"Ah, Memories"

 
 
 

This lp [ long playing ] was first seen by yours truly circa 1970, when I was a sophomore at Truck U. My new roommate, Rick, had a whole slew of new albums and this be one of them.

It contains the classic "Almost Cut My Hair," which I once satirized with "Almost Cut My [ avocado ] Pear." Giving it a food service theme, eh?

"It increases my paranoia.
Like looking in my mirror
And seeing a po-lice car."

They don't make those kind of lyrics anymore.

The classic vinyl disc also includes "Our House," which is a nice little diddy, reminiscent of the flower power days.

Click here for the song, v.c

P.S. You put the flowers in the vase that you bought. Today ay ay ay ay.  

"Concert For Bangladesh"

 
 
 
 

"The Concert For Bangladesh" was the first of its kind back in the day. Put together by George Harrison in a response to his friend and mentor's pleas, Ravi Shankar, the all star cast at Madison Square Garden included: Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr, Billy Preston, Leon Russell among others. Bob Dylan was invited to attend, but seems he was nervous at playing in such a big venue. In fact, George didn't know if he would participate until the last minute. Here's a clip! v.c.

P.S. And here's the title song.

"Customer Service"

 

The following rant was dredged up by yours truly while surfing the web. The author writes about the usual cliches. Advertising to get 'em in; never coming back; shouting from the highest trees, etc. Here's the link to Mr. Cliche's guide to customer service.
Where he rambles on and on and on:


Remember me? I'm the person who goes into a restaurant, sits down patiently and waits while the servers do everything but take my order. I'm the person who goes into a department store and stands quietly while the salespeople finish their little chitchat.

I'm the person who goes into a reception area on time for a business appointment and stands by the desk while the receptionist finishes her personal phone call.

You might say I'm a patient person. But do you know who else I am?
I'm the person who never comes back!

It amuses me to see you spending money on advertising to try to get me to visit your establishment again, especially when I was there in the first place and all you had to do was show me a little courtesy.

Over the years, I've written, I've spoken and I've even shouted hundreds of times from the tallest tree about customer service. Plenty of others have done the same. So why does it continue to be such an issue?

Why is there poor customer service? Imho:

1) The poor people who work in restaurants don't make enough dough!

2) Food service team members are more interested in getting laid; talking and text messaging on their cell phones; and fantasizing about their next hairdo.

3) Most managers they work under are dickheads.

4) Most customers are dickheads.

5) Burger King spoiled everybody with "Have it your way!" editor's note: Having worked at a Burger King recently where the situation was utter chaos-no staff to speak of and very busy-and some dickhead wants a whopper without a pickle. Gimme a break!

6) The service people have to listen to:

a) "Your prices are too high." "I can buy a six pack for the cost of one beer here." Well, nobody's stopping you. You're paying for the ambiance, the convenience, the service, the overhead, the taxes, the toilet paper-need I go on.

b) "I had to wait too long." If you hadn't ordered your Big Mac without a tiny dollop of mustard, we could have had your merry ass down the road by now.

c ) "What are the ingredients in your lobster bisque? I'm allergic to clams. Any in the bisque?" So it takes you 10 minutes to read the ingredients on the package, starting with all the preservatives and seasonings to find that the only denizen of the sea in the product is lobster.

d) "If [ disgruntled employee ] he/she doesn't want to be here, then he/sheit should go home." I'm wondering if they learned this concept in one of their many business classes. Brilliance!

7) The company they work for treats 'em like shit and will fire 'em in a heartbeat. Especially if they are old and make too much money.

8) The company they work for does not reward excellence. If you are a dickhead of an employee or if you're an excellent employee, and you both have the same job title, then you will make the same amount of pay.

9) The company gives you a raise every year. And it's piddling to say the least. What's 2% of $7.00 an hour. "You mean I'll be receiving a whopper, er, whopping additional $.14 an hour. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santy Claus!"

10) And the main reason food service employees don't give good customer service is: they're just plain forkin' tired. Kaput! Fini'!

The food biz, v.c.

P.S. Led Zeppelin summed it all up in a song they wrote back in the day. >Click here for the tune!

P.S.S. "Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce. Special orders don't upset us. All we ask is that you let us have it your way!"




 

"I Was A Dickhead" Text by v.c. [ yers truly ]

 
 
 
 

A very long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I gave my mother's carrot souffle recipe to a bunch of scalawags, who in return gave me nada. Well, they did give me a hard time-musn't forget to give praise when it's justified.

