"Just don't give him anything good to hit"....

"Just don't give him anything good to hit". I still remember those words 38 years after they were said to me.

But I'll get to that in a minute. If I do this right it will all make sense.



Finished up a full weekend of a soccer tournament with my youngest. She plays on a U12 team...means the girls are all under 12. My girl is 10. That's way under 12. It's 83 percent of 12.
She's not the best player on the team. She never will be. She doesn't play the most minutes. She never will. She's not a high scorer...or kicks the ball the hardest...or is the fastest..or most aggressive.

I'm ok with that.

She tries hard. She listens to the coach. She cheers on her teammates. She is an important part of the team. She feels like she's part of the group.

I'm ok with that too.

This is a team loaded with successful girls. I see future class presidents on this team. I see remarkable young ladies whose futures are as bright as they want them to be. I think these girls can all be anything they aspire to. This is a good group of kids.

My daughter included...maybe even my daughter especially.

So this weekend her team played their hearts out. They won every game. (As a matter of fact they haven't lost a game all season) 36 hours after they played the first game of the weekend they played in the championship.

It was a 2-2 tie.

They played one five minute overtime, no change...then another, still tied.

It finally came down to a penalty shoot out.

The other team scored more then we did.

The girls were upset. Some cried, most mustered smiles while accepting their second place trophies. They were all dissapointed.

It was a quiet ride home. She took a shower, we made dinner.

In the shower I could hear her singing. I knew the healing had begun.

After dinner she wanted to snuggle with me in the living room.

Now she and Mom are going through old photos and laughing about the memories those pictures hold (although if I hear her say, "Daddy you were skinny" one more time, I might have to put an end to their trip down memory lane).

So, that same memory lane brings me back to the title of this blog. It was the story I told my daughter on the ride home while she was still down. It wasn't meant to make her feel better, it was just meant to let her know that I knew how she was feeling.

Here goes...
1974..ten years old.
First year of Little League.
League Championship game.
All tied up.
Extra innings.
Somehow I'm pitching, although I was a first baseman, I sometimes pitched.
One of the best players in the league, Steve Graves, comes up to bat.
He is 12, I'm 83 percent of his age...and maybe 65 pecent of his talent.
My coach, who I knew at the time as Uncle Norman, although he wasn't actually my uncle, calls time out and comes out to the mound.
He walks up to me, put's his hand on my shoulder and says, "Don't give him anything good to hit".
I nod.
Uncle Norman walks off the field.
I step on the mound.
Steve Graves steps into the batter's box. (not that it matters but he was a lefty)
In my mind I'm thinking, "don't give him anything good to hit...don't give him anything good to hit".
I wind up.
I let it fly.
Steve Graves takes a mighty cut.
Homerun.
We lose the championship.

I gave him something good to hit.

I did because I was only ten years old.

The reason I told my daughter this story was to show her that even though I still remember that like it was yesterday, the pain didn't last. It was important to me to try to win, but I didn't, and life went on. It was only a game. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't important.

I'm not diminishing the importance sports can be in your life. But for nearly 100% of us they need to be viewed as a trip down a side street on the road of life. I've had some of the best experiences of my life on these side streets, I've had some less than great experiences as well. My life wouldn't be what it is if I didn't go down those roads.

Do well in school. Be kind, caring, and polite in society. Try your best and if it's not good enough then try to do a little better the next time. That's life. That's important.

Those things and having big feet.

That's important too.

Peace and love.

One Lovely Blog Award

So, I'm a nominee.
Doesn't mean I won anything, but at least I was nominated.

Akin to Alfred Hitchcock. Can you believe Hitch never won an academy award? They tossed him an honorary award (The Thalberg award, which apparently goes to the greatest director of all time that gets screwed by the movie industry and never won an Oscar. Named after Irving Thalberg who directed such classics as Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter. Well, not really, but I bet you're picking up what I'm laying down)


Anywho, I've been doing this blogging business for a little more than a year now. I've found it to be a much more pleasurable pastime than my old hobby which involved nudity and bike riding...two things that should never be uttered in the same sentence, let alone practiced. Or visualized.

