The Death of a Dick!

                                When a Dick Dies                  

DING-DONG, THE DICK IS DEAD! Moammar Gadhafi has been taken down!  Long time coming, right? Kick ass!!!  I am thrilled not only to learn that he’s dead, but to see that people can put death in perspective and view things case by case.  Death isn’t always a sad thing, and we aren’t obligated to feel anything but what we naturally feel.

When it was reported back in May that Osama Bin Laden was tracked down and killed, it was the first time I’d ever observed elation over a death.  I was thrilled that he was dead, and I was even happier to discover that people were not hiding their joy.  People generally feel obligated to show some sort of reverence when somebody bites it.  Everyone speaks of what a wonderful person he or she was; how this person was always there to lend a hand, always joyful and full of spirit.  It always made me think, “What happens when a dick dies?”  You never see the TV interview where neighbors take turns at the TV microphone, “You know, no one around here particularly cared much for Gary.”  Gary was a prick! I surely hated that Gary!  Gary will not be missed around here.  Gary stole my horseshoes!  Yes, when the history of Gary is written, it will be well documented that Gary was a cock.”

You’ve heard the phrase a million times, “Why do bad things only happen to good people?”  The answer is simple.  Because bad things CAN only happen to good people.  If it happened to a dick, it wouldn’t be a bad thing, now would it?  “Say did you hear about Hitler’s Jet Ski accident?  They’re not sure if he’ll make it.”  Say, let’s have a luau!

“Well, they executed Gacy last night.”  Seriously?  See if you can find my pointy hat from New Year’s Eve! 

“Boy that was a tough break for Stalin, having that cerebral hemorrhage and all.”  Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.  Throw on some Kool and the Gang!

I’m not saying we should wish death on anyone for any old reason.  We really shouldn’t secretly long for the painful demise of the guy who hit on your girlfriend at that wedding reception back in ‘97.  It’s not particularly rational to wish to end the life of the gal at Arby's who wouldn’t honor your expired coupon.  And it’s a bit much to anxiously await the day that you can urinate on the grave of the asshole driver who “wouldn’t let you over”

But we certainly don’t have to feel any false sense of respect for someone who deserves none.  Bad things CAN only happen to good people, and when they do, it sucks!  Far too many decent human beings are taken away long before their time. But dicks die, too!

Maybe I’m a bad guy for even mentioning this.  Maybe I’m going to hell for even bringing it up.  But, as my friend Jim Higgins used to say, “It’s not like I’m not going to know anybody.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIAo-iFbVe4 

Song Assassin! The Last Song.

Edward Bear was a Toronto based Canadian pop-rock group, formed originally in 1966 by Larry Evoy and Craig Hemming.  Their band name is derived from A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh, whose "proper" name is Edward Bear.
The band had its biggest hit in 1972, when "Last Song" charted at #1 in Canada and peaked at #3 in the U.S. Billboard Hot 100.^[1] It was awarded a gold disc in March 1973 for selling over one million copies by the Recording Industry Association of America.

"The Last Song" is a tale of obsession, stalkery, and stupidity.

Here's the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1ievU49zAs 

The Last Song

Did you know I go to sleep and
Leave the lights on?  Sissy!
Hoping you'd come by and know
that I was home and still awake

Just a couple of lines into the song and we

Can already see that this guy is pathetic.
But two years go by and still my light's on

Really?  Two things:  1. how many years do you

suppose will have to pass for him to realize what

we have in two lines of a song? Did he say at the beginning, "Ok, I'll give this thing two years and then we'll see where we're at." And 2.  Does he jump in and change the light bulb every time it burns out, or is he some kind of  modern day Edison who has developed the everlasting bulb?  What happens if the bulb burns out after he’s fallen asleep with it still on?  What if the person he is so creepily obsessed with happens to pass by during that short window of time where the bulb has burned out and Edward Bear has nodded off.  That person would then feel as though Edward Bear no longer cares.  This would be a tragedy.