And they did send my mother a nice thank you letter. Wasn't that special? Apologies to the "Church Woman."

Now every Tom, Dick, and Larry is selling it.

Do you think the dumb ass brass ever asked me if there was another recipe in my mother's arsenal? If you replied in the affirmative, then you're a bigger dickhead than me.

We sold the beejeezus out of carrot souffle at H.ell W.hole! Every day we sold beaucoup quarts of the stuff at $4.99 a pop; not to mention the beaucoups bowls we served. We made 3 triple recipes per day. That's 117 lbs. of carrots. Talk about stimulating the Mexican economy. [ the diced frozen 20 lb. box of carrots from whence it hailed ]

Did v.c. receive any remuneration for his contribution? If you answered in the affirmative, then once again you're a bigger dickhead than Al Gore, who also just happened to invent the internet.

It really peeves me [ pisses me off ] to recount this sad tale. Yes, I was a dickhead.

Here's hoping they rot in hades, v.c.

P.S. Click here for the carrot souffle recipe as espoused by the AJC. 

"History of the Middle Finger" or "The Bird Is The Word" Apologies to The Trashmen!

 
 
 
 


The History Of The Middle Finger
Well, now......here's something I never knew before, and now that I know it, I feel compelled to send it on to my more intelligent friends in the hope that they, too, will feel edified. Isn't history more fun when you know something about it?

Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating victory over the English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of all captured English soldiers. Without the middle finger it would be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and therefore they would be incapable of fighting in the future. This famous English longbow was made of the native English Yew tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as "plucking the yew" (or "pluck yew") .

Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major upset and began mocking the French by waving their middle fingers at the defeated French, saying, See, we can still pluck yew!

Since 'pluck yew' is rather difficult to say, the difficult consonant cluster at the beginning has gradually changed to a labiodentals fricative F', and thus the words often used in conjunction with the one-finger-salute!

It is also because of the pheasant feathers on the arrows used with the longbow that the symbolic gesture is known as "giving the bird."

IT IS STILL AN APPROPRIATE SALUTE TO THE FRENCH TODAY!

Au revoir, v.c.

P.S. SURFIN' BIRD
(Frazier - White - Harris - Wilson)
THE TRASHMEN (GARRETT 4002, 1963)

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
B-b-b-bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a...

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
Bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody's talking about the bird!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird...

Surfin' bird
Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb... [retching noises]... aaah!

Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-oom-oom-oom
Oom-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-a-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Well don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
[repeat to fade]
 

"Man of A [Ten]Thousand Faces"or "When Will v.c. [ yours truly ] Hit The Magic Number? Query Submitted by the Lone Stranger [ Pictruandtru ]

 

Apologies to Lon "Werewolf" Chaney!

It has been well-chronicled throughout the ages how yours truly has no earthly idea who in the H.ell [ W.hole ] is pictruandtru. He and I or me and him go way back, yet he remains an enigma.

My other friend, who goes by the unlikely name of hootsbuddy, is known to me, and he is the scoundrel who turned me on to blogorama.

"Cat, [ yours truly ] this blogging business is liberating. You can write about anything and everything; there are no restrictions to content," he wrote and /or told me one fateful day circa 2004.

And the rest is history. Thanks to the hootster [ affectionate nickname coined by....yers truly ] Golden Pond became my embryonic initiation into blogdom. And so far the results have been less than overwhelming. My poor l'il blog is on target to reach a meager 10,000 hits in the next few weeks, while the hootster is about to hit 40,000. ( editor's note: Perhaps he already has. As of this writing, who the fork knows? )

So in reply to me buddy's query,[ ergo, pictruandtru ] G.P. has 9800 and change hits. But if you want to make me feel better about all this, start hitting away. Let's get v.c.'s G.P., his labour of love, up to 10,000. Soon! Or with a quickness as we used to lament at Rowdy High, circa back in the day.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, v.c.

P.S. I recently received this nice comment from one of my readers via e mail. It read:

You are CLASSIC, v.c. . . .what a mind. . .I hope someone "discovers" you . . .as you're the most original person I've ever read . . .WOW! signed Shirley. Location: Beautiful Hawaii!

P.S.S. Yes, it is well-chronicled how I am a legend in my own mind. Alas, to be or not to be-that is the question! Apologies to the Bard!  

"I've Got A Feeling"or "Beatles For Sale!"

