So Then Sunday … Trumpy Snacks

One of my favorite songs from the 90’s is Fun Loving Criminals “Scooby Snacks”, a tune that just cried 90’s if you’re looking for example and with a hook, though simple, that can get my/your shoulders moving in a playbeat.

It even borrowed Tarantino movie quotes to make it hipper than it already was and it just reminds me of a time where I was almost there.

So I did what I like to do back in March.

The video for this one by the way? Just too cool. Man those shoes.

Trumpy Snacks

“Everybody be cool, this is an insurrection!”

Don and lack facts set the track long ago   

His act election taint would be the big blow  

After mail in lies re-votes’ll be where the enemy goes

He exulted to podiums

Future fraud agendum

And lies don’t matter much

He bought with no cost

Small minds all loudly and blindly so

Singin’

Donnie Donnie Donnie

(Is this some Fascist-T love thing happening here people or what?)

When loss came the long game went into play

Cries rang out loud … that this was a no go

He couldn’t have lost … hell he even said so

Statistically not possible and numbers were his go go

Made up as they were he couldn’t have been wrong  

They thought singin’ all dumb dumb days long

So they listened to him being done so so wrong

Not to just to him but them that was a no no

“Look, I don’t know anything about any fucking election fraud
You can torture me all you want”


“Torture you, that’s good, that’s a good idea, I like that

Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

Rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

And Pence don’t give a fuck about a noose’s close call

If self respect was in height he’s only inches tall

He op-eds big lie, like he’s money

Though Trump had hoped his feet dangled funny

Ron Johnson chimes new times explanation

Antifa hell bent on insurrection

And try blame Pelosi for not calling in Nat guard

10,000 strong a Trump numbers lie song

Revisionists don’t care much what they get wrong

Say it enough and it’ll last days years long

But in the meantime you’re votes we leave charred

Suppression will and always be in their yard

Cause they can’t win without playing that card

Trumpy, we need you, are we fools?

Nah, you’re tools

Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

Rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

Muddy the waters make the rounds

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

Nothin’ to see pundits sound

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks  

You got nothin’ on him

Nothin’

It was no big deal

Another Friday In Season

(Facebook post on Friday)

So another Friday night and some more High School Football with Spectrum Sports.

I’m near Albany at Watervliet tonight on a perfectly crisp Fall Football evening (though I’ll probably be cursing wishing this “perfectly crisp” when it becomes “downright f’ing cold” later in the 2nd half … I’m old, this stuff gets felt these days ya know).

I’ve said this before but now that I’m here and a half hour from game time the world can piss off for a little football while.

(Some pics … from a stop at the end of the Taconic State Parkway to ask my google lady for directions the rest of the way … so Fall pretty …

… a ghoulie who could use a sandwich …

… refs preparing to do ref stuff and piss people off …

… the Devil keeping his hand and eye in/on things and doin’ a little camera freelancin’ …

… a shadow that knows, especially this Halloween weekend …

… and a mask I’m sure they’re gonna want me to wear for a broadcast Halloweeny “Frankencam” type shot … but it don’t look all that Halloweeny to me … it may intend gas mask, but it looks more like it comes with a ball and shame …

… and others

//////////////////////////////////////////

Note: end of game addendum

Biggest blowout I’ve witnessed in my ten plus years of being part of crewing these broadcasts …

Fonda-Fultonville – 68

Watervliet – 8

… with Fonda scoring 40 in the 2nd quarter alone.

I almost felt compelled to look away for just the simple football fan humanity of the gesture.

Mom: (turning to me from the front seat) “Don’t look Stephen” as we pass the scene of a horrible accident.

I did think of a curious thing though at one point during the game, maybe just my brain needing to wander from what it was I was watching …

… Fonda’s team name is the Braves. Jane Fonda was once married to Ted Turner. Ted Turner once owned the Braves.

Yeah, I know. Never give me time to think curious things. 🙂

So Then Sunday (the first post in the Attic – 12 years ago)

For the past few weeks I’ve done a re-post in a Sunday version of a Throwback Thursday, a So Then Sunday, recent song parodies of mine. I’ve come to like this idea and thought I’d continue it today, not with a song parody but with an old post, a first post.

