Just be glad I don’t drink…

Burger King, Burger King,
Does whatever a Burger King does,
Spins a web, any size,
Catches thieves at Burger King,
Look out, he’s a Burger King,

Is he strong, Burger King?
He’s got radioactive blood,
Can he swing, from a web?
Take a look at Burger King,
Look out, he’s a Burger King,

In the chill of night,
At the scene of a crime,
Like a beam of light,
He arrives at Burger King,

Burger King, Burger King,
Friendly radio Burger King,
Wealth and fame, listen Bud,
Burger King is his reward,
To him, life is a just like flies up,
Overhead just in time Bud,
You’ll find the Burger King!

Intimidated

For what it is, Skepta’s Shartdarn ain’t bad. It’s definitely got something. But get a load of the sample – taken from a caller to a British talkback radio show – at 1:50…

A bunch of YOUNG men, ALL dressed in black, dancing extremely aggressively on stage. It made me feel SO intimidated and it’s just NOT what I expect to see on prime time TV.

Seriously lady, if an image of people dancing on your TV makes you feel intimidated then you need to take a good hard look at your life.

Pimp-Stick Good, Geopolitics Bad

And while we’re on the subject of my execrable music taste and Russia, how about this offering from cane-wielding 80s poison-king (not my phrase, but too good to pass up) Andrew Eldritch and the Sisters of Mercy?

The second half of the song is apparently about Eldritch’s conviction that West Berlin should be abandoned and handed over to the Soviets, which, as the song was released in 1987 only two years before the fall of the Berlin Wall, shows that however good he was wielding a pimp-stick he really wasn’t so hot on geopolitics. Or keeping his band together for that matter. In fact about the only member/former member of Sisters who doesn’t loath Eldritch with a passion is Doktor Avalanche, and Doktor Avalanche is a drum machine. Oh well, the music is good. In my opinion.

Worms

I was musing on the historical origins of the rod of Asclepius in the shower this morning (as you do) and suffered another one of those attacks where my brain produces something completely awful and then won’t let me rest until I inflict it upon a candid world. So it is with great sorrow, regret and apology that I present the following vicious and unjustified attack upon the musical legacy of the Beach Boys. I am so very sorry…

Worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Guinea worm, worm, worm, I gotta worm!
I gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Messing with my brain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m in real bad pain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m sick of all the healers with their same old tricks,
I gotta find a new Doc with a twisty stick!
I gotta worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Guinea worm, worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
Messing with my brain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!
I’m in real bad pain! Worm, guinea worm, I gotta worm!

Sorry.

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