 
 
 
 

The "Let It Be" sessions were full of acrimony. [ for lack of a better word ]
It has been well-chronicled how the breakup of the Liverpudians began during these recordings. However, the rooftop concert in merry old London is the last live performance from the band that changed music and helped forge cultural upheavals forever.

Some of London's business community weren't too thrilled by the impromptu assembly of talent, however. [ including Billy Preston, who I saw later in concert at "Truck U., my alma mater. By then, circa early 70's, he was sporting a humongous afro. ] For the trivia buffs, Billy was the only performer ever mentioned on a Fab 4 recording.

Although "Abbey Road" followed, "Let It Be" was the beginning of the end. And, of course, Golden Pond will include a recording from the rooftop conert. And, of course, it's one of my favorites.

P.S. As Shirley as there was acrimony [ there's that word again ] in the studio, the rooftop concert showed the genuine spirit and love of playing that made these guys the greatest. Apologies to Muhammed Ali.  
P.S.S. Everybody had a wet dream, oh yeah, v.c.

"Yers Truly Is Working Out;" or "Profile Change"

 

The proprietor of the Pond [ yers truly ] has recently changed his profile or "about me." Because it is mired at the bottom of the blog most readers haven't noticed and probably wouldn't give a toot anyhoo. But here is the change in text:

About Me
Name:vietnamcatfish
Location:Pond Jovi, Golden Pond, United States
Forays into the infantile are my specialty. I was born in the 50's so that means I am not getting older-but better. Yeah, right. My hair is thinning; there are more hairs in my ears than fruit flies on a ripe plantain; my libido is like the old gray mare-"it ain't what it used to be;" and I would have loved to retire when age 65 beckons, but it looks as though I'll continue to work until I drop. I love the movies. Some of my personal favorites are: "Casablanca" [ here's looking at you, Kid ]; "The Thing," which starred James Arness as an angry alien carrot from Outer Space; "The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad" with special effects by Ray Harryhausen; and "From Prussia, er, Russia With Love!" And I love the music. My favorite band is a group that hailed from Liverpool, which makes them Liverpudians. Unfortunately, two of the members are deceased. One was assassinated by a crazed, maniacal killer and the other is now singing Hare Krishna in Heaven. Politically? Well you'll have to read "The Pond" to find out. Welcome to Golden Pond, home to yours truly, Kitty, Catlain, Charlie Jr. and two mischievous pets named Penny and Neil.

View my complete profile  

"Now Here's A Blogger I Can Relate To!" or "Most Blogs Suck, imho!"

 
 

We live in a society that, for lack of a better word, is fucked. We go to war for oil. We round up members of one crazy religious group as we elect members of another. We turn our heads as the person next to us, on the bus, slaps the living shit outta their toddler. For Christ's sake Carrot Top is starring in movies and I just can't fuckin' take it any more. I'm gonna fight back the only way I know how - the only way I can. You can join me, or you can watch me, but you can't fuckin' stop me (Well, not for less than $23.50 and free cable TV for life).

I know I tend to be a bit of a Freudian, but, frankly, these little stunts make a man feel like he's got a big dick. I have no idea what they do to women. So, ladies, if you attempt on of these pranks and spend the rest of the week feeling like Ron Jeremy, don't say you weren't warned.

Go forward into the night, my big dicked army. Let the computer and the printer be your weapons. Cause no harm, but take no shit. Will the cast of Dawson's Creek be dropping by your local Anarchist book store? Maybe there'll be a Maplethorpe exhibition at a Baptist church? The possibilities are endless.

The above foray is available from Rodney Anonymous. Perhaps he knows Thomas Anonymous, who failed to answer my query concerning Brylcreem?

P.S. Badfinger sang "Come and Get It" in the movie, "The Magic Christian." Circa 1969. Rowdy High's class of '69 Senior Class' [ of which yers truly was a charter member ] motto was:

Sex, sin, beer and wine!
We're the class of '69.

The writer digresses. Paul McCartney wrote the aforementioned song for Badfinger. And guess what? An exclusive on "Golden Pond." Here is my main man warbling the tune. 
P.S. I chided my friend and blogger extraordinaire, hootsbuddy, last week when he erroneously reported that "M.C." starred Peter Sellers and John Lennon. Fire yer proofreader, hoots.