This is hard for me to say but it is all that I can take

Had enough, have you?  What was the deal breaker?

It's the last song I'll ever write for you

Is this to imply that you have written others?  What

were those called?  “The first song?”  Perhaps “Here’s

another Song,” maybe “Time to change the light bulb” or who could forget, “Are you listening to any of my fucking songs?”
It's the last time that I'll tell you just how much I really care  Hey listen, Edward…That would be great!
This is the last song I'll ever sing for you

Again, much appreciated.  It’s not that I don’t dig your vocal stylings, it’s just that my kids are a little weirded out.
You'll come looking for the light
And it won't be there Edward, do you really

think she’ll come looking for the light?  Really?

Come on man, I would think that after TWO YEARS

it’s pretty well determined that this electric vigil you keep referring to bears no significance to your prey.

But I love you. Do you really?
Oh yes I do. Really?
Yes I do

All the times that I spent waiting
wondering where you are.  You know, I could

Probably find the number of a decent therapist.

Always knew the time would come
When I would start to wonder why

And you figured this time would come somewhere

around the two year mark?
Now the time is here
I don't know where you are

Thank God for that.
So I'll write you one more song
But it's the last time that I'll try

That’s what you said last time, when you

wrote that ballad about changing the light

bulb.

Repeat chours:

It's the last song I'll ever write for you
It's the last time that I'll tell you
Just how much I really care
This is the last song I'll ever sing for you
You'll come looking for the light
And it won't be there
But I love you
Oh yes I do
Yes I do

It's the last song I'll ever write for you
It's the last song I'll ever write for you
It's the last song I'll ever write for you
It's the last song I'll ever write for you

If this song was written as some sort of joke,

as a way to mock some loser, then hat’s off

to Edward Bear!  I mean, after all, naming your

band after Winnie The Pooh, is kind of funny.  Who knows, maybe there’s a lost recording out there of

Sebastion Cabot reading this classic.  If not, there certainly should be.  My initial thought though, is if there had been a movie written about this song back in 1972, it would have ended with Susan Blakely, Linda Purl, or Karen Valentine getting murdered.  Or perhaps with Martin Sheen sticking a gun in his mouth.

Pregnant or...???

On stage, a lot of things are said spontaneously, or “off the cuff.”  It’s part of the job.   Sometimes these quips are the funniest part of your performance.  Other times they are the most awkward, embarrassing, non- sensical, or regrettable statements to fall out of your mouth.  It’s like the pitcher who throws the wrong pitch and knows it as soon as it leaves his hand, but can’t get it back.  Sometimes, one can put his foot in his mouth. 

If there were ever a stand-up comedy handbook, I think the first entry under the “don’ts” category would be “never ask a woman if she is pregnant” Anyone can make a mistake.  Hopefully they learn from it.  In my case it had to happen twice.

Incident number one:  I am working a club, second show Friday.  These are traditionally the worst shows of the week as audiences are as tired and as drunk as they can possibly be.  In many cases, these shows are not all that well attended either.  The case is usually this; the smaller the audience, the more we try to interact with them.  It’s pretty hard to just rattle off your material when there are fifteen people sitting in front of you at 11:30 on Friday night.  What I usually attempt is to weave bits in and out of the crowd play, try to find someone in the audience who can relate to the topic, and turn it into a conversation.  This particular night the topic was children; having kids, pregnancy, and parenthood.  I launch into a piece about how difficult pregnancy was for my wife, Beth.  I notice a younger woman nodding in agreement with a faint smile.  She “appears “to be about six months pregnant, average in size everywhere but the mid section, a bit of a disproportionate protuberance just above the beltline.  I motion to her, “you’re pregnant?”  She shoots me a cold stare.  I feel the air being sucked out of the room.  Things become awkward.  Even “late show Friday drunks” are picking up on the terror that is unfolding.  There is silence.  My mind races for a solution.  Then I take a shot, “I’m sorry, they just told me that there was someone here who was expecting a baby.  I thought that since you were playing along that it was you.  Where is the pregnant woman?”  Just then, as if God had decided to check out a late show at the Chuckle Hut, I heard a voice from just behind the lights, “It’s me,” she said.  I was saved!  I turned my attention to her, finished the parenthood piece, and satisfied the pissed off patron whom I’d incorrectly diagnosed.  Bullet dodged, Lesson learned.  I told myself then that I would never ever assume any woman to be with child, regardless of how she looks moves, speaks or behaves.  I should have listened.