Now it’s not like I just suddenly came to be writing things about my goings on, like Boom, here’s an Attic start the write, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell ya where I might have put my thoughts, the ones that really mattered, before the Attic other than to just save them in files lost in some haphazard saving way for none to see. But Maria was my eye back in our day. I mean obviously I did have my things saved, in that haphazard files in a PC kind of way, but it was she who made me put them in a place, if for no other reason than to have them to show, my thoughts right there, to her, and she was always, when I did get them in that spot, my arbiter of what was good, what needed some more work or what was just shit. To this day if I see that she has liked something of mine I know I’m on the right track.

We took a step together back in 2008 to a house, a little place in Newburgh NY, a place that would eventually house she and I and the JG (Jagger) and my Benny and Shoes and her Shana girl and soon puppies, Jackson and Brady, and then my little Bella in this small Newburgh place, the FrankenGreco Ranch, that had an unfinished attic, one we would finish and put my PC in. It was the most perfect of spots when done with undiscovered golden hardwood floors, duck your head ceilings in spots, a good and bad paint job, a couple of windows and life up some stairs. It became our Attic, a pride, a spot. Yes, I like the word “spot”.

Unlike the little extension on our house on Archer Road when I was a kid, the smallest of things really, just a few feet, but the biggest of things to my Mom, with a bay window, bay windows being how Mom’s measured themselves against other Mom’s then I guess, a thing for Ma to show off, this finishing of the attic wasn’t a Mom’s bay window. It was internal. It didn’t overtly overlook driveways or lawns or busy streets for all to behold in a Mom vs Mom kind of way, it was just there and we knew it and we owned it. It was a palpable change to an old new house that we could hang our hats on without the seen need. The rest of the house might still be the same just with new inhabitants but the Attic? It was ours … we did that … with no need to preen. And it was mine, with a keyboard.

Now eventually it became a too much mine and then housed a solitary bed, my own fault, not one down the stairs with pretty company, just some cats and an extra pillow but there was a time where, if given the time, I could write a few words about our at, about our us. Thus the first post from Frankenberry’s Attic 12 years ago.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

February 2009

Let me start by stating that I live with a 7 year old. Let me state further that I have never lived with a 7 year old, the only experience I have with such being the one year I spent living with myself in the early seventies. It was the year Frankenberry cereal came out and I was more concerned at the time with prank phone calls and the fun poked at me on the school bus than I was in trying to accommodate the none too subtle nuances of living with me or anyone else that was 7. I’m sure if I talk with my mother she would be able to tell me of the similarities between that 7 year old and the one I live with now though I’m also sure that “I wasn’t like this”. This is a phrase that I’ve actually caught myself saying by the way, in the same way that we all catch ourselves defiantly repeating what parents laugh about that they knew we would defiantly say. They laugh a good bit.  Again, I’ll have to talk to mom. She’ll probably get the same laughing kick.

As to the living with a 7 year old that I’ve never done? Well I’m not completely ignorant to the world of small early stage humans, it’s just that I’ve never gotten this far in their evolution. My experience came when sharing a house with my brother and sister starting in 2000 when she informed us of her impending babyness, something we weren’t aware of, her included, at the time we decided to throw our hats into the same ring, a small 3 bedroom soon to be circus in Beacon, NY.

So there my brother and I sat, bachelor #1 and bachelor #2, looking down the barrel of myths, legends and outright falsehoods about pregnancy that would all prove to be true.

Without even a hint of girlfriends, never mind mom to be’s we were thrust into the world of babies. Everything babies, babies all the time, first, second and last thought babies, babies the book, babies the movie, babies the graphic novel, babies in IMAX (my god that pee stream is huge), babies are the world concerts for babies, babies rock for grandma, babies are babies u can’t touch this. And this was all before any baby was actually produced.

Eventually a baby did reach production, after a grueling 18 hours on the line and amid rumbles of a strike from the union workers: namely me. Across four hard plastic benches in the waiting room, with a newspaper over my face not hiding the early dawn and also not hiding the screams from my sister that led to a C-section, I was ready to walk off the job – that of waiting across four hard plastic benches in the waiting room with a newspaper over my face not hiding the early dawn or her screams. Then Jake came, a brand spanking new model replete with a great working engine, racing stripes and a fully functioning horn.

