Come To Me, Leon

 My mother did not understand anything about rock and roll music.

One time, she announced she was going to Treasure Island (a local department store, sort of like Target) and my brother asked if she could pick up the new record album by the new group "Led Zepplin".  Mom went to Treasure Island and asked the kid that worked the record department if they had the new record by "Led Zipper".

But where she was most confused was by the lyrics.  She didn't even attempt to translate "Louie, Louie".  Here are some of the song lyrics she got totally wrong, with the correct lyrics highlighted.


"Yellow, yellow, yellow wheels".  "Helen, Helen, hell on wheels"- Paul McCartney "Helen Wheels".

"Oh, man, Dee".  "Oh, Mandy" -Barry Manilow "Mandy"

"I much rather be, Reverend Blue Jeans"- "I much rather be forever in blue jeans"-Neil Diamond "Forever In Blue Jeans".

You get the picture. This went on for years.


One time, in the mid-80's, she asked me if I had heard this song "Come To Me, Leon".  I said I hadn't and asked her if it was something she heard on Ludlow Porch.  "No", she said, "They play it on the regular radio all the time. It doesn't make any sense".

Mom was always saying songs didn't make sense. One time, she asked me if I had heard this "stupid song" about this cake that was left out in the rain and the singer was caterwauling that he'll never have the recipe again.

I said, "That's McArthur's Park" and I went into a whole liberal art education explanation (just to let her know we got our money's worth) about the  symbolism.of the song. The cake represents the relationship but it was left out in the rain (whatever caused the couple's problems) and the relationship has now been dissovled. Oh no.

Mom said, "It is still stupid"

Back to "Come To Me, Leon".  I asked Mom to sing a few bars.

She sang "Come, Come, Come, Come to me, Leon. You come and go. You come and go".

Even though it was sung off-key, I picked up the song she was talking about:  "Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club.

"What's a Karma Chameleon?", she asked.  I told her that basically it was a two faced person then she asked why didn't they say that in the first place.  I didn't have the nerve to tell her about Boy George.

"And another thing, why do they say, You're my lover not my Bible?"

"Mom, it is You're my lover not my rival".

"Oh.  That's stupid".

I am happy to say I've inherited some of the inability to catch the correct lyrics to songs. I thought Johnny Rivers was singing "Secret Asian Man"  instead of "Secret Agent Man".

I couldn't make out what Elton John was saying in "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting" "We had enough of your add-do-tation, we had it with your guitar playin'" is what I thought he said.  He said, however,  "Oh, don't give us none of your aggravation, we had it with your discipline."

I'm sure I was in my forties before I understood "Rocket Man".  I knew it gave out great parenting tips: Mars isn't a good place to raise children because it is cold as Hell.  But I didn't know it was "Rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone." and don't tell me you did.

I've been looking at a lot of John Prine videos lately. Prine has released a new album and he's finally getting some well deserved acclaim.

In one video, he talks about liking Fats Domino and a song called "Margie".  He said he thought Fats sang in the song "Don't you forget about your mumbly beads".  He relates his suprise when he read in Hit Parader magazine the words were "Don't you forget your promise to me."

Here's the song.  I'm not so sure he doesn't say "mumbly beads" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAM74H_4y8U&list=RDMMEAM74H_4y8U

I guess if a professional Americana country legend can misunderstand a lyric, I can cut Mom some slack.

Eat More Chicken

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

We have a winner for probably the most insulting and also the stupidest article written in 2018.  In fact, it may win for the dumbest opinion piece of the decade and very well possibly could be the winner of this century.

It is "Chick-fil-A's Creepy Infiltration of  New York City" in this week's New Yorker magazine by Dan Piepenbring. Here it is for your reading enjoyment. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/annals-of-gastronomy/chick-fil-as-creepy-infiltration-of-new-york-city/amp

Where to begin? Let's start with these words underneath the picture of the Chick-fil-A on Fulton Street.  "Chick-fil-A’s corporate purpose begins with the words “to glorify God,” and that proselytism thrums below the surface of its new Fulton Street restaurant."

Yes, below the surface of the Chick-fil-A on Fulton Street, little Southern Baptists are scheming to take over The Big Apple one chicken biscuit at a time. Pretty soon, you won't be able to enter the restaurant without being subjected to children doing Bible Sword Drills. The horror!