But I digress.

I do love the writing though.It finds me able to do something I enjoy and "sort of" sharing it with folks is a bit of a thrill. I think the people that read my blogs get a pretty good feel for who I am and what makes me tick, even if you don't know me well. I like people that get it. I'm not such a fan of those that don't.

Back to the award.

Following the protocol that goes with this nomination is a requirement that I offer up seven random facts about me.
Here we go...

I'll call this
Seven Random Facts About Me

1) I spent the first fifteen years of my life lying about my middle name. Up until then it was Joe. At least I didn't take a pen to my birth certificate and add an "a" to Ann like someone in my family did. Someone that's not one of my two brothers. Someone that's my sister. My sister, the well respected nurse. Just don't let her near any birth certificates.
Oh, my middle name is Joel. I guess I didn't need to add an "l" to my birth certificate like someone in my family did. My Mom did it for me.


2) Pete likes the Kinks more than the Stones. Need I say more?


3) Although my real career has been in the fruit and vegetable business for over thirty years I never consumed a banana until this decade.


4) I'd feel less anxiety having to stand in front of an auditorium full of strangers and give a five minute impromptu unrehearsed speech on a subject I know nothing about than I would hanging a picture on a wall in my own living room. Remember, I'm the guy that nailed the wheels to my pine box derby car. Well done.


5) Has never met a person named Pete that I didn't like. I don't think. Speaking of Pete's you like, anyone remember Pete and Pete on Nickelodeon back in the early 90's? Best kid's show. Ever. Plus two Petes for the price of one.


6) Once lost 50 pounds. Then gained back 60. Kid you not. I suck. Actually I eat. More than I should. Oh (and here's an edit from the original post)..I've since lst 50 again. I rock.


7) I'd like to be in a play. The memorization may be an insurmountable hurdle though.


The next protocol that goes with being nominated is to list blogs that I follow (supposed to be ten, but God's honest truth, I don't follow ten blogs), so I'll steal from the seven things about myself and list seven blogs that I recommend

SEVEN BLOGS FOR SEVEN DAYS

Dining with the Duleys - Actually this is just one of the Duleys, Joe. Joe and Charly Duley are two of the most creative, artistic, and overall decent folks that I know. Oh, and Joe's a Beatles fan and Charly is a Brit. How do you like them apples? This link actually goes to something that Joe writes for the Examiner, but to me it's still Dining with the Duleys. Oh, and be sure to listen to their radio show Tuesday at 7:30 on WMPG 90.9. You're welcome.

Scratch Baking -A blog from my favorite Bakery and if you know me, that's high praise. It's so popular that unless you catch it right, there's a decent chance that you may be waiting in line for the fresh bagels to come out of the kitchen with about twenty others. Fortunately, I've never witnessed any fisticuffs amongst the huddled masses. Maybe a scrum or two, but no fisticuffs. Oh, and it's ten minutes from my house..and I'm a "regular".

The Honey Exchange - A nice blog from a guy with a wicked sense of humor and a brilliant wife. The Honey Exchange is their business that is about all things bees. Great concept...saw a need and filled it. Well done and I hope their endeavour is as hugely successful as it deserves to be. Bring your honey to buy some honey and all other honey  accoutrements. Oh, and did I mention they sell beer, mead, and wine? Well, they do.

Julie True Kingsley's Blog - Would you believe all of these first four blogs originate from my home town? They do. Pretty creative little hood I live in. Julie is an honest to goodness writer (yes, I mean published) and her style puts mine to shame. Oh, and she was the one that nominated me. Thank you Julie.