Incident number two:  Another late show.  Another small crowd.  It’s mid-summer, ninety some degrees outside and the air conditioning is not functioning in the club.  They are tired, they are drunk, and they are sweating their asses off.  Seated up front, a few couples out on the town and dead center, an attractive lady in her early thirties sits uncomfortably in front of me as I labor through the set.  She is shifting side to side, up and down, fanning herself with her drink menu and noticeably not at ease.  She is on the thin side, except for a perfectly round ball under her shirt.  She has one arm over the back of the chair, and the other down at her side, bent at a ninety degree angle with her hand resting on the rotund belly, like an NBA All-star palming a Wilson.  This was unquestionably a mother to be, right?  I head down the same road, and when the topic of pregnancy is raised, and I feel the rest of the group is looking sympathetically at the young lady up front, I nod in her direction, you’re expecting?  As if to overstate the obvious.  After a long pause, I find myself on the receiving end of the dirtiest of dirty looks, “NO” She replies indignantly, and the tension fills the room.  I try to remain calm.  I recall the previous occurrence and play the same card that paid off some three years prior, ““I’m sorry, they just told me that there was someone here who was expecting a baby.  I thought that since you were playing along that it was you.  Where is the pregnant woman?”  Silence.  “Where is the couple that’s having the baby?”  Nothing.  The tension grows as I realize I have no more tricks in the bag.  I start to nervously ramble…with no support from the audience and certainly none from my fellow comedians who find this to be the most hilarious show they’ve ever witnessed.  “Maybe it’s me” I utter desperately.  "Boy, that would surely be hilarious." I  continued to run at the mouth hoping for another divine intervention.  “Hey remember in I Love Lucy when Ricky Ricardo was trying to find out who the pregnant lady was?  Remember, they gave him a note on stage and he started singing” I nervously transition into my best Desi Arnaz, in song, “We’re having a baby, my baby and me.”  As I continue to sing away, I’m thinking that maybe they’ve never seen that episode, “You see Ricky had to walk through the club and as he approached each woman she’d shake her head no to let him know it was not her.  Turns out, it was Lucy!  Can you belive that, ladies and gentlemen?  It was Lucy!  The joke was on Ricky!”  Nobody was going to let me off the hook as the Lucy/Desi comparison went over like a lead balloon.  I could hear the crickets as I tried in vain to escape the quicksand that had become my portion of the show.  I never got another laugh that night.  I slithered off the stage to a smattering of pity applause and made certain not to make eye contact with the lady up front.

This time I mean it.  NEVER AGAIN!  Never will I ever assume such a thing.  I don’t care if the woman in the audience has her water break at the waitress station, her husband is timing her contractions, and if I can see the head of the baby from the stage.  My comment will not be, “are you pregnant” but more something like “Excuse me but can you please keep your table talk down to a minimum?”  and for the record, It was a pretty damn good Desi Arnaz impression if I do say so myself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UPbOtpM5OQ

Song Assassin: Guest Blogger Tim Benker!

A guest assassin will skewer one of his favorites today.  The Blogger:  Tim Benker.  The song:  Steve Miller's "Take The Money And Run" 

I have known Mr. Benker for a long, long time.  He was my first comedy friend as we started out in the biz on the same day back in January of 1982.  Here he does a great job of picking apart this classic!

