Now That's An Anthem

So, yesterday we had the barrage of 09/11 tributes. Too many to count, really. And it was also the first day of the NFL football season. And I guess that we were all supposed to be extra moved by whoever it was that did their rendition of the national anthem before the various games. I get that. I mean, we were only ten days into the Persian Gulf War in 1991 when Whitney Houston did her thing at the Super Bowl at Tampa Stadium. (Holy crap, we've been at war in the sand lands for way too long.) But I guess I'm just one of those people that likes the anthem to just be sung. It doesn't need to be all tricked out or anything. I just want whomever to sing the song and sing it like they mean it and not so much like they're just trying to impress people with their wide vocal range and sparkly fringe outfit. That's all I ask.

And over there at Soldier Field in Chicago where the Bears hosted the Atlanta Falcons, I got my wish. Apparently, there's a guy named Jim Cornelison who can really sing the national anthem. And I mean really sing it. This guy doesn't mess around. (I don't know what the big gaudy ring on his finger is, but I'm hoping that it's some sort of a sports championship ring. Hoping. It looks like a broach. ) I find it extremely moving, especially on 09/11. Now if I can just go for the rest of my life without having to hear Christina Aguilera or Fergie ever sing the anthem again, I'll be happy. Check out this Jim Cornelison guy singing yesterday. (The actual singing part starts around 1:05 if you're not interested in watching a bunch of people unroll the biggest flag that I've ever seen.) It's awesome and it's how it should be.

moreless

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, etc.

What we have today is a video. It's a video that is without splick. That is to say, it is inexplicable. Actually, the video itself isn't so bad. It's the song that accompanies said video that I'm having a problem with. And it could be that I just don't get it. I'm not dismissing any possibilities. But I really think that I am being fairly accurate when I say that this might be one of the biggest piece of crap songs that I have ever heard in my life and I cannot for the life of me understand how in the world the video has garnered over 19 million hits on YouTube AND has made it into the top fifty downloads on iTunes! Since Blogger is being super fabulous this evening and may or may not be letting me put up the video (check at the bottom of this post to see if it's here), you might just have to click on the YouTube link above to check out this atrocity. I'll wait.

Are you back? How are your ears? Have you stabbed them out with sporks yet? The chick singing is a one thirteen year old Rebecca Black. And that brings me to some of my questions. (Trust me, there isn't enough room here for all of my questions.) Question one: Why does she feel to sing a song that is basically telling us the days of the week and the mundane-mess of her days? And in such a matter of fact way. She gets up. She goes downstairs. She eats cereal. And then comes the real pickle of her day...trying to make that gut wrenching decision as to whether she should sit in the front seat or the back seat! Then comes our lesson on the days of the week. Well, most of them. Thursday comes before Friday. After Friday is Saturday. After Saturday is Sunday. Thank God that her week in her song only seems to have four days as I don't think that I could have stomached hearing about Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday! Seriously, I've heard songs that were basically about nothing, but this takes nothing-ness to a whole new level.

But wait! There's more! Suddenly, right in the middle of this debacle, a 30-year old rapper (for some reason) pops up in the middle of the video and begins his own matter-of-fact lyrics about absolutely nothing. Then after he's done, it's back to the thirteen year old white girl to continue singing about how it is Friday and "We so excited...We gonna have a ball today." Painful lyrics and poor grammar. Fabulous. What's with the rapper? What's he driving? Why is he having anything at all to do with a little 13-year old white chick? He seems to be chasing down the middle schoolers in the bus so that he can party it up with them. Why? Because it's Friday, that is correct.

I can only assume that this is some sort of quest to try to find the next Justin Bieber or something like that? I don't know where else this chick came from, nor do I particularly care. I wish that she'd go back there and take her song with her, though. And I don't necessarily care what day of the week that she does it on. She doesn't even need to sing to me about it. Even though she probably would and it would probably go something like this: "And Mary didn't care for me or my little song. So I went back from whence I came. My song was never played again. Not even on Friday. Or the day after that, which happens to be Saturday. Or the day after that, which I will tell you is Sunday. Now I am going to go upstairs to my room and never come out again. I don't know what to tell you about the rapper. My Dad wants to hurt and maim him, though. I think I smell biscuits."

moreless

Happy Mother's Day From Mr. T.