The next five years were a wonderment and support my contention that I’m not completely ignorant to this world of small humans, but I did regress. After getting my own place I quickly reverted back to bachelor #1 status just minus the main trapping of being a bachelor. Dating. Other than that my bachelorness went well. Benny and Shoes were happy. I fed them, rubbed their bellies, hung out in windows with them and scratched their ears. Shoes even learned how to get his own cat treats out of the kitchen cabinet and bring them to me while not knocking down the beer can pyramids on the kitchen counter, a lazy cat guys dream. All was good.

Then I met her. The best her ever. Violent regression backslide. Screeching breaks and smoking tires. Beer can pyramid tumble.

Now I live with a 7 year old. As with my first experience with my sisters’ baby product I’m getting used to a new product, one that comes with no directions or warnings, just like the first, requiring me to discover instead how to use it through trial and error and the common sense that I often don’t have. For instance, trying to operate said product early in the a.m. may cause auditory damage if not managed correctly, (tarmac headgear helps, refer to directions you don’t have). Or, when trying to dress product, at least 17 different outfits should be offered to assure that at least one of them will be considered the products’ own choice, if not, be prepared for a really long morning and another tardy note. Also know that the desired breakfast may not be available, either through the dreaded immediate advertising of Nick TV or because you just forgot to buy something that you didn’t know you needed and then ran out of.

Like I said earlier, trying to remember what it was like for yourself is fruitless unless you consult mom, who finds this too entertaining, though she does offer advice amidst her giggling. The amazing thing though is that showering doesn’t always come with wet collateral damage, breakfast does happen, outfits gets picked, teeth brushing gets successful unwanted attention, lunch is made, bought or two dollared for the cafeteria, shoelace tying is finally tackled on a daily basis.

It is a slow process and I’ve only touched on mornings. You don’t even want to know, if you don’t already, what carnage the phrase ‘bed time’ causes or what it is like to live in ‘contrary land’, and you’ve probably heard the word ‘meanie’ quite a bit. But I’m living with a 7 year old for the first time and the rewards, though they may seem to be minimal to the outside observer, are huge. Bachelor #1 has this new product tying his shoes the same way he does. Give me one check on an imaginary checklist.

Crumbs For Crows (a poem)

I haven’t written a poem in quite some time, years actually, so this will surely be read as a poor attempt. Don’t be too harsh in your opinions, honest but not too harsh. I’m fragile yah know. 🙂

Crumbs For Crows

Thoughts dropped

Leavings

The wipe of a mouth

Crumbs

Damned falling bits of things

A crow’s right

We sit on lightposts

Signposts

Timeposts

Waiting

Watching

Hover busy highway or

Lonely humble back otherway

Sometimes with a God’s wink snark as you pass underneath

Overpass

Or around the long way

With a caww’s call

To friends

In just not enough light

We sit on lawns, flitting away’s easy flight of raised hand only to return

Sifting through around mad divide, anger a thing these days

We sit on sideways with defiance to remind

We even cousin famous sit in old haunting odes, though this isn’t one of them

We sit waiting ask just what is your crumb’s point

Get it right and we won’t pick you clean

… bones

No muddle middles

Just get it right

… bones

Pick you clean

We sit and figure how to use small stones to build things

Beyond you

We are here there to best you

We’re still

Were still

Are still

Will still

Knock knock

Doors

While we wait … always waiting …

We got those leavings,

Those thoughts

Crumbs

Crumbles

Crumbling

Picking, pecking

And we dance

Over them

In sideslide Crow clack steps

A So Then Sunday Continues (song – The Jonna Show Theme)

If you visit here (and for some reason come back, god bless ya) you may have noticed that the last couple of Sundays I’ve re-posted a couple of my parody tunes as a kinda Throwback Thursday thing just, well, on a Sunday, a So Then Sunday.

I’ve been doing this because, while I work Friday Night Lights High School football games up the Albany way for the season, I haven’t had opportunity to grab my little studio at work on said Friday nights to have my parody fun.