                 Here's the song!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTti_fYPiWY&feature=fvst

Take the Money and Run

"Take the Money and Run" is a song recorded in 1976 by the Steve Miller Band. A song about two young bandits, and featured on the album Fly Like an Eagle. The song peaked at #11 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100.

The song also shares the same basic chordal structure with Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" and Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London”

The lame story is not as big a mess as how the author attempts to tell it.

This is a story ‘bout Billy Joe and Bobby Sue

It is a story that starts by telling you that it is in fact, a story...the names in the story are quite androgenous so it is either about two hillbillies of undisclosed gender...that could be brother and sister... or it is about two southern lesbians

Two young lovers with nothing better to do

This could confirm the hillbilly brother and sister theory.

Than sit around the house, get high and watch the tube

Sounds like a full rich day for hillbillies

Here’s what happened when they decided to cut loose

They headed down to Old El Paso

Whoa...settle down you two!!  Cuttin loose in Old El Paso!!!  When I want to “cut loose”, I know Old El Paso is the first place I want to go...to buy more drugs, and to buy a jar of Salsa!

That’s where they ran into a great big hassle

When sung in the original recording, the line sounds like “they ran into a great big asshole”...I hear that and I envision them physically  with big bags of money and guns drawn running straight into a giant anus....that or getting into a car wreck with Newt Gingrich.

Billy Joe, shot a man while robbing his castle

I don’t think THEY ran into a great big hassle, the guy they robbed and shot was the one who had the great big hassle run into HIM...Billy Joe was the hassle-er. Also, I have been to El Paso a few times, and the only castles I ever saw was at the mini golf  place, or the mini hamburger restaurant.

Bobby sue, took the money and run

This is not a typo...Bobby Sue took the money, past tense and run...in present tense...She’s good, she managed to change tense in the middle of a single action...She could have “taken the money and ran”, but that would screw up the chorus....She could “take the money and runs” but that would sound like she stole diarrhea. The only thing we know for sure is Bobby Sue did indeed, run off with the money grammatically incorrect fashion..

Go, On take the Money and Run

This is a bold endorsement of the heinous and felonious actions of Billy Joe and Bobby Sue...Go on, shoot a man in cold blood, rob his castle, you have nothing better to do , Go on, take the money... take it!!! get the hell out of here...it’s okay!!

Go On take the Money and Run

The encouragement is repeated  in case the murderers didn’t think of this exit strategy themselves...then blasphemed:

OOO Lord! Go On take the Money and Run

Billy Mac is a detective down in Texas

Another bi-monikerred  southern guy enters the story...and in case of confusion, we get clarity on which state in the union Old El Paso is located.

You know he knows exactly what the facts is

Billy Mac does not know what the facts are, but he definitely knows what the facts IS....that the kind of detective he are. Or maybe he knows what a FAX is...even though they hadn’t been invented yet in 1976.

He ain’t gonna let those two escape justice

At least that’s what it says in his Texas detective oath

He makes his living off of other people’s taxes

This says to me, Billy Mac works for H&R Block on the side for extra money...

It’s in this verse where the author of the song does not take poetic license,  but rather, he is beaten by the poetic police and has his poetic license revoked. In an historical move, the author rhymes Texas, Facts is, justice and taxes...Could he have been with Billy Joe and Bobby Sue getting high while he wrote this verse?

He would have had better luck rhyming this verse had he started with “Bernie Mac has a defective pound of Tampax”

Bobby Sue, oh she slipped away

Well, you see, she escaped justice right there...

Billy Joe caught up the very next day

Another escapee...

They got the money, hey, you know they got away

Where the fuck is Billy Mac?? They got away! All his crap about letting those two escape justice is just that, crap! We need another detective for a missing person case..... Did Billy Mac just give up? Is he on another case? Or is the author holding out on us and secretly wrote a verse where Billy Joe and Bobby Sue come face to face with Billy Mac and they offer him a he chunk if he buried the guy they shot and to let them off the hook for robbery, and he took the deal  as long as his name  didn’t get another mention in the song...