Happy Mother's Day. Look, if I had some poignant words of wisdom for this day, I'd tell ya. I swear! I would. But I got nothin'. Not a thing. And I can admit that. No problem. Others, however, seem to not be able to come to terms with the fact that they don't have much to say. No, instead of admitting it and sticking with "Happy Mother's Day", they go on ahead and try to painstakingly compose an inspiring and tearjerking Mother's Day message, which ends up being not so much of any of those things. Who do we blame for this? Why, Mr. T., of course.

That's right. Mr. T. Mr. T of the A-Team. (Is everything in this man's life about initials?) In what would to be somewhere amidst the 1980s (judging from the techno/disco/transition-to-80s-music beat), Mr. T. of the A-Team starred in and voiced the words in a song that I suppose was intended to be a tribute to mother's, as well as an instructional piece for children who are arguing with their peers (and using rather humorous, childish, 1980s insults). The insults are all fine and in good jest, but then someone drags the other one's mother into it and suddenly, this little public service announcement or whatever we thought it was before that, turns into a musical number with great educational value after the disagreement between the kids is intervened by Mr. T.

The choice of actors for the bickering peers is an interesting one. There is a small black boy who appears to be quite short. Apparently, if something works in one situation, it's necessary that it be added to every other situation, regardless as to whether or not it makes sense. 80s TV, as you may or may not care to remember, seemed to think that the way to a show's success was the addition of a small black actor. Gary Coleman. Emmanuel Lewis. Benson. It's the same sort of theory that dominates any sort of reality competition show these days. Only instead of a short black actor, there is an acerbic, British judge.

Anyway, in addition to that actor, there is a large female to serve as the bitchy peer. If there was ever a short male actor in 80s TV, it was almost guaranteed that there would be an obnoxious, rotund, female who always spoke her mind and who always thought she was beautiful (even though she looked like she had just eaten an entire racetrack). She has the typical large bitchy female, short frizzy hair with a hairband of sorts and large, white, round, plastic earrings. She has a round full face and is frequently seen with her hands on her hips, looking down as she towers over her antagonist and hurls insults at the little, little man.

It goes something like this:

Big Girl: Well, you couldn't be more than five.

Gary Coleman: Oh, yeah? You're so fat, they have to jack you up to take off your shoes.

Big Girl: Yeah? Well, you're so skinny, you're eyes are in single file.

Webster: Well you're so ugly your EARS stick out to get away from your FACE!

Big Girl: Well your Mama is so.....

Mr. T.: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! (Missss-ter T to savethedaaaaaaayyy!!) Don't bring anyone's mother into this. She ain't here. (Oh, sure. If she were there, THEN it would be perfectly OK to get out those 'Yo Mama' jokes? I kinda wish he had let her get off just ONE. Maybe it would have been my favorite! "Yo Mama'sso fat they had to paint a line around her so you could tell if she was walking or rolling. He-hee. Still funny.)

Mr. T.: And if it wasn't for your mother, you wouldn't be here. So remember, when you put down one mother, you're putting down mother's all over the world. (He got that from not having her be there when the insults were about to fly? Huh. Interesting)

Of course, right after that last word of wisdom, the boy and the girl look at each other with that Scooby-Doo head tilt and a look on their faces as if they have just heard the most magical words ever. They nod in agreement at his sage wisdom which shoots out from those glittering gold chains and medallions (the purpose of which I don't believe has ever been disclosed, other than perhaps to draw one's attention away from the mohawk) and then they exit stage left, the girl with her hand on the boy's shoulder and a smile on her face, as she's going to eat him for lunch when they're out of the camera shot.

We get this great shot at the beginning, right when the beat starts to be heard. There's Mr. T. in his denim shorts that are so short I'm pretty sure he must have come straight to this studio directly from shooting a Nair commercial. He also has the knee high, striped sweat socks, large tennis shoes and the traditional sleeveless black shirt or sweater vest (it's really hard to tell with all of those chains on). In the background are his do-wop girls. Only they appear to have been recruited from a temp agency that hires out secretaries. What the hell is that? There's a long skirt with a shiny belt. There are women's Dockers with the long sleeve shirt which sports the puffy lace cuffs and the velour collar. You know the kind. And then there's the dark slacks, dark jacket ensemble. All are sporting comfortable flats and a hairdo which involves feathering and/or a perm. They're doing the two step white man's shuffle and hand/arm gestures that they have clearly remembered from the days when they were on the cheerleading squad back in high school. . And because there's three of them there are naturally only two microphones on stands. I don't know why they just don't spring for the third mike. What does that accomplish? Having velour-collar go back and forth? Is it a guy thing? Two girls that close together, guys think they're going to kiss? Is that it? It must be. There's no other explanation for it.Just as there is no explanation for this whole video.

