Archive | 4:37 pm

Of Love, Grease, and The Big Bopper. (Sounds dirty, just a little.)

13 Nov

from February 4, 2008

It is so hard writing a blog when you want to write about your coworkers but they all read the blog. How can I declare all my innermost loves and hates if they are all reading this? How can I bare my heart to the one who means the most to me, alas, from afar? To look at her, to desire her, to want her and need her. For my heart yearns, my soul searches, my ass itches. This is all bullshit by the way, but you get the point. How can I write shit about people when they are going to read it?

I could go down the X Y Z route:

So I was talking to X in the hallway about Z when Y came up and said blah blah blah…

Unbelievably, using A B and C gives the same poor result:

A came up to me and we were talking about how I need to talk to B about her fat ass when C came in and belched salami gas and …

 And J K and L would just give it all away since my coworker’s names begin with J K and L.

So I experimented with codenames: Super Quark, Captain Peacock, and Lady Woman. “Who,” I figured, “would put two and two together and figure out who I was talking about?” Turns out I couldn’t put two and two together. I actually forgot who was who! Even worse, I forgot who I was supposed to be because I even gave myself a codename. For the record, I was either McMurdo Sound or The Big Bopper Jr. (“Helllooooo baaaaabbbbyyyyy.”) Oh baby that’s what I like! (Of course you know this song- Chantilly Lace, written by the Big Bopper and performed some time before he died (duh) in that plane crash.

FEBRUARY 3rd, 1959:

RITCHIE VALENS: I don’t think this plane is safe. That wing is held together by duct tape.

BUDDY HOLLY: I’m with Ritchie. Maybe we should catch a flight in the morning.

THE BIG BOPPER: What!? Don’t you know who I am, bitches? I am The Fucking Big Bopper! King of the world! I am rich and young and I’m never going to die! Now get on that plane and find me some hoes! I need some stank on my hang low!

BUDDY HOLLY: Don’t hit me again, Mr. Bopper!

(Is it insensitive of me to write this almost 60 years to the day after they died? Yeah, probably. So what?)

Anyway, few people are aware of the sheer arrogance of J.P. “Big Bopper” Richardson. He was the first porn star to make it in the music industry and he kept performing under his porn name. What, you thought he called himself the Big Bopper because of his music?  Yeah, right, and they call me “Mr. Big Pants” because of my waist.

The Big Bopper was a thug who routinely beat Ritchie Valens both off- and on-stage. Valens was regularly hospitalized and missed the entire tour of Tupelo Mississippi because of a fractured pelvis inflicted upon him when the Big Bopper threw him an amplifier on top of him as he slept. During a stop in New Orleans the Big Flopper, Chopper, whatever, pounded Valens with a saxophone to the tune of Dixie. In the summer of 1958 The Big Stopper threatened to cut off Valen’s tongue and make him sing out of his butt.

Buddy Holly was a classic example of “beaten spouse syndrome” and often simply cowered when in the presence of the Bopper.


(The Big Whopper, or whatever he called himself, performed most of this song while pretending to be on the phone. This is supposed to be his side of a conversation.)

Hello baby, yeah, this is the Big Bopper speaking
Oh you sweet thing
Do I what
Will I what
Oh baby you know what I like

Yes, he refers to himself as “The Big Bopper.” What a dick!

But you have the genius and sheer poetry of lyrics like “Do I what? Will I what?” What the Hell is he talking about?

 Chantilly lace and a pretty face
And a pony tail hanging down
That wiggle in the walk and giggle in the talk
Makes the world go round
There ain’t nothing in the world like a big eyed girl
That makes me act so funny, make me spend my money
Make me feel real loose like a long necked goose
Like a girl, oh baby that’s what I like

Ah, I get it- he likes girls. No homo.

 What’s that baby
But, but, but, oh honey
But, oh baby you know what I like

Ah, now the subtext is clear. The girl won’t do something he wants her to do. This is the 1950’s. He must mean “heavy petting.” If this were 2008 it would mean anal sex.


What’s that honey
Pick you up at 8 and don’t be late
But baby I ain’t got no money honey
Oh alright baby you know what I like


Compare this with the 2005 Kanye West classic, “Gold digger”:

“Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger, but she ain’t messin with no broke niggers.”

 From Wikipedia, which I personally detest but use it when I am too lazy to do real research and don’t care if the info is right or horribly horribly wrong:

The first verse describes the protagonist being sucked in by a lady’s beauty, and unable to resist when the costs of being with her escalate.

