Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Sunny, with a chance of a Hurricane

For those who had always thought that "The Jive Five" referred to Bush 43, Cheney, Rove, Limbaugh and Beck, here's a link to the great doo-wop group
by that name and their greatest hit - their only hit, truth to tell - the wonderful "My True Story." 

Lyrics, if you please:

Cry, cry, cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Cry, cry, cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh

There is a story 
That I must tell
Of two lovers
That I bewail
Now they must cry, cry
Cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Their blues away
(their blues away)

Her name was Sue yeah
His name was Earl
His love was Lorraine
She's a wonderful girl
But they must cry, cry
Cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Their blues away
(Their blues away)

Love will make you happy
And love will make you cry
Love will make the tears fall
When your lover says goodbye

And then you'll cry, cry
Cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Your blues away
(your blues away)

This story ends yeah
It was no lie
Names have been changed dear
To protect you and I

But we must cry, cry
Cry whoa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Our blues away
(Cry cry cry)
Mmm (whoa-uh our blues away)
We must cry
(Cry cry cry whoa-uh our blues away)

The song brings to mind two thoughts:  a) the old joke by Alan King: "When was the last time you met a little boy named Earl?"  It's been years for me.  All guys named Earl have at least a touch of grey and a twinkle in the eye.  Sue, Earl and Lorraine.  Clearly not a song written in this century.

2) We might get a hurricane (official Baltimore pronunciation:  HAIR-a-kin) named Earl later this week.  During this time, we all demonstrate our loyalty to our favorite television meteorologist by loudly repeating their forecast in lunchrooms, bars, holding tanks, and other places where friends gather.  Do not try to tell a true believer in Marty Bass that Tom Tasselmyer is only calling for a drop of rain.  When Marty puts out the call to "git out the umbrellas!," his adherents run for the coat closet like that English BP guy ran home for a yacht race. We hope that Earl will decide to spend his time with Lorraine down there where SpongeBob lives and leave us alone.  Otherwise we will cry, cry, cry, and we don't need that right now.  

Do we, Sue? 

I think we should.

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