Now usually my parody tunes are political, my sort of musical opinion pieces if you will, but I’ve kept these “So Then Sundays” so far to the few songs that aren’t that. Things that are just a bit of fun.

So here is another and the post I wrote for it back in September of last year …

(PS … the scream in the song is an actual Jonna scream by the way)

—–

I record a show with two friends, have now going on, I don’t know, close to 10 years I think, minus a couple when I was let go at one group of radio stations and then picked up at another, “Happy Hour”. It’s Jonna Spilbor, you may know her, a regular contributor on Fox News and other shows as a legal expert and Keryl Pesce an author of two self empowerment books and the boss lady of a small publisher, The Little Pink Press, that helps others get their thoughts out there. A thank you for them. They are two of the most wonderful and whip smart women I have ever known. Ahhh, if only to live up to that wit and humor, something, I’m afraid, I often can’t keep up with on the show, but

Jonna, whose stories of mishaps and annoyances are a regular part of the fun, is having her house renovated. So we thought it would be funny for me to come up with a little intro/sting jingle type thing to lead into whatever her latest story of misadventure might be, a something I can do. This renovation has had her move back in with her Mom and Dad for the moment. Sounds almost like being kid again right, just out of college? Except none of us are kids so this situation is ripe with possible comedy and I don’t think she can get back on her parent’s insurance now.

Well, the little intro/sting thing wasn’t enough for me. If I can’t keep up in the show I do have other things I can do, so I searched out “sitcom” this past Friday afternoon at our production music site, a wealth of good choices, but found the best of these sitcomy beds for just what was in my head. A few words later that afternoon, some ‘singing’ in my little studio after everyone had thankfully left for the weekend (other than time spent at the house with my furry girls it’s my favorite of times) and then back home to build. I came up with this.

The theme song for the Jonna Show.

Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Back in her old room

Posters still up

Of boys that were a cause to just swoon

Cassidy brothers, David and Shawn, Travolta and even Scott Baio too

Jonna’s back home her own house is a mess

Remodeling disarray causing much stress

She thought then move back with the rents

Temporary sure but with Momma food scents

She’ll just need remember live when in Rome

But what could go wrong with moving back home?

They’d of course get along

Her single habits they wouldn’t grow long

No Jonna wardrobe mishaps would occur

Her raccoons though they will miss her

Nance won’t ask of margarita again

Or glasses of wine where she never says when

Or helping with the garbage

But in outfits to send

Young boys round the bend  

Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Jonna’s thankful to avoid all the stress

Of that house of hers being a mess

And timelines that will most surely get stretched

Nance & John won’t now be alone

Cause their Jonna, she’s back home!

Frankenberry In A Straw Bowl?

A good friend and co-worker, Patty, sent me a text this morning while she works from home. It was just one word with a picture.

“Breakfast”

Now besides brimming with obvious snickering pride at her choice I was also proud that she was starting her day in such a nutritious and sugary sweet vitamin charged way, I mean it is important to try and eat healthy …

Corn Whole Grain ( Includes , Corn Bran ) , Corn Meal , Sugar , Marshmallow ( Sugar , Dextrose , Corn Starch Modified , Corn Syrup , Gelatin , Malic Acid , Flavors Natural & Artificial , Citric Acid , Red 40 , Blue 1 , and , Blue 2 ) , Corn Starch Modified , Corn Syrup , Canola , and/or , Rice Bran Oil , Salt , Tricalcium Phosphate , Trisodium Phosphate , Red 40 , Flavors Natural & Artificial , Wheat Flour , Peanuts Flour , Vitamin E , ( , Tocopherols Mixed Vitamin E , ) , and , BHT , added , To Preserve Freshness , Vitamins & Minerals , : , Calcium Carbonate , Zinc , Ammonium Phosphate , Iron , Sodium Ascorbate Vitamin C , Niacinamide Vitamin B3 , Pyridoxine Hydrochloride HCl , Riboflavin Vitamin B2 , Thiamine Mononitrate Vitamin B1 , Vitamin A Palmitate , Folic Acid Vitamin B9 , Vitamin B12 , Vitamin D3

… but the most important part of her start?