The description of the ‘gold digger’ hints at her taste for the finer things (but oddly enough the protagonist is attracted to her for it, showing that the ‘victims’ here aren’t so unwilling after all).

 Later, we see the charm wear off as he is being taken advantage of.  She obliges him to help out all of her kids and all of their friends at his expense.



The second verse generalizes and discusses the long-term ‘trap’ where a gold digger gets a man to father a child, locking him in for child support to spend on herself, while not having to actually stay with the man.

In the third verse, West addresses himself to a female listener, first assuring her that he isn’t talking about HER, of course (I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs). West tells the ‘gold-digger’ that when that hopeful and ambitious broke man finally “gets on,” he is very likely to “leave your ass for a white girl.”

Can anyone argue that Kanye West ripped off The Big Plopper, Limp Whopper, whatever?

But I digressed again. As I usually do. I better reread this to see what I was talking about. Gimme a second……………………… got it. “It is so hard writing a blog when you want to write about your coworkers but they all read the blog.”

But I’d rather make fun of dead rock stars.

Elvis once said “Only the only thing worse than watching a bad movie is being in one.”

And he should know.

In “Change of Habit,” 1969, he starred as “Dr. Edward Pelvis,” a hip psychotherapist simultaneously wooing a nun played totally unconvincingly by Mary Tyler Moore and curing a young autistic girl by slapping her around. Yes, by slapping her around. There are plenty of scenes of Moore and her hip nun friends getting involved in civic events, scenes of Pelvis and Moore picnicking, and plenty of scenes of Pelvis slapping the poor autistic girl while saying “I love you.” Slap! “I love you.” Slap! I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! SEE FOR YOURSELF!

TRIVIA: This is the only feature film starring Elvis Presley which wasn’t released theatrically in Finland. Those Fins, always getting left out. Did you know that only last week they found out that Rosebud was Citizen Kane’s sled?

Regular readers of this blog know that I love the movie Grease. What isn’t to love? I still have a poster of Didi Conn under a pile of oily rags in my trunk.

Here are samples of dialogue from Grease:

Vince: Hi, I’m Vince Fontaine, I’m judging the dance contest.
Marty: I don’t think I’m entered.
Vince: A knockout like you? What’s your name?
Marty: Marty.
Vince: Marty what?
Marty: Maraschino. You know, as in cherry.

Danny: Oh, bite the weenie, Riz.
Rizzo: With relish.

Sandy: My parents want to invite you over for tea on Sunday.
Danny: I don’t like tea.
Sandy: [laughing] You don’t have to drink tea.
Danny: I don’t like parents.

CLASSIC!!!!!!!!! BRAVO!!!!!!!!!!!

But I’m really riffing on Grease because of Jeff Conaway. (That and the fact that this is one of Super Quark’s favorite films. Or was it Lady Woman? See why I dropped the codenames?)

Jeff Conaway is best known as Bobby Wheeler from Taxi, the guy who portrayed a struggling actor. This while Tony Danza was around. Go figure. Anyway, while performing the song Go Greasy Lightening! Jeff Conaway suffered an injury.

GO GREASY LIGHTENING LYRICS: (Warning! Explicit Homosexual Content)

Well this car is systematic, hydromatic, ultramatic
Why, it could be Greasey Lightnin’!
We’ll get some overhead lifters and some four barrel quads, oh yeah
Keep thrustin’! Keep pelvis thrustin’!
Fuel injection cut off and chrome plated rods, oh yeah
I’ll get her ready, I need to go to beddy!
With a four-speed on the floor, they’ll be waitin’ at the door
You know that ain’t rocks when we’ll be gettin’ lots of cocks

Go Greasy Lightnin’!

We’ll get some purple pitched tail lights and thirty inch fins, oh yeah
A palomina dashboard and duel-muffler twins, oh yeah
With new boosters, plates and shocks

The guys’ll want to please us with a big huge penis
I can finally get a job!
Go Greasy Lightnin’!

It was during this song that Jeff Conway was dropped on the floor and injured his back. This led to a dependence on pain killers and then a crippling addiction that got him a gig on Celebrity Rehab, which also features such “stars” as wrestler Joanie Laurer and some guy named “Shifty.” It doesn’t seem to take much to be a celebrity when someone who came in fourth on American Idol is also on the bill.

