It's hot as balls out today.
In fact, there's a heat warning in effect for this area, so what little I did accomplish today actually felt like a lot so, yeah, I'll take it. But let's see, first I dug out the skunks from under the back shed and then remodelled the bricks around the foundation to make it more "dig proof" in the future, then after a shower I finally returned some long overdue tables to Brimstone Brewing and finally, after a second shower of course, I traipsed around an old dilapidated barn in Long Beach looking a through rusty, mouse shit encrusted barn.
Talk about my version of HEAVEN!
Not.
Lastly, I came home and showered for the third time.
Seriously, it's pretty fucking gross out.
Anyway, the culmination of all this sweat and nastiness today was that I now get to lay on the couch in the comforts of my air-conditioning with a cold beverage and listen to this gloriously Cornball-as-fuck Dukes of Hazzard record.
Don't judge.
This was a huge part of my adolescence.
You could even say that I was more or less weened in front of the boob tube with impossible car jumps over washed out bridges and juicy hints of tantalizing buttocks peeking out from under Daisy's short-shorts. What could be healthier for a then ten year old boy? However on this record you also have Johnny Cash singing about the General-fucking-Lee, arguably the coolest car of all time, and then Tom Wopat absolutely butchering the Band's Up on Cripple Creek. (Honestly, it's a crime against humanity they let let him do this) Oh, and how about Roscoe P. Coltrane (James Best) singing about his dog Flash?
This shit is fucking terrible, and sadly a big part of who I am.
Yeah, drink that in for a moment.
I will defend myself here though by saying that John Schneider's track In the Driver's Seat somehow doesn't manage to complete suck, entirely justifying my 50 minute drive to Dunnville a few months ago (May) with Kelly to specifically get it from the Nostalgia Antiques & Collectibles store.
Don't judge.
So why the Dukes today you ask?
I dunno really but as it happens, I just also coincidentally saw the show's theme song Good 'ol Boys (Waylon Jennings) being performed by a guy named Albi Beluli in some Podunk bar in the middle of the Catskills, surrounded by Hasidic Jews. And as cool and awesome as that is on it's own, is that I also now know that the actual lyrics in the song go "shorten the curves, flatten the hills", and not "blah blah the curves, fatten the goose". So actually, it was good timing that I waited to listen to this total 1982 soundtrack schmaltzfest this afternoon so that I can appreciate this track (narration by Sorrell Booke) in all it's glory and sing along out loud unashamedly and without looking and sounding like a total and absolutely inbred.
Here's hoping anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment