“What are we going to do then?” Squire stuck his two bits in.

“We need a plan,” Sir suggested. “And I think I have one. What would happen if there were no virgins in the town?”

“No virgins, no dragon. But we have four virgins.”

“Then we will just have to de-virginize the virgins. In a former life, I was known as Sir Viagra the De-Virginizer, and I am at your service. I have the perfect virgin spot remover.”

Sir was going to have to go the extra mile. The thing was that he had never taken on four at one time. He’d done three virgins before. That was how he had earned his spurs of knighthood. Four was going to take extra effort. But sacrifices had to be made. Besides it was an act of Christian charity. And one thing Sir was about was Christian charity.

An hour later Sir stepped out of the Mayor’s house and lit a cigarette. He was singing, “Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant.” Then he said, “I’ve done it. They said it couldn’t be done but I done it.”

“The virgins?” Squire asked.

“Yep, they have all been de-spotted.” Then Sir turned to the mayor and said, “No need to thank me. Knowing that I have done a good deed is all the thanks I need.”

In the sky, they saw the dragon take off from the mountain, squealing his dragon squeal. He flew above the town and raised his rear and let one rip. Then he headed west where there was more opportunity, taking his grandpa’s advice, “Go west, young man.”

Sir Packs-a-whallup held his nose. Squire held his nose. Mayor held his nose. The smell was unbelievable. The wind blew in from the south and the dragon odor lingered over the kingdom for years.

Some say that it was that aroma that first started the Plague. I am not particularly qualified to argue a yea or a nay on that. Let’s just say. The kingdom went bankrupt from the loss of the tourist trade to the kingdom.

Well, folks, that’s tonight’s episode. If you happen to have a dragon show up on your doorstep, just contact Sir at 1-DEV-IRG-INIZ. He’ll return your call within twenty-four hours. Remember that you’ll get a 15% discount if you tell the operator where you read the show. Until next week, good night and good dragoning.

The Perfect Diet

Have I got a diet for you. It’s guaranteed. A real weight loser if ever there was one. There are just two ingredients and it’s not an expensive diet. I am talking the Bread and Water diet. And not just any bread and water. Make sure you get the newly branded Prison Bread and Water. It will be the ones stamped with San Quentin’s Seal of Approval.

If you are one of those who need help sticking to a diet, we have a very special program for you. It’s a new fangled spa called the Joint and this joint ain’t the kind you smoke. To help raise some badly needed cash, the government has agreed to rent out its prisons as spas. Don’t worry about the prisoners. They are all being paroled.

When you arrive there, you’ll be strip searched. It’s for your protection. It’s to make sure that you are not sneaking food in. If you do get it in, you might be attacked by some of the other inmates when they decide they don’t want to stay on diet.

This new prison system of diet farms is guaranteed to cut the recidivism rate on dieting down to 10%. Recidivism? you ask. Yes, that is those people who go back to their old ways. The Joint uses a new psychological re-education program. It’s called the taser. If you even think about going off your diet while in The Joint, you are tasered.

The great thing about this new system is that the program offers something for everyone. There will be four different rates. For the $100 a week rate, you get to share a cell with a fellow inmate. It allows you to motivate each other. For this rate, you get to join your fellow inmates on the Chain Gang. It’s one heck of an exercise program.

For the self-motivated, there is the $200 a week rate. This pays for a cell all by yourself. Also you get to participate in the many in-house work programs, like the laundry, the kitchen or the warden’s office.

And then there is the solitary confinement rate. It is $500 a week. This allows you to spend your time alone and not having to associate with the riff raff. You’ll get your meals served by a gourmet chef whose recipes for Bread and Water are mouth-watering. On top of that, you get to exercise in the yard all by your lonesome.

Finally there is the Death Row program. For $1000, you will have your own special cell on Death Row. You will be visited by a chaplain. You’ll get a last meal of your choice. Then you’ll be led to the electric chair, where a special executioner will zap those pounds right off you. Some previous participates of this program have lost up to 100 pounds in just one sitting.

Now I can hear some of you with your doubts. This program will never work. It’s worked for years for the Russians. It is called the Siberian Rejuvenation Program, better known as the Gulag. Remember the word “Gulag” is Russian for weight loss.

So hurry. Be the first one on your block to sign up. Already we have over 1000 enrollees scheduled to begin the program the first of next month. The program can only accommodate one and a half million inmates.

Fifty Shades of —–

Here are some forthcoming movie titles for America’s favorite couple:

Fifty Shades of Green: Ana just can’t decide what color her dress should be.

Fifty Shades of Giggles: Ana sees Christian with no clothes on and all she can do is laugh.

Fifty Shades of Grunting: Ana is preparing for the Boston Marathon.

Fifty Shades of Groundhogs: Ana visits Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, and sees her shadow.

Fifty Shades of Greenways: Remember that time Christian took Ana golfing. She went for the caddy.

Fifty Shades of Gridlock: Ana and Christian in NYC traffic. Next time they take the subway.

Fifty Shades of Guffaws: Ana learns that Christian has the weirdest laugh.

Fifty Shades of Grits: Ana goes south for the summer, y’all.

Fifty Shades of Grime: Christian just can’t get his Rolls Royce clean.

Fifty Shades of Grub: Ana really can cook.

Fifty Shades of Grass: Ana and Christian move to Colorado.

Fifty Shades of Grades: Ana’s professor says, “Well, that really isn’t a D. It’s a shade off a D. If you look at it in the right light, it could be a C.”

Fifty Shades of Grumpy: Ana has spent all day preparing Mr. G’s favorite meal. He comes home and starts in. Ana says, “Oh, did we have a bad day.”

Fifty Shades of Goofing Off: Christian and Ana get a night just to kick back, have some pizza and watch “Fifty Shades of Grey”.

There you have it. It’s only the beginning. Hollywood is looking for more ideas for Fifty Shades of You-Know-What. Got any ideas?