Food Coma - Joe Ricchio is one crazy mofo. Joe appears in all things media with the main goal (at least as it appears to me) is to get the messge out that you do not hve to accept the lowest common denominator of food choices in the gastronomically diverse state that is Maine. He blogs, writes for Maine magazine, produces and stars in videos, bar tends, and makes cameos on local newscasts...all promoting his love of food. Although we are "facebook" friends we do not know each other, but I did see him perusing local offerings at the Portland Public Market in Monument Square one day this Summer and I told him it reminded me of what it must have been like to watch Ted Williams pick out his bat before stepping into the on deck circle. Mad props.

pORTcITYdAILYpHOTO -I like pictures. I wish I had the eye that some of my gifted photographer friends do...but I don't, so that's my cross to bear. Shed no tears for me, I'll be fine. This site has some pretty cool photos from scenes around town. I enjoy the clever captions as much as I do the photos. Hope you do too.

all music - Alright, finally a blog that isn't local..not like that's necessarily a good thing, it just is what it is. This is a good site because it speaks to all music (hence it's name) not just what the "people who know such things" tell me is the music I should be listening to. Screw them.

So on that positive note, this one's done.

tongue thinker

Random post time....

Anybody remember this little ditty?

I think it was called "Two Irishmen"



sample line....
"Cocktails, ginger ale, seven cents a glass..if you don't like it..."

That would have been known by every kid in my elementary school when I was there in the early to mid seventies. I vividly remember singing this with a group of friends whilst walking home from Thornton Heights elementary school.

We loved it because of how "almost" naughty it was...
You know...the natural build up to that dirty word , when all of a sudden , presto! Not the word you were expecting.
How terribly thrilling for a third grader

So, for you kids , that sample line turns into,
"shove it up your..ask me no more questions tell me no more lies".

That and many more close calls. It's not until the last line that you actually get to swear...
"If you get hit with a bucket of sh*t be sure to close your eyes"

Truer words were never written.

Oh, and the protagonists were Irishmen, Everybody wanted to be Irish when we were kids. Don't know why, maybe it had something to do with green...or leprechanus..or Irish Rovers. Beats me. All I know was that Notre Dame was my favorite college as a kid. Once again for no apparent reason except that their nickname was the Fighting Irish.



Who in their right mind don't love that mascot.
Better than, oh, I don't know, this one..



It's a slug. A banana slug at that.
Except it got a cool plug in Pulp Fiction from Vincent Vega



Right?

So I guess it would make it better than this one


The infamous Red Riot from my High School days.
The year I got cut from the basketball team they offerred me the job as dressing as the Red Riot for games, you know, to stay close to my team mates.
I accepted.
I was the first and last to perform the dry hump on our archrival's mascot, the Portland Bulldog.



The coup de grace was that I put a bag over his head and tied his front paws behind his back before I did it.
That's the stuff legends are made out of.

...tangent there.....

Then there was this tune...same idea, but no ethicity involved with this one. It's a classic

sung in a church mind you.

I can thank Dr. Demento for both of those being permanently ingrained in my mind.
Thanks.
I guess.

Oh, I had a first today. I called 911. No kidding. I did.

(No it has nothing to do with the young girl who gave me the prolonged finger because I objected to her distracted texting and driving. That just pissed me off. Royally). Does anyone even say royally is that sense anymore? I just did.

Let me set the scene...
In a line of cars at a red light.
Fairly busy road.
Something catches my eye.
There's some commotion coming from the house just ahead of me and off to the right.
I see an agitated woman getting out of a car parked in the driveway, flailing her arms and gesturing wildly, oh, and hollering too. A lot.
Then a gentleman (not really a gentleman) that appeared to be loading that same car with junk throws what appears to be all of his worldly possesions in a box across the front yard. Like Tom Brady. Only different,
Somebody obviously isn't happy. Two peoples obviously aren't happy.
Light turns green, but I don't want to go. This is better than watching replacement refs blow game winning touchdown calls on Monday Night Football.
So as traffic starts to move he charges her.
She has a friend (I don't know where she was...maybe hiding in the trunk?) that rushes between them
Screaming gesturing lady somehow has an umbrella that she repeatedly keeps swinging, whacking him on the top of the head with it, thwarting his advancement. I'll bet she rocks at Whack A Mole .