They headed down south and they’re still running today

They started out in Texas and they headed down south from there...our fugitives are currently living in a penguin colony in Antactica, and are going nowhere,  much like the story in this song. Ooh, Lord!

Go On, take the Money and Run

Song Assassin: Diary

                                    Song Assassin:  Diary

The target for today is a sweet little ballad written by David Gates of the popular group, Bread.  “Diary” was released on April 22, 1972 and made it all the way to number 15 on the pop charts (say that last sentence in a Casey Kasem voice).  If you are not familiar with the song, or if you’d just like to hear it again, here’s where you can find it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24IfD-0VUu4

                                Diary

I found her diary underneath a tree.  Ok, we begin the song with carelessness.  She just left her diary underneath a tree?  Was this accidental?  Is she just that trusting?  Did she just think, “I’ll just leave my diary with my most private thoughts, here underneath this tree.”  I’m sure it will be fine.” And really, who actually keeps a diary?  Why the hell would you set yourself up for the humiliation of having some douchebag finding it and making a song about it?  I’ve never known anyone who had a diary.  The only people who kept diaries were TV characters… and I guess ladies in songs.

and started reading about me. Is that what you did, you pompous ass?  You started reading about YOU? I would think that her diary would be about HER!  Secondly, why would you just pick up her diary and start reading it, you dick?  You care so little about her right of privacy, and the fact that you are invading it, that you are telling everyone, IN SONG, that you are reading her diary?
The words she'd written took me by surprise.  Did they?
You’d never read them in her eyes. Really?  So you are not just an expert at reading other people’s personal stuff, you are also skilled at reading eyes?  Wow!  Why you ARE a catch, aren’t you? 
They said that she had found the love she waited for.
Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it. This should be your first clue, dumbass!  If she didn’t show you that you were the love she’d waited for, why would you believe that she was writing about you? The song should be over here, Dr Deduction!  She found the love that she’d waited for, but shows no indication, in her eyes or anywhere else, that she’s all that crazy about you. 

When she confronted with the writing there, kind of a weird combination of words.
simply pretended not to care. She PRETENDED not to care?
I passed it off as just in keeping with
her total disconcerting air is that what you did? You passed it off as just in keeping with her disconcerting air?

*Disconcerting air kind of sounds like another term for the aftermath of someone passing gas.  “What the hell is that, Bill? Was that you?  Dear God that is some disconcerting air!”

 “Obviously this chick’s crazy about me.  The fact that she admittedly ‘doesn’t show it’ means nothing.  She is writing about me in this diary that she left underneath the tree.  It’s all about me.  It’s that disconcerting air of hers that makes it look like she couldn’t give a rat’s ass about me.  You know those women and their disconcerting airs”
And though she tried to hide
the love that she denied,
wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it. Not to beat a dead horse here Chalmers, but it surely doesn’t appear that she has too much love to throw your way.  Denied or otherwise.
And as I go through my life, I will give to her my wife Wait, she’s your wife?  Are you really married to her or is this just the way you see things shaking down?  Does it say somewhere in this diary that she’s waiting for Mr. Privacy Invader to pop the question?

all the sweet things I can find. All the sweet things you can find?  So you are looking for sweet things?  And when you find them you will give them to her?  That’s so sweet!  Now put down her fucking diary!
I found her diary underneath a tree
and started reading about me. You still feel no guilt here, do you?  And so far, you still think this is all about you?
The words began stick and tears to flow. Ok, here we go.
Her meaning now was clear to see. NOW it’s clear to see?
The love she'd waited for was someone else not me. This is where the bells and whistles start going off like when someone said the secret word on Pee Wee’s Playhouse!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWnXN1FLR5o&feature=related  (forward to 1:47)

Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn't show it. Actually, I WOULD know it!