P.S.S. The link to Rodney didn't materialize so here it is: www.rodneyanonymous.com/read/magic/magic3.html

"You'll Look So Debonair" or "Yul [ Brynner ] Look So Debonair"

 
 
 
 

More ad slogans from back inna day:

1) You can trust your car to the man who wears the star-the big bright Texaco star!

2) Brylcreem-a little dab a do ya; Brylcreem-you'll look so debonair; Brylcreem, the gals will all peruse, er, pursue you; they love to get their fingers in yer hair. Thanks to Thomas Anonymous.

3) I'd even go North for "Southern Bread."

4) Plop plop fizz fizz; oh what a relief it is.

5) I can't believe I ate the whole [ forkin' ] thing!

6) No matter what shape yer stomach's in!

7) The "Shell" Answer Man: Let's ask him today why the price of a single gallon of petrol is so [ freakin' ] high! I'd like to see him try and answer that one, eh?

8) The beer that made Milwaukee famous. Whatever happened to Schlitz, anyhoo? Now there's Heineken, Boss, Michelob, Coors, Icehouse, Red Stripe, Corona, etc. Whatever happened to Pabst Blue Ribbon and Old Milwaukee, my favorite beer as a young adult. [ they don't make 'em like they used to ]

9) Bosco [ don't recall the slogan ]

10) [ This airline is currently in bankruptcy ] is ready when you are.

Thomas, wherefore art thou? Can you add to the list, v.c.

P.S. I still use Brylcreem. The synchronicity vibe is alive and well. 

"Only Her Hairdresser Knows For Sure!"

 
 
 
 

Today while at H.ell W.hole II I made the reference to " does she or doesn't she?; only her hairdresser knows for sure," as a few of us were talking-just shooting the shit. I forget the context, but no one had ever heard the saying.

I immediately said: "it must have been before your time!"

And I'm thinking to myself: "Damn, is that saying out of vogue. It used to be very popular."

Seems they used to ask the question of Ronald Reagen: "Does he or doesn't he? And they even asked his hairdresser who said: "the boy's hair is au natural."

a blast from the past, v.c.

P.S. Speaking of Oprah, it seems she is not gay. According to Oprah and her close chum, who have known each other for years. But recently, my team members at work said that Eddie Murphy was gay. When I got home and looked it up on the google, it seems the story has some merit. Who'd a thunk it, eh?

P.S.S. And speaking of antiquated commercials from back in the day how about:

1) Show us yer "Lark Pack!"

2) Nestle's makes the very best....chocolate!"

3) Yul [ Brynner ] wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with....chocolate, er, Pepsodent.

4) Let "Hertz" put you in the driver's seat. [ an oxymoron if it had been, Let [ a ] Hearst put you in the driver's seat ]

5) Ipana and Bucky Beaver

6) Can't get enough of that Sugar Daddy, er, Bear

7) 20 Mule Team Borax [ Death Valley Days ]

8) "Dammit, Helen, I'd rather do it myself." [ Excedrin ] Now they've got Excedrin P.M., A.M., P.M.S., etc.

9) Winston taste good like a cigarette should.

10) Does v.c. or doesn't v.c. Only his proofreader knows for sure. Selah.


MISS CLAIROL ADVERTISEMENTS

The first Miss Clairol ads were originally written "Does she... or doesn't she? Hair color so natural only her mother knows for sure!" However, Clairol was concerned about alienating hairdressers by their attempts at selling retail. By changing the word "mother" to "hairdresser," the ads turned the hairdresser into an authority. So, the final ads read, "Does she... or doesn't she? Hair color so natural only her hairdresser knows for sure!" (Cummings, 1985). 

"Dedicated to the Hootster!" For Further Details See hootsbuddy.blogspot.com

 

Shirley, the hootster will enjoy this trailer. Seems as if the author, Harper Lee, never wrote another novel. Hmmmm. Seems, too, there was speculation the book was co-authored. What's the scoop, Hoots? Did she or didn't she? 

"Dear Frat Bro!"

This foray into the infantile was written December 14, 2002. It was always one of my favorites, and yet it received little acclaim when it first debuted. Here it is in its entirety. Submitted for your approval and perusal:

Back in the day, when I was a young, misguided whiskersnapper, I wrote a column for Truck U., my school's newspaper. Advice to the lovelorn student body-allah "Dear Cat." I ran across my moth-eaten scrapbook the other day in the basement. Here's a sampling:

Dear Frat Bro: I'm scared shitless, dude. LBJ has decided to intensify our presence in Vietnam. I'm an English major, who is in danger of flunking out of school. My lottery number is 69. I'm afraid that I will be classified 1-A soon. Any suggestions. Signed: Not a Fortunate Son.