The Grease Curse claims another victim! First was Olivia Newton-John, who was deported back to Australia shortly after the premiere. She was followed by Dinah Manoff, who was killed in an underwater skiing accident (don’t ask) and was replaced by a clone on Empty Nest. John Travolta became a scientologist because of this curse.

And now with more from The Big Bopper:


And the man keeps sayin´ ´Do you take this woman
to be your awful wedded wife?´ Heh, heh

And then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!

Ah, honey, what am I doin´ here in the first place?
You knooooooow I don´t go for this marraige bit!
I was only kiddin´! Hahahahahahaha
And there´s your daddy sittin´ over there with a shotgun
layin´ across his lap
And a big smile on his ugly face.
And the man keeps sayin´ ´Are you gonna take this woman or aintcha?´

Well, then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!

Honey, what´s this jazz about Love, Honor, and Obey?
That cat´s talkin´ to me! Heheheh
And look at all these good lookin´ bride maids standin´ around, heh
Hellllllo, baaaby!
And the man in charge keeps sayin´ ´Looky here,
do you take this woman or dontcha?´

Well, then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!

And the man keeps sayin´ ´Look here, do you take this woman or dontcha?´
And I say ´Partnah, I don´t believe I do. Let me outa here

That plane didn’t go down fast enough! New forensic evidence shows that the Flip Flopper was at the controls of the plane, sans pants, as it crashed. Buddy Holly was trying to make a parachute out of used ketchup packets and Ritchie Valens was unconscious due to being whacked on the head with the Fig Focker’s guitar, El Kabong style. As Detective Parker Simmons noted, “it was a wild scene in that airplane.”

And for the record, J K and L, it is up to you to work out which was Lady Woman, Captain Peacock, and Super Quark. As for me, I think I’ll stick with “Dr. Edward Pelvis.”


It is 2008. Who else would write about The Big Bopper?

“Change of Habit” is one of the worst Elvis films. It is not nearly as fun as “Clambake,” which features the hit “Do the Clam.”

And lastly, did you guys really expect me to know Kanye West?


13 Nov

from January 31, 2008

I added William Shatner as a MySpace buddy. I am friends with Captain Fucking Kirk! Shit yes I cursed! Fuck it dude, this is Fucking Kirk! And yes I am capitalizing that F. Fuck yes!

The guy is, let’s say, not a thespian. (Nor a lesbian, for that matter.) Frankly, he acts like he is a graduate of the Adam West school of acting. Coincidentally, Adam West is a graduate of the William Shatner School of Acting. (“Who. Is. This. Nefarious. Evildoer?”) Go figure.

But here’s the catch- he sends out, no joke, 3 or 4 bulletins a day. Here’s a sample:

Behind the Scenes at my Details Magazine Shoot
Resend: Behind the Scenes at My Details Magazine Photoshoot
Meet my official Stand In Phil
Meet David who plays my new Priceline Sidekick “No Fee”
Meet My Horse Kelvin
My Early Birthday Celebration! Peak Oil Party! FREE!
(Sorry, that was Michelle.)
More Behind the Scenes of My Priceline Shoot with No Fee!

But it is William Fucking Shatner, man! The guy who saw a man on the wing! “There’s a man on the wing!” The guy who got stuck in the Twilight Zone waiting for the fortune teller to let him leave “Can we leave tomorrow?” This is The Captain of The Fucking Star Trek who laid every green-tited bitch in the Antares Nebula! (Whoa, got carried away. But it’s Shatner!)

So I am going to read every damn one of his stupid bulletins.

William Fucking Shatner!

Meanwhile, more about ME- My Entertainment.

Recently MySpace screwed up and erased my blog views from 705 to 0. Not that I cared as long as the blogs were OK. To your dismay, I’m sure, they are fine. Sorry, those pearls of wisdom are still there. But I didn’t really care, even though my six readers (counting the possibly fictional Mr. Know-It-All and Jennifer, who may or may not be disgusted by me) actually checked out the blog over 700 times. But here’s the thing- they “fixed it,” I think, and now I have 1787 views. I had 16 views since the account got wiped, so I should have 721, total. Somehow, I was given 1068 extra views.

Unless someone out there wants to admit to viewing my blog over 1000 times today. Marc, I just realized that I don’t know what you do all day. Was it you? WAS IT?  Or was it Kathy? She does nothing at work all day but order t-shirts and bitch about Mazzella. WAS IT YOU?

But maybe, just maybe, could it be, WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER?

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