And it begins with the cheerleaders singing the chorus, "Treat her right. Treat your mother right." That melodic composition is repeated in that typical 1980s chorus/backup singer tune.(Trust me, you'll know it when you hear it.) Meanwhile, Mr. T., completely unaware that people all across the globe will be able to see this atrocity years in the future thanks to an as-then uninvented technology called 'The Internet', tries to stay with the beat, mimic the cheerleaders moves and then 'sing'. I've quoted 'sing' because it's Mr. T., for cryin' out loud! I don't really know what to call it, it's barely grunting to music, but it's definitely NOT singing, I know that.

The video of this musical number is below, but I just have to spell out the lyrics here so that you get the full effect of what an odd Mother's Day tribute this little ditty really is.

Mother. There is no other. Like mother. So treat her right.
Mother. I'll always love her. My mother. So treat her right. Treat her right.

M is for the moans and the miserable groans
from the pain that she felt when I was bone (that's the Mr. T. way of saying 'born' so that it rhymes with 'groans and moans'. Clever, eh? Good Lord...)

O is for the oven with the burning heat
Where she stood making sure I had something to eat (So now his mother is slaving away in a kitchen. Nice.)

T is for the time when she stayed up at night
and took my temperature when I wasn't feeling right.

H is for the hard earned money she spent
to put clothes on my back and tries to pay da rent. (I'm not so sure it was the 'clothes' that she bought for you that made it hard to 'pay da rent' as much as it was all of those gold chains.)

E is every wrinkle I put on her face
and every worry that I caused when I stayed up late. (Now you've withered the woman into the likeness of a Shar-pei.)

The last letter R is that you taught me respect
and for the room up in heaven that I know she will get. (Good way to end the song about your mother! By throwing out the reminder that she's gonna die one day. Yep, she'll be dead!)

She's agreeing second to none
Take care of mother, you only get one.

Then as the chorus is repeated a few times, the camera shows several different scenarios which are supposed to represent the typical ways that kids interact with their moms. There's the giving her the fake box of candy that a big snake jumps out of when she opens it. There's the tandem bike ride through the park. And opening the door to Mom's convertible for her. There's the kissing her on the cheek with your mouth full of food. And helping Mom carry in the groceries. And who could forget giving Mom a shoulder rub while still wearing your batting gloves from baseball practice earlier in the day? Not me, that's for sure!

And the final shot is of someone (I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl. There's too much big hair. There's too much big headband. There's too much one long dangly earring. And there's too much looking like New Kids on the Block which kids in the 80s did regardless as to whether they were male or female. I just don't know.) who clearly is on the way to join in a Jane Fonda workout video shoot (just as soon as they find their missing Reeboks and striped leg warners). This person looks into the camera and suggestively says (with this sly, all knowing look), "Be somebody!" Huh?

Be somebody? Like who? I thought this was about mothers! Are we supposed to be mothers?! I don't wanna! No, serioiusly, I do NOT! Besides, this is geared to be directed at children. You can't be suggesting that children 'be somebody' by being mothers! I don't care if it is Mother's Day! It's just not right!

See? That's why, if you can't think of anything poignant to say on Mother's Day, you're better off either saying nothing or just getting a card. If you try to piece a bunch of words together, who knows how it could come out? You might end up just like Mr.T. did there and start suggesting that children get pregnant. What a PR nightmare that must have been. No wonder he didn't go farther in his career!

Happy Mother's Day.

moreless

Put On Your Yarmulke....

Today is apparently the fourth day of Hanukkah. Wait. Maybe the fifth. It'll be the fifth at sundown. I think. See, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not Jewish. I am aware of Hanukkah and it's practices (sort of), but I've never been one to pencil it in. Christmas? Pencilled all over the place.