Dear Fortunate Son: Get to the bookstore quick and buy every "cliff notes" ever published. How do you think I've stayed at Truck U. all these years. Btw, Dude, the Canterbury Tales is a wild ride if you get the unabridged version. But Homer, Socrates, and Aristotle are greek to me. BTW, I ain't no senator's son. And when the tax man showed up at my dad's place, the house looked like a rummage sale, yawl. Thanks for the query and good luck!

Dear Frat Bro: Your column is heavy and far out. And groovy, dude. My friends tell me there's an outdoor rock concert/festival in upstate New York in August. Lots of beautiful people going. Trying to find themselves. It's gonna be a weekend of partying, dude. I heard that Jimi, Janis, CSN, Santana, Jefferson Airplane and maybe Bob Dylan will be there. Are you makin' the scene? Signed: Blonde on Blonde/Volunteers For America

Dear Blonde Volunteers: It's gonna be da heaviest collection of misfits ever assembled in one setting. Unfortunately, Bob has become somewhat of a recluse since his motorcycle accident. But Country Joe and the Fish will be there. Canned Heat and Ten Years After. I heard that Country Joe may change his name to Southern Fried Joe. But it's still the same fish to me. Thanks for the interrogatory!

Dear Frat Bro: When you leave Truck U. in a few years, what are you going to be when you grow up? In other words, what are your career goals? Are you going to get into print journalism and travel the world? Become a d.j. and spin the platters? Enter the exciting world of television. Maybe join Ted Turner's
fledgling new hybrid UHF station? What are you gonna do, dude? Signed: Inquisitive at Truck U's Inquisitional Facility.

Dear Inquisitive: None of the above, dude. I have my mind set on entering the wonderful world of restaurant hospitality. I have applied at Piccadilly Cafeteria. They make all their food from scratch. Pies, salads, meats, and veggies. I can't wait. They say the hours are great and you are well compensated. They have a cracker jack crew of maintenance men with well-honed skills. That repair all your service needs. Check back with me in 20 years and I'll tell you how it's going. "TFTQ!"

Dear Frat Bro: I am a freshman at Truck U. This is my first semester. I am not prepared for what is going on at this decadent institution. My roommate has hair down to his knees. He has gratuitous sex with his old lady [ that's the demeaning term he calls her ] every day, sometimes more. There is a unique smell floating throughout the dorm rooms. Smells similar to cigarettes but a friend said it was marijuana. I overheard my roommate plotting with his friends to blow up the military building on campus. There are anti-war demonstrations daily And a tall skinny shoeless hippie was looking for smokeable butts in my dorm's lobby ashtray. It's a madhouse here. My query: Should I turn my roommate over to the authorities or what? He has political aspirations and I'd hate to get him in trouble. He's a draft dodger as well. I came to Truck U. to get an education. Signed: Bill C's roommate.

Dear Bill: Your roomie is trippin' through a new scene, dude. My roomie, Al, was a prick. Establshment vs. anti-establishment, dude. It wasn't a groovy scene and he booked. He digs his new roomie, Tommy Lee. Loosen up! Suggestion: Go to a burn the bra rally and maybe you'll score.

"All Together Now" or "Creative Spark Is [ Once Again ] Kaput, Fini.'" Or "Perhaps I'm Just Forkin' Tired!"

 

When I gathered-up this picture from the internet and google, feelings of a long time ago, aka back in the day, quickly made their way through my psyche. For a minute, I was back in 1968.

The Fab 4 were still together; James Bond was battling SPECTRE; Laugh-In was the coolest show on television; Colonels in Viet Nam were enjoying the smell of napalm in the morning; Muhammed Ali claimed he had no quarrel with Charlie; Doc Bannick was attempting to school me in Physics at Rowdy High ( unsuckcessfully I might add ); the minimum wage was $1.00 an hour; Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy had been assassinated; Joe Willie had yet to win the Super Bowl; Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell were going at it in the Garden with the venerable Chris Schenkel providing the play-by-play; and there was no oil embargo and gas cost around 25 cents per gallon. [ this is not a misprint ]

Ah, memories. Just from one photograph.

Can I bring my friend to tea? v.c.