And as I go through my life, I will wish for her his wife. So now she’s HIS wife?  You’ve given up that easily?  I guess it’s time to go find another diary, carelessly left out somewhere for the world to read.  Certainly when you find it, it will undoubtedly be about you.
all the sweet things that she can find Oh I see, now that you have graciously bowed out, she must find the sweet things herself.  You’re on your own, bitch!  Find your own sweet things.  I was going to find them for you, my wife.  Whatever!
All the sweet things they can find.  “Ok, you know what? Why don’t you just get him to find them with you?  Your loss!”

Seems to me she left the diary out on purpose.  She was gambling on the possibility that he knew how to read.

Song assassin-The Night That The Lights Went Out In Georgia.

I would like to introduce a new segment to the blog. I call it “The Song Assassin” I will find the songs with the most nonsensical and/or ridiculous lyrics, and attack them.  It’s that simple. 
My first installment is a cute little ditty called "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" is a Southern Gothic song written by songwriter Bobby Russell and performed in 1972 by his then-wife Vicki Lawrence;
Recorded in late October 1972 in United/Western Studios on Sunset in Hollywood and released less than two weeks later in November 1972, the song centers around the older brother of the narrator.  Here’s the song if you’d like to play along:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6-4N0IPVh8

 The lyrics are as follows:

The night that the lights went out in Georgia

He was on his way home from Candletop. I was not able to ascertain where or what Candletop is.  I’m guessing a place where guys who appear in songs go.
Been two weeks gone and he thought he'd stop
At Web’s His favorite watering hole, no doubt

and have him a drink for he went home to her We will learn more of “her” later.
Andy Wolloe said hello.  Andy Wolloe, WO-LO
He said hi what's a doing, Wo? Wolloe’s nickname is “WO”
Said sit down I got some bad news that's gonna hurt. This, as opposed to the bad news that generally makes you feel fantastic!  Of course the bad news is gonna hurt.  It’s bad news, Wolloe!  Wolloe could have just said, “I’ve got some bad news”
Said I’m your best friend and you know that's right This is where he tells him that he’s his best friend, and follows it up with “and you know that’s right.”  Who is this guy that can’t just decide on his own who is best friend is?  What is he, Frankenstein?  “Yes, I want friend! Yes, I know that’s right!  Wolloe friend!”
But your young bride aint home tonight The bride of Frankenstein?
Since you been gone she's been seeing that Amos boy Seth Yes, bad news indeed.  His young bride has been banging Seth Amos while he was doing whatever he does in Candeltop.
He got mad and he saw red
Andy said boy don't you lose your head
Cause to tell you the truth I’ve been with her myself.  What?  Wolloe says in one breath, “Don’t lose your head” then follows that up with, “I’m actually hitting that as well” How does that make sense?  “Don’t get mad brother; I’m having intercourse with your wife, too.”  Yeah, that’ll calm him down.

