I just got back from a Sam's Club run. I didn't tell my wife I was going because it makes her nervous. I'm a bit of a compulsive shopper, so on past trips I've returned with 1000 food service gloves, 30 cans of green beans and a giant tub of 250 pretzel sticks (that was April and my kid's still eating them, although they went stale long ago). I also once bought several DVDs which, as it turned out, we already owned.
The food service gloves were for my hands. I had a skin rash on them for a while, so my dermatologist gave me some cream to use at night and told me to wear gloves over my hands while I slept. Rubber gloves are too hot, so I saw the plastic ones at Sam's and thought, perfect!
They only came in a two-pack of 500 gloves per box, so I got them. I wore them for about four nights until my wife made me stop because every time I moved in the bed, the sound of rustling plastic woke her up. Besides, she said, I was never gonna get laid wearing those things and looking like a Subway "sandwich artist" or the bread guy at Morrison's Cafeteria.
So now we have 492 plastic food service gloves; I gave one box of 500 to my friend Danna, a "be prepared" kinda gal like me, and she was excited. I'm still glad to have my 492, because if I ever end up changing diapers again -- god forbid -- I'm gonna use them.
But I digress. Sam's pissed me off because like so many retailers I frequent, they play the shittiest music over their loudspeakers and you're forced to listen to this crud while you shop. Then one of those shitty songs gets stuck in your head, and you walk around all the rest of the day haunted by crap like "Suddenly" by Billy Ocean (thanks, CVS), "Silly Love Songs" by Paul McCartney (Publix), or, thanks to Sam's today, "Mr. Bojangles" by the Nitty Gritty (and Shitty) Dirt Band (the popular cover version of the original Jerry Jeff Walker tune).
Can I tell you how much I absolutely hate the song, "Mr. Bojangles"? HATE it. Always have. Even as a kid I thought it was so GD lame, this doofy song about some dirty, smelly old bum who dances for nickels to support his gin habit. Who fuckin' cares?
And then there's the lame-ass lyrics. "He let go a laugh"? WTF? He was squeezing it in like a fart and it slipped out? You let go a fart, not a laugh. Actually, though, since Mr. Bojangles' breath probably smells like shit, his laughs are like farts, making the "let go a laugh"/fart connotation here appropriate, if not brilliant.
Whatever. The song blows, and I'm rewriting the lyrics. If I have to have it stuck in my head all day long, I'm gonna make lyrics that I like.
The real lyrics (abridged version):
I knew a man Bojangles and he'd dance for you
In worn out shoes
With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high, jumped so high
Then he lightly touched down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was
Down and out
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
As he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed
Clicked his heels and stepped
He said his name "Bojangles" and he danced a lick
Across the cell
He grabbed his pants and spread his stance,
Oh he jumped so high and then he clicked his heels
He let go a laugh, let go a laugh
And shook back his clothes all around
Mr. Bojangles...
Mr. Bojangles...
Mr. Bojangles...
Dance...
My version:
I knew a song "Bojangles" and it sucked my nuts...
For forty years
A lame-ass tune in 3/4 time 'bout a homeless dude
Who gives a shit?!
He let go some gas, let go some gas
And then he pissed his pants
Mr. Bojangles...
Mr. Bojangles...
Mr. Bojangles...
Die.
Blame Bunions on your Genes
1 day ago








