By Special Request: Whole Lotta Led

Hi all,

Apparently I'm not posting frequently enough for some of you Internet-vultures. Why, just this morning, Jmeped sniped:

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"Geez, I thought I was M.I.A. you live here and the posts are sparse. Do you need inspiration? Here I'll give you some topics; my new found love for Led Zeppelin, how your so in awe of my beauty, your fetish for live stock, and side show acts, Paris Hilton and all other celebutaunts, Global warming, the war in Iraq, and how one can survive on ice cream alone. Last but not least famous movie quotes from several movies that make up one new Pug production. By the way, I think you're incredibly sexy, and I want to pump out your babies like sugar peas from a pod".

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Okay, Miss PERFECT!!! The same person, by the way, who DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING on her blog for hours upon hours, a couple of days ago. But I can't fault Jmeped's logic; or lack thereof. For all I know, she may have "accidentally" ingested a Peyote Button or hallucinogenic mushroom at that flower shop. Perhaps she surrendered to the temptation of the 99-cent "Don't ask what it is, or else you'll have to pay $1 more" tinfoil-wrapped botulism special. So in the interest of seeking to understand the other degenerate's point of view, I'll cut her some slack. And I'll also watch "Little Shop of Horrors" this weekend in my quest for enlightenment on her situation.

Psychedelic Mushrooms

Peyote Button

So here goes, a post dedicated to addressing at least one of the topics that my deer (get it?) Jmeped suggested.



But first off, let me say that I do NOT "LIVE" here. My blog and all of yours are nothing more than slightly urine soaked cardboard refrigerator boxes, conveniently strewn along the streets, underpasses and alleys along my daily route from morning's hope to late evening's despair. Momentary respites from sunlight and reality. So let's get that straight. I do have a life! I simply choose not to remove the plastic covers and taint it with grape juice spills, mysterious odors, bodily fluids, and wear and tear from constant use.

Example of a Cardboard Box

And no, I certainly don't need inspiration. I can live without it, thank you very much. But hey, if you're offering, then fine. I'll accept your topics with the same false gratitude that parents display when their kids bring home those hideous popsicle stick and macaroni noodle "creations" from school.


How do they pull it off? Do they rationalize that these "works of art" may someday serve utilitarian roles as emergency tongue depressors and macaroni dinners* (*If only the infamous Donner Party had the option of boiling their children's school projects into nourishing meals!)? Perhaps this is a reality parents everywhere are forced to accept as karmic punishment for breeding. One can only hope.

Your first suggested topic was Led Zeppelin. One of my favorite bands of all time. And Jmeped, anytime you're ready, I would love to recreate with you the "Fish/Groupie/Hotel Room" legend that is part of their mystique.

But I got to thinking that some of their songs make me wonder: What The F*ck?! In fact, here's a suggestion for posts that any one of you can write. Pick a song that makes you wonder: WTF?!, and write about WHY it does that to you. Here, let me do a few Zep tunes.


WTF?! 001 > "Baby, I'm Gonna Leave You"

What were these numb nuts thinking? You NEVER NEVER EVER tell a woman you're gonna leave her before you do it. Fools! Then they wonder why all of their shit is out in the front yard when they get home. Neighbors picking through it, dogs pissing on it. The better strategy of course is ... and I shouldn't write this for at least TWO reasons. One, you guys out there should already know this. Two, we don't want the women to know, as it defeats the purpose. Okay, I'm in a good mood today, so I'll tell you. Two words: Fake abduction. It's clean. It evokes sympathy instead of rage. And it's fun. The note writing is the best part. Here is an example.

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Dear Pug's Girl,

We regret to inform you that we have kidnapped your Pug. Do not contact the police. We demand the entire contents of your bank accounts, along with all of his personal items, including electronics and associated media. You are to carefully wrap and place everything into a U-Haul trailer which you will then drive to the parking lot of the Gentlemen's Club on Mississippi Blvd. Leave the U-Haul at the rear of the lot, with the key tucked under the driver's seat. Then return home and wait for further instructions.

Warm regards,
The Mighty Terrorist Network*
(* A Mighty Dyckerson Subsidiary)

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Then you dig up a cadaver, place it in the back of the emptied U-Haul, and burn everything beyond recognition.

Example of a U-Haul Truck


WTF?! 002 > "Over The Hills And Far Away"

The first problem I have with this song is the title. If something is over the hills, it's ALREADY far away, dumbass. And WTF were they thinking when they wrote: "you've got the love I need ... maybe, more than enough"? A surplus of love is a bad thing. It's like having way too much toilet paper in the house. If you've got boxes of Cottonelle stacked in various rooms, you better make damn sure your fire insurance is paid up. It's also like having way too many carbohydrates in your system, only way more sinister. All of the extra love has to go somewhere. And sure as shit, it becomes obsession, jealousy and eventually: hate. Love is optional anyway, so a deficit is okay, as long as you're gettin' "some". So consider yourself warned, and beware of those "more than enough" psychos.


Okay, let's do one more.


WTF?! 003 > "D'Yer Mak'er"

Surprisingly, I don't have an issue with the song's title. For those of you who don't already know, it's a cute play on words. Properly pronounced, it approximates the word "Jamaica". You can always spot a Zep newbie, because he/she will inevitably say "Die-er-Make-er", which is laughably incorrect and fodder for intense ridicule.

My problem with this tune is the way that it repeatedly reassures: "Oh oh oh oh, oh oh, you don't have to go". WTF?! Any self-respecting dude knows better than to encourage the female to stay. Unless he's in the remedial class, and still is trying to get her to do the "horizontal bop". So please indulge me, as I attempt to rework these lyrics to more accurately reflect reality.

"Oh oh oh oh, oh oh, I'm done with you, you know"
"Oh oh oh oh, oh oh, so I think it's time you go"
"Oh oh oh oh, oh oh, didn't know you were so slow"
"Oh oh oh oh, oh oh, I think your car is being towed"

So there you have it; my inaugural attempt at playing music critic. And a damned fine post topic that anyone can do anytime. I was finally able to add pictures, so I hope you enjoyed the additional flair. Have a great weekend, everybody!
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