Chorus:
That's the night the lights went out in Georgia The title of the song.
That's the night that they hung an innocent man.  Now this might make you think, why would hanging a man make the lights go out.  Had they electrocuted him, I could see how something like that might possibly happen depending on when in history, and where in Georgia this all went down.  And really the correct term is “hanged” right? And when they say “Georgia” do they mean the entire state?  All of Georgia suffered blackout conditions because some guy got unfairly lynched in the woods?
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the towns got bloodstains on his hand.  So the reason here to not trust a backwoods southern lawyer is because the judge in the town has blood stains on his hands?  I would choose not to trust him because he’s a backwoods southern lawyer.  How did the judge get blood stains on his hands?  Did he wash up before presiding?  That would be weird to be in court and then notice that the judge has blood stains on his hands.  I would be like, “What’s up with his honor?  Did he have a really bad nose bleed and he didn’t have any Kleenex or toilet paper at first and just put his hands up there to catch the blood?  I have actually had that happen, but I’ve always made sure that the blood was washed before returning to work.  This just makes me think that he doesn’t wash his hands ever before returning to work. 
Andy got scared and left the bar.  So Andy got scared?  How did he really envision this scenario going down?  He just told this guy that Seth Amos, and he himself were slamming his young bride while he was at good ol’ Candeltop.  Wolloe didn’t see any conflict on the horizon?
Walking on home cause he didn't live far.  It just makes sense that Andy lived walking distance from the bar.  You see
Andy didn't have many friends and he just lost him one.  So wait, Andy didn’t have many friends?  Go figure.  Why in the world do you suppose a stand-up dude like Andy Wolloe wouldn’t have many friends?
Brother thought his wife must’ve left town, why did brother immediately think that his wife must have left town?  Did brother assume that his wife would predict that dumbass Wolloe, or one of the countless other village idiots that she put out for, would blow the whistle? Then I could see her leaving town and finding another friendly berg in which to have sex with all the townfolk.
So he went home and finally found the only thing
Papa had left him and that was a gun.  He FINALLY found it.  How long do you suppose he looked for the thing?  It’s his house, and in it is the only thing that Papa had left him.  Why wouldn’t he instantly know where it was?  Hmm, now where do I usually keep the gun that my daddy left me?  Oh, there it is!  You know this stuff is always in the last place that you look.  I know you really don’t keep looking after you find something, but I’m serious.  I was not going to look anymore.  I said to myself, this is the last place I’m going to look and there’s the gun.  How do you like that?  FINALLY!  I FINALLY found it!
He went off to Andy’s house
slipping through the back woods quiet as a mouse Now if he’s “slippin’ through the backwoods” I would think that it would be difficult to be as “quiet as a mouse.”  The slipping, I would think, might make for some noise out there near Andy’s house.
Came upon some tracks too small for Andy to make.  “So” thought brother, “these footprints are kind of small.  They seem too small for Andy to make.  Or are they?  Maybe Andy has really small feet.  I never really looked at his feet.  Man he’s got really small feet.  I guess that probably means that Andy’s…well you know.  I suppose I do feel a slight bit better knowing that this guy was doing my old lady with smaller junk than mine.  I guess the joke’s on her.  Whore!
He looked through the screen at the back porch door
He saw Andy lying on the floor
in a puddle of blood and he started to shake.  Whenever I heard this part of the song, I thought they were saying “Andy started to shake” which made no sense because Andy, at this point, was seemingly deceased.  I later realized it was “and he started to shake”

The Georgia patrol was making their rounds
so he fired a shot just to flag em down.  Ok, really?  C’mon brother! The Georgia Patrol was making their rounds, and you are fully aware of their proximity.  You are holding a gun and standing over a recently murdered dude who was fornicating with your wife while you were at Candletop; and your first instinct is to fire the gun just to flag them down?  You deserve to die.  You deserve to freaking die!
And a big bellied sheriff why do all the southern sheriffs, except Andy Taylor, have to have big bellies? grabbed his gun and said
Why’d you do it? And when he asks “Why’d you do it?” he’s asking, “Why the hell did you shoot off the gun when we were driving by?”  You obviously knew we were making our rounds, dumbass!  I also picture the big bellied sheriff, if we are going to push the stereotype, holding a doughnut with his other hand.  He grabbed the gun with one hand, and held onto the doughnut with the other.

The judge said guilty in a make believe trial. Why was it a make believe trial?  Who was this judge?  King Friday the Thirteenth?  Who was the defense attorney, Winnie the Pooh? Where was the judge with the blood stains on his hands?  I would guess that he conducts court that is not just imagined.  Slapped the sheriff on the back with a smile and said
Suppers waiting at home and I got to get to it.  The wise judge spoke in a vernacular that the “big bellied sheriff” could understand.  “I’m going to eat food, big bellied sheriff.  I’ve to get to it so that I can eat it.”

