What, were they going to spend the day discussing her favorite songs? Speaking of favorite songs, here's PITT'S favorite song, back from when he was glomming on to Mother Sheehan's publicity:
MAKE ME KNOWN, COUNTRY ROAD
Tune: "Take Me Home, Country Roads"
Almost hades, Crawford Texas
Bush Ranch protest, Sheehan doin' talk shows
Press is out there, underneath the tree
Lookin' for some talkers, might as well be me
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
All my DUmmies rally round me
Mindless, lazy, looking for a leader
Read my bloggings, written on the fly
Boring waste of bandwidth, glazing of the eye
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
I wear a hat, in the mirror I see Eastwood
The ladies on DU think I'm hot when I pose
But sweatin' in the sun I get the feelin'
That I should have worn some lighter clothes, lighter clothes
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
Make me known, country road
Make me known, country road . . .
I finally managed to look up
Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Dress Up Like Gay Cowboys:
Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Dress Up Like Gay Cowboys
Progs ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold.
They'd rather give you a screed than diamonds or gold.
Large "gay-pride" banners and tired ol' cliches,
And each night begins a new day.
If you don't understand him, an' he don't die young,
He'll prob'ly just write away.
Mamas, don't let your babies dress up like gay cowboys.
Don't let 'em write weblogs or go to teach-ins.
Let 'em be pollsters and lawyers and such.
Mamas don't let your babies dress up like gay cowboys.
'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone.
Even with someone they love.
Progs like smokey bathhouses and have hung-over mornings,
Little warm gerbils and minors and boys of the night.
Them that don't know him won't like him and them that do,
Sometimes won't know how to take him.
He does wrong, he's... um... "different" and his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he can write.
Mamas, don't let your babies dress up like gay cowboys.
Don't let 'em write weblogs or go to teach-ins.
Let 'em be pollsters and lawyers and such.
Mamas don't let your babies dress up like gay cowboys.
'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone.
Even with someone they love.
The best! "Country Roads" is hard to sing even, but to create new lyrics and make them fit into the song's meter and rhyme is quite an accomplishment. I love it! Yesterday's were good but I couldn't read DUFU this morning...same old problem, can't risk demented laughter... my DUFU laughter... in the presence of outsiders.
You and PJ, Silverback, and all of the other regulars on DUFU, are truly a blessing in the world. To read DU without the saving grace of your wit would be to endanger one's sense of spiritual balance. Thank you all, again and again.
b