Piepenbring says, "New York has taken to Chick-fil-A. One of the Manhattan locations estimates that it sells a sandwich every six seconds, and the company has announced plans to open as many as a dozen more storefronts in the city. And yet the brand’s arrival here feels like an infiltration, in no small part because of its pervasive Christian traditionalism. Its headquarters, in Atlanta, are adorned with Bible verses and a statue of Jesus washing a disciple’s feet. Its stores close on Sundays. Its C.E.O., Dan Cathy, has been accused of bigotry for using the company's charitable wing to fund anti-gay causes, including groups that oppose same-sex marriage."

Let me translate this for you.  "Pervasive Christian traditionalism" means Southern White Evangelicalism and that means fat white people, which are totally ick. "Groups that oppose same-sex marriage" means the people that haven't gotten with it and disregarded their religious beliefs or as I like to put it: the people that believe what Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama believed in those dark ages of 2008.

Piepenbring really dislikes the Chick-fil-A Cows, even though they are popular. He says, "If the restaurant is a megachurch (note: a part of his thesis is Chick-fil-A is one big megachurch), the Cows are its ultimate evangelists.

This Piepenbring statement sounds like it was written for The National Lampoon in the seventies.

"It’s worth asking why Americans fell in love with an ad in which one farm animal begs us to kill another in its place. Most restaurants take pains to distance themselves from the brutalities of the slaughterhouse; Chick-fil-A invites us to go along with the Cows’ Schadenfreude."

I don't know why Americans fell in love with the ad.  Maybe because they were funny? Americans like bovines that can't spell.

Additionally, it is not like the Cows are driving the chickens to the slaughterhouse. They are just trying to increase their odds of living.

I'm not sure if Mr. Piepenbring has ever been on a farm. I have. Every farm animal I've ever met would definitely beg to have another killed in its place.  They're just that way.

Mr. Piepenbring continues to sound the alarm bells: "Its arrival in the city augurs worse than a load of manure on the F train".  Maybe it is just me, but I think having a homeless population that bathes in the city's fountains and European sex slaves parading around Times Square with paint on their bare breasts augurs worse.  But then again, maybe I've been brainwashed by Chick-fil-A's frosted coffee.

Piepenbring says, "According to a report by the Center for an Urban Future, the number of chain restaurants in New York has doubled since 2008, crowding out diners and greasy spoons for whom the rent is too dear. Chick-fil-A, meanwhile, is set to become the third-largest fast-food chain in the nation, behind only McDonald’s and Starbucks. No matter how well such restaurants integrate into the “community,” they still venerate a deadening uniformity"

Why in the world would New Yorkers want a nice clean restaurant when they could have a diner or greasy spoon with a C grade slapped on the window?

Piepenbring actually acknowledges there could be another point of view regarding Chick-fil-A.

"Defenders of Chick-fil-A point out that the company donates thousands of pounds of food to New York Common Pantry, and that its expansion creates jobs. The more fatalistic will add that hypocrisy is baked, or fried, into every consumer experience—that unbridled corporate power makes it impossible to bring your wallet in line with your morals. Still, there’s something especially distasteful about Chick-fil-A, which has sought to portray itself as better than other fast food: cleaner, gentler, and more ethical, with its poultry slightly healthier than the mystery meat of burgers. Its politics, its décor, and its commercial-evangelical messaging are inflected with this suburban piety"


Here's a news flash: every fast food place tries to portray itself as better than other fast food. You would never hear McDonald's say, "Yeah, we know it is crap, but it is quick crap"

But, I will give it to Mr. Piepenbring.  I never realized the decor of Chick-fil-A was inflected with suburban piety.  Those Chick-fil-A people are sneaky and we are lucky to have Mr. Piepenbring alert us about them.

He finishes the article with a flourish.  "A representative of the Richards Group once told Adweek, “People root for the low-status character, and the Cows are low status. They’re the underdog.” That may have been true in 1995 when Chick-fil-A was a lowly mall brand struggling to find its footing against the burger juggernauts. Today, the Cows’ “guerrilla insurgency” is more of a carpet bombing. New Yorkers are under no obligation to repeat what they say. Enough, we can tell them. NO MOR.

True, New Yorkers are under no obligation to "repeat what they say".  I have no idea what Mr. Piepenbring is referring to here. He didn't tell us-he was too busy pointing out the schadenfreude of the Cows.  Nobody is making New Yorkers go to Chick-fil-A.  I've been to New York several times and I can assure you there are plenty of places to eat that are not inflected with suburban piety.

Mr. Piepenbring, come on over to the dark side. We have chicken minis.

Sorry

I think I know when everything started to get weird:  the fall of 1976 at Wheeler High School.