Chorus  Yes, repeat the chorus here

They hung (I’m still pretty sure it’s hanged, though I think brother might misinterpret this purposely just to flatter himself, particularly when he compares himself to that pencil dick Andy Wolloe)

my brother before I could say
The tracks he saw while on his way
To Andy’s house and back that night were mine.  What?  Did she get there just a bit too late?  “Wait a minute, big bellied Sheriff, the tracks he saw while on his way to Andy’s house were mine!”  She is implying that she actually WAS going to say this.  “Those were not Andy’s footprints.  Andy actually does have really big feet…and everything else.  Cause to tell you the truth; I’ve been with him myself.”  
And his cheatin wife had never left town
and that's one body that’ll never be found
You see little sister don't miss when she aims her gun  and yes, little sister was apparently left a gun from dear old dad as well.  Little sister off’d Wolloe.  Her brother, just back from Candletop, gets executed for it.  Guy gets screwed over by his wife, his sister, and a backwoods southern lawyer.  Though the trial was make believe, his death was very real.  I don’t know who said it first, but the term, “Life’s a bitch and then you die” could not be more fitting.  Also no word on how long it took Com Ed to restore power in Georgia.

The Worst Joke Ever!

Jokes.  I love ‘em.  Whether it’s from someone’s act or just one of those old “street jokes” we hear from a friend.  I can surely appreciate a well crafted joke.  That said, I am known to equally hate the bad ones, the poorly constructed, devoid of foundation, hole filled attempts at comedy that make you wonder how this one has survived long enough to reach you.  I certainly understand that the ridiculous is often employed when a joke is told and there is certain license allowed for such things.  Most of the time, I just move on  and hope to never hear them again, but some are so god awful that I just can’t let go. The following is one that I probably heard first when I was in second or third grade, and I thought it was funny at the time.  It’s a sports joke and features the old “insert bad baseball team here” I’m certain it’s been told millions of times using one team or another.  I now wish to pick it apart for your enjoyment as well as my own. I know it’s just a joke, but this crime can no longer go unpunished.  Here it is:

Heard over the public address at Wrigley Field: “Will the lady with the nine lost children please come pick them up.  They’re beating the Cubs eleven to nothing.”

Okay, where to start?  There is a lady who brought nine children to Wrigley Field, and she lost them.  She lost all of them!  All nine kids!  She must have reported this to someone or the PA announcer would not have known that a “lady” had lost her nine children.  Now, how much time do you think had passed before these nine kids were discovered on the field playing against the Cubs?  At least long enough for them to rack up eleven runs.  These kids got onto the field and played an undetermined period of time against the Cubs and scored eleven times before anyone noticed that this was going on?    Who let them onto the field?  Where was the team that the Cubs were supposed to be playing?    Where were the umpires?  Did they call the balls and strikes?  Did the scoreboard operator record the tallies as these children had their way with the Chicago Cubs?  Did all the kids have gloves?  Did they have bats?  Where did they get bats?  How did the crowd react to this?  Why did the Cubs engage these missing children in a game of baseball when they had another game scheduled?  Why did this lady bring nine children to a game?  How did they all get away?  All of them!  She wasn’t able to keep even one in sight?  Why did it take the PA announcer to call to her attention to the fact that these kids were on the field and beating the Cubs 11-0?  Are they all her kids?  How can a woman stupid enough to lose sight of every one of nine kids afford ten tickets to a major league baseball game?  How did she get these kids to the game?  Did the radio and TV announcers call the play by play?  Did any of them during the broadcast say, “Hey why do you suppose the Cubs are playing against nine children out there instead of the Padres?”  At one point did they have to say, “We go now to the bottom of the third.  The missing children six, the Cubs nothing.”  Did the Cubs manager have to make calls to the bullpen as these youngsters feasted on Cubs pitching?  Did anyone wonder at anytime during this curious exhibition when the actual game would start?  What would happen if one of the nine kids were to be injured?  Was there another missing child somewhere that could serve as a replacement or would these kids who have built up a healthy lead of eleven runs, have to forfeit?  How horrible for them should that happen.  I just wonder how this story could be true.  Then again, it’s just a joke and yes, the worst joke ever.