You’ve probably already noticed but yes, she’s putting all this nutritiony sugary sweet vitamin charged goodness, from a Family Size 50th Anniversary (*) Monster Mash box of nutritiony sugary sweet vitamin charged goodness no less, in a freakin’ straw bowl!!!!! A FREAKIN’ STRAW BOWL!!!!! (**)

Very nicely cereal played Patty!!

Every now and then your friends confirm why it is, indeed, that they are your friends.

—–

(* – Frankenberry cereal came out when I was 7. 50th Anniversary Box? … damn)

(** – or sippy bowl if you must)

Another So Then Sunday (song – It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee)

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee

Back in March Celie gave me an idea, a tune about cats peeing where they shouldn’t.

(Original post)

To Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”

Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me

Seriously?

I don’t know how

Where?

In the shower, you know

Man

I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you

Alright

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal  

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along  

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9th life will pass  

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused

Gotta be some other cat who goes and pees against doors

I will tell her that maybe it’s because of the dogs

I’ll just make sure they don’t catch me

When they figure mad cause

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

Celie came in

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me I do say

I didn’t pee I will say

Celie came in then

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me

Meow

A So Then Sunday (song – We Let Billy Drive The Car)

We Let Billy Drive The Car

Ok, it’s not quite a Throwback Thursday but I thought maybe a So Then Sunday might be in order today.

Apologies to Tolerable Tuesdays, Frantic Fridays or Wishy Washy Wednesdays but, well, today just ain’t your day.

No, really, look at the calendar, today just ain’t your day.

Monday and Saturday? You know your gig.

So a So Then Sunday it is, like a Thursday’s Throwback but just, you know, later in the week.

From a year ago.

Had a thought of grabbing an instrumental from our production music site, something I didn’t know, to see if I could write some lyrics to it and have a little fun. For the manic story idea in my head the instrumental just had to be fast.

Moved in fast

Wanted to grab cash

Had an inside

Point us to the stash

All gassed up

Had some cool masks

Famous baddies from

Old time gangster flicks

I was Cagney

Tommy was Edward G

No weapons though

Way too much the risk

Just a bluff

And the fear that goes with

Work the room posing threats

Now that’s biz

Grab the loot scoot

Back door left ajar

Plan was ticking

Like a really expensive watch

Into the alley

Out of sight of cops

Billy couldn’t be far … right?

“Hey, where’s Billy?”

“I don’t know man”

“but he knew the plan, we practiced, He knew this alley”

“I told you we shouldn’t let Billy the drive the car”

“Hey, you agreed man!”

“I had no choice, he’s your brother and I ain’t pissin’ off your mother”

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted to just prove her really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

Told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

We lit on foot then

Tommy and me we ran

Plan had been rocking

But now we’re on the lam

With nothing even resembling a plan

Other than shucking and really duckin’ now

Hidin’ round corners

And peakin’ round some bends

Tryin’ keep the coppers

From their ends

Cursing Billy to the hell he will attend

All in my head while we ran and ran and ran

Just tryin’ not to end up in the can

At least that’s if we had another plan

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted prove her to be really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

Told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

We shouldn’t have let Billy drive the car

Tommy said that we wouldn’t go very far

Except the slammer that’s just right up the state

But poor Billy he just could never rate

To the ones who always judged the most

A lost cause on their paper notes

He’s the one they say see ya later to

And I had no couch for that

“Oh shit Tommy, tell me that can’t …”

“I don’t know man …  I don’t wanna think about it”

“Billy, where you been?”

You were so right to let me drive the car

Coppers been sent a little way out far

Tripped an alarm at a different spot

An inside knew a perfect wild goose

At your plans on your wrist’s spot

Ticking along with your planned depart

I waited knowing just where your legs would stop

We were so right to let Billy drive the car

Tossed our masks and cash into the back

Cagney and Edward G they’d be so proud

And ode to gangster’s legends of the old

A new chapter maybe in that gangster ode

Of Tommy and me a new story be told

A one to finally make my momma proud

Of when we let Bill-lee drive the car

Of when we let Billy drive the car