A little background first.

At that point in time in the 70's, adults didn't particularly care what teenagers thought about, er, anything. They thought by the mere fact they had lived longer than teenagers had, they simply knew more about life. Incredible concept, isn't it?

Adults said what was on their minds and if you didn't like it, tough.

There was a member of the faculty of Wheeler,  Coach Diffley ( a social studies teacher, surprise, surprise) who definitely had "no filter" if you catch my drift.

Whatever he thought, he said. At least it seemed that way. I would hate to know what he thought and didn't say.

Of course, this made him one of the most popular teachers in the history of Wheeler.

I never had Coach Diffley for any classes. However, one time, he was an emergency substitute for my history teacher,  the fabulous Kitty Love of the grand state of Mississippi.  "Coach Dif-lay, Ah've gotta an aful tuthache. Yawl, Coach Dif-lay gonna be here. Don't be aful. They're aful, Coach, just aful". (Translation: "Coach Diffley, I had a terrible toothache and must go to the dentist. Students, Coach Diffley will teach the class today. Behave and Carpe Diem")

Since Kitty Love had to leave so quickly, there was nothing for Coach Diffley to do except hold court and tell us some stories.

One story sticks out. I will tell it verbatim, as God is my witness, with the proper footnotes highlighted.

He said, "When I was in college, I met this girl. She was from Japan. In fact, she had survived the bombing of Hiroshima when she was an infant." [Wow, we didn't know anybody survived the bombing of Hiroshima. The fact that our own Coach Diffley had met a survivor was impressive.]

He continued, "She was a fine, fine girl". [I'm sure she was, Coach]. "However, [Uh-oh, here it comes] the lingering radiation did weird things to her body.  In fact, her boobies were on her back instead of her front". [Really?!]

He finished, "Yeah, she wasn't much to look at but boy was she fun to slow dance with".  With that, he started to pretend he was slow dancing with a woman whose breasts were on her back.

I remember about 40 kids in convulsions laughing at Coach Diffley and his dancing partner. Nobody got upset or offended. I'm sure every student told their parents the same thing I told mine when asked if anything happened at school: nothing.

If that happened today, it would be on the evening news. It would also be a Twitter storm like you wouldn't believe.

"This educator finds humor in the malconformation of this young heroic survivor of imperalistic radiation then proceeds to grope and fondle her. How can this be funny? #hertoo #metoo #theytoo #wetoo #breastsonawomansbackisnotfunny

No, for some reason, we understood, without subtitles, Coach Diffley was joking. There is no girl, if there was, she wasn't from Japan and her parts were in the right places.


That happened in the spring of 1976. In the fall of 1976, there was a new school year and more importantly, a new football season. Even though we were a tony suburb of Atlanta, football was still the king. Therefore, we had a pep rally in the gym every Friday to "fire" up the boys on to victory.

Coach Diffley was the faculty sponsor of the riff-raft class of 1979. (Editorial disclosure: My wife was a member of this class).

Each class had to sit in a particular section of the gym. Seniors here. Juniors there. Sophomores over there. Freshman next to them.

The cheerleaders decided to have a "cheer-off" to see which class could cheer the loudest. The Class of 1980 vs The Class of 1979. The Class of 1978 vs The Class of 1977. The winners won candy tossed by our comely cheerleaders.

The Class of 1980 went first. Being freshman and new to the school, they wanted to make a good impression and they raised the roof.  The Class of 1979 was next. They were pitiful, really pathetic. They didn't stand up and holler for Wheeler.

After this rather dismal display of school spirit, Coach Diffley sprints out on to the gym floor, in front of God, Man, and administration, flipping off the Class of 1979 with an obscene gesture. [Footnote: Some historians disagree as to the type of gesture he  used, but the important ones  (me and Chris Moody) have concluded it was the one done with the arm and not the finger. However, all historians agree the Class of 1979 needed flipping off.]

Again, I don't remember anybody getting the vapors from seeing an educator running around flipping off an entire class.  I know nobody was surprised it was Coach Diffley

However, later in the day, there was an announcement from the principal.  He wanted to convey Coach Diffley's apology for his actions at the Pep Rally.  The principal said Coach Diffley didn't mean to "offend anyone" which is a hoot because the whole purpose of flipping somebody off is to offend them.

If that happened today, Coach Diffley would have been made to walk the front hall with people throwing mud at him yelling "Shame". But, it was just another day at school back then. I'm sorry that it has gone away and been replaced with people who are offended by everything and nothing at the same time.