Smiley Anders for Sept. 25, 2008
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Steve Davison’s little story illustrates how Gustav affected our vocabularies:
“My neighbors George and Melanie Clark and their young sons Taylor and Colin were without power, so I fed them an extension cord from my generator.
“When I went to check on them, Melanie said the youngest boy, Colin, told her that I was bringing them something to drink.
“When queried as to why he thought that, Colin said, ‘Daddy said Mr. Steve was giving us some juice.’ ”
The songs roll on
Our Worst Song Contest reminds me of songs I had long forgotten, luckily.
Robby Zeringue says of “Color My World” by Chicago: “It’s hard to tell if it’s a long song or a funeral dirge. I guess it could be both.”
And this surfing tune causes a sinking feeling:
Linda Roussel, of Lutcher, says, “I think ‘Surfin’ Bird’ gets my vote as the worst song ever. The lyrics are a total of about 5-6 words repeated over and over.”
Leon Minvielle III, of New Iberia, agrees: “Give me a break. Ugh.”
The song, released by The Trashmen in 1963 and The Ramones in 1977, goes “Bird bird, bird, b-bird’s the word.” And that’s pretty much it.
Trapped in Fishville
Mark Brown offers this heartfelt entry in our Worst Song Contest:
“Fall of 1962, camping out in Fishville (Grant Parish). Transistor radio the size of a pack of cigarettes could pick up only KDBS in Alexandria playing continuously ‘Paaaaaatches, I’m coming to you!’ by Dickey Lee.”
Wrong message
After a reader suggested a food bank for squirrels who lost their food sources during Gustav, we heard from Roy:
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