it would appear that the western/romanized alphabet has, to borrow a mafia phrase, "gone to the matresses" and are therefore prohibited from sponsoring any programs in the near future. and unrest in the shogunate has led to a clash between the hiragana and katakana clans, with nearly 2/3rds of all kanji characters caught in the crossfire perilously close to death. and since i don't know shit about cunieform or hieroglyphics, today's program is brought to you by the number 2, which not-so-incidentally is the number of founding members of the who that are still alive. as most of you probably know, john entwistle, bassist for the who, passed away yesterday in his hotel room in vegas. the who were about to embark on a reunion tour the following evening in las vegas before going to irvine on saturday and then the hollywood bowl on monday. i was really looking forward to the show because i figured that it'd probably be my last chance to catch one of the great acts in classic rock since i can't see the beatles or led zep play and won't be able to afford anything for the upcoming stones tour. at least i can get a refund on my tickets which can be used to get seats for chick corea or the bb king blues festival.
i remember back in my sesame street watching days that part of the number of the day segments involved a bunch of different people announcing the number. you know, stuff like "six apples" or "three kittens." and invariably a chef in a white suit and chef boyardee hat (let's call him luigi) would march out and announce " pies", take two steps, and promptly drop them all over himself. well luigi, today you're spared because there's only two pies to drop on yourself. i wonder if they did all of the numbers in one day of shooting and then dug up the archived clips for each day of sesame street programming. or if luigi had to get up each day, wait for a call from his agent, and don a new set of spanking whites. i suppose a bad day would be like when the number of the day was 21 or something like that. can you imagine that, luigi picks up the phone with a fresh uni on and his agent says "sorry bro, today's number is 21." since luigi spent last night out with the boys drinking too much grappa, he's got a wicked hangover and gets really pissed at the idea of 21 hot pans full of steaming fruit and pastry shell running down the front of his pants into his crotch after he has to ever so precariously balance them before taking his tumble. yelling at his agent, luigi says, "that's-a-it! i quit!" and they got to call in all the other disgruntled characters from sesame street like the count, bert and oscar to talk poor, sputtering luigi off the ledge of his apartment so he doesn't become a big red meatball in front of luis' market.
time to get back to work, i've got to wade through this eport from the federal trade commission.
***
i just checked out the hollywood bowl website in hopes of finding out how and when i could get my refund. looks like pete and roger have decided to become standard bearers and carry on. hot diggity dog!
i remember back in my sesame street watching days that part of the number of the day segments involved a bunch of different people announcing the number. you know, stuff like "six apples" or "three kittens." and invariably a chef in a white suit and chef boyardee hat (let's call him luigi) would march out and announce " pies", take two steps, and promptly drop them all over himself. well luigi, today you're spared because there's only two pies to drop on yourself. i wonder if they did all of the numbers in one day of shooting and then dug up the archived clips for each day of sesame street programming. or if luigi had to get up each day, wait for a call from his agent, and don a new set of spanking whites. i suppose a bad day would be like when the number of the day was 21 or something like that. can you imagine that, luigi picks up the phone with a fresh uni on and his agent says "sorry bro, today's number is 21." since luigi spent last night out with the boys drinking too much grappa, he's got a wicked hangover and gets really pissed at the idea of 21 hot pans full of steaming fruit and pastry shell running down the front of his pants into his crotch after he has to ever so precariously balance them before taking his tumble. yelling at his agent, luigi says, "that's-a-it! i quit!" and they got to call in all the other disgruntled characters from sesame street like the count, bert and oscar to talk poor, sputtering luigi off the ledge of his apartment so he doesn't become a big red meatball in front of luis' market.
time to get back to work, i've got to wade through this eport from the federal trade commission.
***
i just checked out the hollywood bowl website in hopes of finding out how and when i could get my refund. looks like pete and roger have decided to become standard bearers and carry on. hot diggity dog!
chiquita:
that luigi tale you regaled us with, is in fact, a true story. you, good sir, must be prescient. i heard the whole sordid tale recently from snuggleluffagus's cousin mo while we were shopping for a loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butt-ah.
