How’s exactly is this going to benefit the little guy??? We all know what a joke trickle down was. Read more at alotfromlydia.wordpress.com.
Month: April 2017
Snapshot #161
I took this one of Studly Doright while we waited in line to ride the Dinosaur attraction at Disney’s Animal Kingdom park. I call this, “I Asked You to Look Scared, Not Constipated!”
Sing It, Sister
I recently made fun of Studly Doright’s misunderstanding of a song’s lyrics in this post: https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/04/18/shes-a-what/
I have to confess, though, to also being a mangler of lyrics. Most recently, Studly and I were driving to Orlando on a Sunday morning for a rendezvous with his middle sister and her family at DisneyWorld.
We were flipping back and forth between the 60’s and 70’s stations on Sirius/XM satellite radio (perhaps the greatest invention of my lifetime) when one of my all-time favorite songs popped up: Lady Marmalade by Patti LaBelle.
Even though the song’s been covered a couple of times, Patti’s version is the best in my humble opinion.
I was singing along, “Coochie coochie ya ya,” and dancing in my seat when Studly asked if I had any idea what I was singing.
“Well, kind of. A lot of it’s in French. Or Cajun. Or something,” I said.
So I decided to Google the lyrics. Guess what, the words “coochie coochie” don’t appear even once. I’m shocked.
Interesting fact: The line, “voulez vouz coucher avec moi ce soir” which translates to “do you want to sleep with me tonight,” was deemed too scandalous for American ears and had to be changed to “do you want to dance with me tonight,” when performed on television in the U.S.
Lady Marmalade Lyrics
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister
He met Marmalade down in old New Orleans
Struttin’ her stuff on the street
She said “hello,
Hey Joe, you wanna give it a go?” mmm, mmm
Itchi gitchi ya ya da da
Itchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha-choca-lata ya ya
Creole lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up
The boy drank all her magnolia-wine
On the black satin sheets
oh I swear he started to freak
Itchi gitchi ya ya da da
Itchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha-choca-lata ya ya
Creole lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Hey, hey, hey
Touching her skin feelin’ silky smooth
The colour of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roar until it cried, more, more, more
Now he’s back home doing nine to five
Living his grey flannel life
But when he turns off to sleep
Old memories creep, more, more, more
Itchi gitchi ya ya da da da
Itchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha-choco-lata ya ya
Creole lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole lady Marmalade
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Itchi gitchi ya ya da da
Itchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha-choco-lata ya ya
Itchi gitchi ya ya here
(Writer/s: KENNY NOLAN, ROBERT CREWE
Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind)
Snapshots #156, 157, 158, 159, and 160
Took this one at Disney’s Animal Kingdom. Let’s call it, “You Meet the Nicest Animals on Safari.”
The National Enquirer to Trump’s Rescue
The National Enquirer is basically fodder for fools. If you get your news from them, you’re not getting news. But let Lydia from her blog, alotfromlydia.wordpress.com tell you.
Blow
Blow
By Leslie Noyes (with Studly’s assistance)
It was a riotous Friday night here at Doright Manor. I was sitting in my chair trying to come up with ideas for this blog, and Studly Doright was sitting next to me in his chair watching Storage Wars on the telly and occasionally reaching over to fondle my, um, upper arm.
No decent writing ideas were coming to me, so in desperation I turned to Studly and said, “Give me a word.”
Now, I cannot type what he said because sometimes his mother reads this blog.
“I can’t use that word,” I said. “It’s not that kind of blog.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you needed the word for your blog. That changes everything.”
So he gave me another, equally vulgar word.
“Last chance, smarty pants,” I said. “Just give me a decent word.”
See the title of this post? Yep, that was half of what he said. I don’t know why I bother.
Snapshot #155
This one’s called, “Guess Where I Am Today!”
Place Value
Place Value
by Leslie Noyes
Numbers on a line:
Finite representation of infinity with
No omega and a debatable alpha.
One truly is the loneliest number.
If whole numbers claim the left side of the decimal, do broken ones occupy the right?
Why are there no oneths?
The asymmetry is worrisome, yet the pleasantly sibilant sound of thousandths compensates.
What’s your favorite number?
Mine is five and three hundred sixty-eight thousandths; although, I’ve never had it printed on a sports jersey.
Finding the Words, the Beautiful Words
I cannot love this enough! Thank you, Jan Wilberg! Redswrap.wordpress.com.
This morning I wanted to remember Kahlil Gibran’s writing about children because I have been feeling lately like a life raft where all the people who were hanging on have swum away but they don’t want me to pull up anchor yet because they might need to come back and it was that feeling of needing to know my place that made me get up and find my old copy of The Prophet.
Mine was given to me by a strange friend in college. She wrote long quotes inside the front and back cover, things she thought had meaning to the two of us. I think she was a little in love with me. She was very short with long hair, parted in the middle. She lived two doors down in my dorm with a woman who was also my friend and who played the guitar late into the night…
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Burn, Baby, Burn
Burn, Baby, Burn
by Leslie Noyes
There’s a fire out in the pasture, so sound the great alarm, it’s crackling down the corn rows, now threatening the barn.
We’d fight the fire with water, but the well dried long ago, now it’s too late to save the farm, and we’ve no place to go.
So hurry, save the chickens, the horses, and the rest, so they can perish another day when we fail the next big test.
Dire warnings were extended by experts in the know, but the idiots ignored them and allowed the fires to grow.
For profits’ sake we’ll pay the price, the ultimate tragic loss, while politicians fiddle a tune for their new greedy boss.
Note: I thought I had this scheduled to post on Earth Day.
Praying for Eyebrowz 