I was thinking this morning mostly about Pop Culture, and how some of it has managed to sneak it's way into our minds and hearts so thoroughly that it'd take years of intensive psychotherapy and maybe even some very painful Rolfing to clear one's mind of it.
See, wha' had happen' was this: A new joke appeared on the horizon, to describe RMB and/or anyone you really dislike. What do RMB (or anyone you loathe) and a Slinky have in common? Both just sit there and do nothing, but it's great fun to watch them roll down stairs.
So, while I hung curtains in her office yesterday afternoon, the daughter was trying to sing the Slinky song, and strangely enough both of us could clearly remember it; the song, the horrible 50's-esque commercials, but neither of us could sing the words because they had been replaced by John Krisfalusi's Ren and Stimpy version, "Log." We both stood there, big-eyed and gasping for air, trying to remember the Slinky Song words, and all we could get out was "It's Log, Log, Log!"
What walks down stairs/alone or in pairs/and makes a slinkety sound?/A spring, a spring/a marvelous thing/everyone knows it's Slinky!
That's the bit that would not come. The opening of the joyous jingle we all grew up with. I think that little song is as ingrained in our collective minds as the Coca Cola Santa Claus with his red cheeks and his hourglass bottle in hand, and the Trix Rabbit's eternal struggles with morality and theft, and maybe even The Incredible, Edible Egg. But for me along came Billy West and John K. with Ren and Stimpy ("It's all done with stewmeat and puppets!") and utterly replaced my childhood memories with THIS--
What rolls down stairs/alone or in pairs/rolls over your neighbor's dog?/What's great for a snack/it fits on your back/it's Log, Log, Log!/It's Log, Log, it's big, it's heavy, it's wood!/It's Log, it's Log, it's better than bad, it's good!
Which to me is utterly hilarious, but then again you're talking to the guy who as a child was enraptured every Christmas when the Coca Cola singers would come on, standing in a Christmas tree shape in the twilight's gloaming, snow gently falling, and they'd acapella "I'd like to teach the world to sing." I have a perfectly clear memory of lying on my stomach in the den in my pyjamas, somehow squirreled up under the Xmas tree, flying around a scale model of a Klingon cruiser I had just finished building, and that commercial came on the great big console television that used to sit in the den, and my eyes got all anime round and I sang along, quietly.
My god what a pushover I was. But, with years of hardship, cruel private school hazing, and a failed marriage I managed to grow a thick enough shell to prevent most of that sappy commercialism from infecting me. Thank heavens for that, or I'd be just another consumer animal, digging from one clearance bin to another.
I guess it could have been worse, tho. It could have been Dick van Dyke singing about dirty shafts and flues.