Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Bad Dog Cafe' started by RottenTheCat, Dec 15, 2019.
i cant read that
I can't either. The only thing harder to read than white scriptface type on black background is white scriptface type on black background that's small and pixellated on a screen. I managed to read enough that I'd like to see more. I like Night Before Christmas parodies.
I could only make out the first line ... it was something like "There once was a man from Nantucket" .... I wonder what the rest of it is about?
I can't read it either, but I like the title. I do notice "Grateful Dead" in the poem, so it will be interesting if someone can transcribe this.
type is too small, but after zooming in, the subtitle is:
"How to hate Les Pauls while getting another SG" and somewhere in there, Jerry Garcia is Santa Claus. too hard on old eyes. There, I said it.
Here's one I wrote back in 2003.
A Guitar Christmas
T'was the night before Christmas...the guitars in their cases:
Two Strats, a Tele, and Jazz and P basses
The Twin Reverb's tubes were now cold to the touch
The floor littered with pedals, guitar cords and such
The Bassman's pilot lamp also was cool
It caught a glint of the moonlight and looked like a jewel
The Christmas tree sparkled with the light of the moon
It knew that Saint Nick would be stopping by soon
And I, in my bedroom, taking a snore,
Lay dreaming of Jaguars and Mustangs galore
There were Strats from the 50s, and real Nocasters
And there I was, sitting in with the blues guitar masters
Mac Morganfield ("they call me Muddy") was there
He sang "Good Lookin' Woman" and "Mud In Your Ear"
Mr. Williams, who likes to be known as Big Joe
Got down with his nine-string on "Baby, Please Don't Go"
Roy Buchanan showed up, and ooh, Buddy Guy
They were loving their git-tars and making 'em cry
Stevie Ray stopped by 'cause he was in town,
Then Hendrix played Red House, and burned the house down
And then, a loud THUMP! and I jumped out of bed
Did I really hear that, or was it all in my head?
I paused... and then faintly: hoof-beats and jingles
"Good Lord," I thought, "Santa is up on my shingles!"
I got to my feet and I sneaked out the door
And peered through the darkness down to the first floor
There was somebody down there! And then I thought, "Criminy,
This stuff about Santa coming down through the chimney
Has got to be hogwash..." and that's when I spied
The boots, beard, and red suit. Saint Nick was inside!
He opened his bag and placed gifts 'neath the tree
Then turned to depart, but what did he see?
The Fender Twin Reverb, and tweed guitar case
He put down his bag with a smile on his face
He flipped a few switches and strapped on a Strat,
Lit up a Camel, and took off his hat
The tubes heated up...but ol' Santa was hotter
Than July in Texas, or Steve Tyler's daughter
Now nobody smokes in my house, and that's that
But Saint Nick was SMOKIN' on the Camel and Strat!
He played "Beck's Bolero" and "Blue Suede Shoes"
He did "Little Wing," "White Room," and "Hoodoo Man Blues"
And when he was finished, he took off the Strat,
Switched off the amp, and put on his hat
He grabbed his bag, and faster than you can say, "Jiminy
Cricket," he disappeared straight up the chimney
Again I heard hoof-beats and jingles up there
And off they flew into the cool Christmas air
And I heard him exclaim as they drove out of sight,
"Merry Guitar Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
T'was the morning of Christmas, and I crawled out of bed
I ate a few aspirin for my poor aching head
And that's when I remembered ol' Santa's jam session
Nobody'd believe it, so there'd be no confession
I took out my Strat, and laughed at my dream
Of Saint Nick, in my house, playing Hendrix and Cream
Am I losing my mind? Going crazy, or what?
Then I saw, at the headstock: A cigarette butt.
and a happy new year
Shame it's illegible as it would probably be a good read.
That's terrific! I used to have kids write NBC parodies during the week before Christmas break. It was fun, easier to concentrate than regular school stuff, and some of them came out really good.
I wrote this one one year while they were working on theirs:
A Christmas Eve Gig
‘twas the night before Christmas, and down at the bar,
the Teles were twangin’; that’s how Teles are.
The wife and the kids were all home, gone to bed,
and I was out giggin’ with old Drummer Ed.
There was smoke on the water and beer on the floor,
and most of the customers went out the door.
They had presents to wrap and stockings to stuff,
and if they’d come to hear us, then they’d heard enough.
So we played “Chestnuts Roasting,” got ready to close.
I’d cased up my Tele, when old Eddie goes,
“Hey, do you hear them sirens?” And I said I did
(in the past, if we’d heard that, we’d’ve run off and hid.)
And they kept getting louder, there were lots of them, too,
(too late to run now, if they’re after you,)
and then we heard a crash, and we heard some glass shatter,
and we sprang to the door to see what was the matter.
And there, in the door of this bar, of all bars,
was a drunk, in a wreck, with eight shiny cop cars!
The drunk stumbled out, and yelled, “Honey, I’m home!”
As the cops put the cuffs on, he said, “Lea’ me alone.
“Don’t you know that it’s Christmas, and it’s time to think
about headin’ for home? But let’s have a drink!
“I love Christmas!” he said, with a smile on his face,
“with these blue and red lights all over the place!”
The cops were excited, and maybe too rough.
They reached for their nightsticks and tazers and stuff.
They all looked like they were in no mood for games.
And the drunk, cuffed and stumbling, called them all names:
“Hey Ratfink, and Ninny, and Poopface, and Buzz,
Yo Do-nut, and Dogbreath, Hey Copper and Fuzz!
You can’t do this to me, you know that, because
it’s the night before Christmas, and I’m Santa Claus!”
The drunk tried his darnedest to raise up a riot,
but the cops overwhelmed him, and made him be quiet.
Me and Ed stood and watched as the cops milled around,
and we tried to keep packing with minimal sound.
And while one cop was reading the drunkard his rights,
he said “Merry Christmas to you guys, and Have a Good Night!”.
--Parrish the Thought
Roses are red
Christmas Violets are green
I love the Grateful Dead,
But Phish ain’t my scene...
dunno if that one is better... if not I'll have to manually fix things
IT'S A BIT TOO SMALL, SORRY
I’ve loved every one here. But this might be my favourite.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
No lie, Old Eyes. If you decide to do the audio version, I can't hear either.
Online, Oncredit, Onward...
A Helix, a Fractual and Kemper alas!
To get rid of the glass!!