P.S. Man had yet to walk on the moon; I was scheduled to visit my cousins in Charleston when yers truly came down with the 3 day measles. ( It was the weekend Robert Kennedy was assassinated. And I missed being in a full-fledged hurricane. Power outages-the whole nine yards ); and Twiggy became the poster child for the "skinny and flat-chested look."

P.S.S. One of the songs from the album is here for the taking. And a nice jump start to your morning! .Click here, s'il vous plait. 

P.S.S.S. Here's another song from the l.p. [ long playing ] but was not heard in the movie. Click here! Classic John Lennon!

"Twilight Zone"

 

You're taking a journey. Through time and space. Destination: Golden Pond. The date is July, 2006. Seated at his computer is the proprietor of the Pond, one vietnamcatfish, v.c. for short.

v.c. is slowly pecking away at the keys in hopes of writing a Pulitzer-worthy foray into the infantile, but, alas, his creative juices aren't flowing tonite. In fact they are kaput, fini.'

The boy's mind is ravaged after spending 30 plus years in the food biz. He is almost passive-aggressived out.

So what else can he do but manuever his mouse to the X located in the right hand corner of his monitor and say goodnight.

Submitted for your approval, v.c.

P.S. And perusal. 

"Summer=Reruns: Tonite's Oldie But Goodie is 'Ode to Kitty'"

"Ode to Kitty" was written circa December, 2004. Time flies when yer havin' fun, eh?

Tonite's foray will be brief. We will eshew ( gesundheit ) entering the perilous parameters of the political arena [ strong attempt at the alliterative vibe, here ] and, instead, go with something a bit more constructive: An Ode To Kitty, my darling wife of umpteen years. How she's been able to put up with me for so long defies comprehension.

Her job description is limitless. And she never receives enough help from me and the kids, Charlie Jr. and Katlin.

She cooks; she works; she listens to my whining; she scolds; she inspires; she's industrious [ envious am I, here ]; she's responsible; she's loving; the list goes on and on.

I have been listening to "Revolver" this week via the c.d. playa. During those lonesome times on the road from H.W. to the Pond and back. And one of me favourites [ keep listening to it over and over ] is the lovely "Here, There, and Everywhere." And the lyrics describe my affections for Kitty, my wife, confidante, and friend.

So here's to you, Kitty:

*editor's note: This rerun of "Ode to Kitty" will include the actual song which is to follow, as soon as I, the ed., refrain from eschewing [ bless you ] the scenery. Click here, s'il vous plait.


To lead a better life I need my love to be here...

Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with a wave of her hand
Nobody can deny that there's something there
There, running my hands through her hair
Both of us thinking how good it can be
Someone is speaking but she doesn't know he's there

I want her everywhere and if she's beside meI know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share
Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

I want her everywhere
and if she's beside meI know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share
Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

To be there and everywhere
Here, there and everywhere

Farewell and adieu, v.c.

P.S. Due to the sensitive subject matter of tonite's foray, all postscripts have been shelved until a later date.

posted by vietnamcatfish at 1:42 AM

3 Comments:
Hoots said...
Good stuff.
Warm regards to Kitty from Hoots, wishing you decades more of happy times together.

5:15 AM
vietnamcatfish said...
Thanks, hootster. Kitty is "the sunshine of my life." A tip of the cap to Stevie Wonder, whose "Songs in the Key of Life" is one of me all time favourite l.p.'s. Always got to get in a music plug, eh? Thanks again, v.c.

11:53 PM
Anonymous said...
I hope Kitty saw that post. I am sure she would love it more than any gift. Take a lesson from the infamous and MIA Demosthenextcard, I am quite certain that Kitty would love a snuggle rub herself. Why, you might even hear her begin to purrrrrrrrrr............

"So It's Been Seen/Viewed Before?" Or "Who Cares" and "Profile"

 

Hey, I love the cover. And my liberal sister gave it to me for Christmas circa 1967 back in the day. She was always giving me neat stuff. She even turned me on to Procol Harum [ "Shine On Brightly" ] And if anyone recalls, she also turned me on to pot. For which she has apologized to me through the years.

Today someone actually perused my profile. Noting I had placed a James Bond song on said profile, I immediately changed the clip to my all-time favorite song, which, of course, comes from the above l.p. [ long playing ] I would like the song to be played at my funeral. Won't that be a hoot when the music blares its way into the assembly.

Roll up for the magical mystery tour, v.c.

P.S. If the viewer doesn't want to make his/her way to my profile, yours truly will submit the tune here for your listening pleasure.