The point is that today's post was to be in recognizance of Hanukkah. But I

scoured the news and there was not one single Hanukkah debacle to be found. No one unnecessarily freaking out over a menorah display. No one unnecessarily freaking out because someone wanted to wear a yarmulke. (That's pronounced, for some reason, as: ˈyä-mə-kə. And for those of you who didn't grow up reading words with upside-down e's in them, it's pronounced "YA-ma-kah". Do not go with "little hat". Trust me. That's wrong.

Don't ask me how I know, I just know. Wrong.) None of it. I was quite disappointed. Fortunately, there are still three or four nights of Hanukkah left, so there's plenty of time for fakeroversy (fake controversy).

And since my own knowledge of Hanukkah is limited, I turned to the only person that I could think of that can explain a little bit of this holiday in ways that I can understand. Um, actually, wait. It's not so much the explaining of the holiday that he does, as much as he promotes awareness about many famous people who you may or may not (probably not) have known were Jewish. The list is quite extensive. That man is Adam Sandler. That song is The Hanukkah Song.

Now, I tried to find the original episode of Saturday Night Live where Adam

first performed his song on Weekend Update. I thought it would be on YouTube. It wasn't. It's over there at NBC.com somewhere buried deep within their archives of "Things People Want To See But Will Never Be Able To Find". I did, however, find the clip over there at The Examiner in a piece written by a one Cindy Adams. I mention that because I have absolutely NO faith that the clip that I am embedding below is going to work or even show up (it's not showing up in my previews). And without the video, this is a really lame post. So if it doesn't show or doesn't work, please, click on the link above and watch it there.

Now, enough procrastinating about possible doom that may or may not occur. On with learning about who in Hollywood and the sports world is Jewish. And who isn't. It's all quite informative.

moreless

Teach Me Tiger...wah wah wah wah wah

I'm sure that I'm just hammering this whole Tiger Woods thing right into the ground. I'm aware of that. But there's nothing more than I enjoy than watching the self-induced implosion and subsequent fall of the overly sanctimonious. It's like a real reality show. And I find it awesome.

Naturally, I find nothing more awesome than that which can be attributed to a certain individual in a comedic form that it was not originally intended to be. Even more awesome than that is finding a gem such as that which is over fifty years old and still, when placed in the proper (and most amusing) context, will make you laugh with ironic glee. Today that source is a one April Stevens.

Now, I know you're saying "Who?" So did I. In fact, I'm still kind of saying "Who?", but it doesn't matter. April Stevens was a singer back in the 1950s and 1960s. It seemed as if she had a penchant for breathy music with sultry lyrics. More than one of her songs was banned from radio play, but that didn't stop them from climbing the charts. This particular number that I'll be discussing here made it clear up to number 86 on Billboard's charts.

In 1959, Ms. Stevens and her brother, a one Nino Tempo, knocked out a steamy little number entitled "Teach Me Tiger". Basically, the woman singing is wanting to have her man, her tiger, if you will, teach her things and touch her in places that are never mentioned. I'm not quite sure which part of the lyrics are my favorite. The beginning when she breathes out "Hi. Tiger!" Or perhaps it just the exquisite usage of the lyrics "wah wah wah wah wah". It's hard to fit a five-wah-er into music regardless of the decade.

Hi Tiger


Teach me tiger how to kiss you.. wah wah wah wah wah
Show me tiger how to kiss you.. wah wah wah wah wah

Take my lips,

they belong to you..

But teach me first, teach me what to do..
.

Touch me tiger when I'm close to you wah wah wah wah wah
Help me tiger I don't know what to do wah wah wah wah wah
I know that you
could love me too

But show me first, show me what to do


This is the first love
that I have ever known

What must I do

to make you my very own?

Teach me tiger how to tease you wah wah wah wah wah
Tiger, tiger I wanna squeeze you wah wah wah wah wah

All of my love

I will give to you
But teach me TIGER.. or I'll teach you

Tiger .. Tiger.. Tiger..

Special, eh? I thought you'd think so. The music is below. The accompanying video is merely a slideshow of a bunch of stills, but it shows you who this woman was at the time of her tantillizing and breathless recording. In fact, she's still an extremely attractive woman, fifty years after the fact. Behold!

She's gotta be what? 68-70? If we can look half that good when we're seventy, we'll be happy. In the meantime, while we're waiting to wither away into old age, what say we enjoy the song in it's newly found context - that of serial fornicator Tiger Woods.

moreless