Reminded me of Ruth Buzzi.


Obsolete reference for you kids.

Anyway, it didn't look good.
Hence the 911 call.
By the way, I sucked at the details to the 911 operator.
I'm surprised they didn't arrest me for withholding evidence.
Oh, and so you know, your cell phone goes on lock down for five minutes after calling 911.
So don't call 911 if you were planning on ordering a pizza after.
I think it's so they can call you back if they have too.
That or they're doing some sort of subversive goverment mind control.

Just an average Joe (or Pete in this case) doing his civic duty

That was some crazy ssshhhaving cream

Oh, and the tongue thinker...that's me

That's not me, that's Justin Bieber, Apparently he is a tongue thinker too.

I guess that's better than being called a knuckle dragger.


Or Lola.


That's all I've got for now.

Shave every day and you'll always look keen.

Don't make me repeat myself...

Came across this whilst waiting for my youngest in the safety of my car while she was at soccer practice in the wind and rain...a cold and blustery day , if you will. God love her.

This, my friends, is solid.

Here's why...
1) Have you ever seen a band that is more laid back than this one? How about this for a lineup?
Playing drums is  "Hollywood" Hayward. Number 21 from Coolidge High. Guard. You know, from the White Shadow.




On bass is Kanye West's Dad. Willie. Yup, Willie West. That may be why Kanye is so pissed off all the time. Complete opposite of his Dad. Have you ever seen anyone play bass leaning back in an easy chair? Dude is chill. Chilly Willy.




Guitar is Rollo Larson, Lamont's shady friend on Sanford and Son




Rollo actually was the love child of Fred and Aunt Esther. Rumor has it that's what did Fred's wife , Elizabeth, in. Then again, everyone knows that Elizabeth and Grady did the junkyard boogie more than a couple of times. It's no wonder Fred was grabbing his heart all the time.That makes Rollo Lamont's step brother...or half brother...or brother from another Mother. Not sure on that.

Last but not least is Rodney Allen Rippy (I'm not even going to bother posting a photo of Rodney Allen Rippy because no one's going to see it and say, "Oh, so that's Rodney Allen Rippy. Just the name Rodney Allen Rippy is all that's needed) on keyboards. I don't really recall much about Rodney Allen Rippy, except that he had three names, and I was familiar with him "back in the day". Must have been on some After School Special. Maybe it was the one where three orphans from "very different" backgrounds live with the same foster parents waiting to get adopted, all the while getting bullied by the star quaterback who only acts that way because his dad is an alcoholic and his younger sister is a pregnant teen. Or something like that. Then again, maybe he was on one of the jello commercials. Who knows? Maybe it was Burger King.Either way, I hope he found success as an adult. I truly do....maybe I should have found his picture.
Alright, here it is...



There's no truth that Rodney Allen Rippy grew up to be Bobby Brown. None. I don't think.

B) What really struck me is when he starts repeating the line "I know" close to fourteen thousand consecutive times. Actually I had to listen to it four times and tried to count along. Not easy. The first time I came up with 374. The next time was 8. Then the next two times I came up with 26. So I'm sticking with that. You know something? 26 is the perfect number of times to repeat those words, 25 would have left you wanting....27 would have been overkill. Way to many. If you didn't bother to listen/watch the clip (although for the life of me, I can't believe your life is so busy or important that you can't invest the 2:09 that this clip runs. Hell, I've wasted 45 minutes writing this post) you can jump to the 54 second mark.

Oh, and I like the little groove that "Hollywood" (the drummer) kicks into at the exact same time. Check it out...again. You're welcome.

3) I've said this before and I'll say it again...ain't music great? So now this song will always remind me of the cold and blustery day waiting for my daughter to finish soccer practice in the rain. Guaranteed. I will not forget that.

Love it.

So it goes.

It was twenty years ago today

Well, actually it was one year ago today.
One year ago today I wrote my first blog. I've attached it to the bottom of this post..for old times sake.

63 posts...that's more than one a week. That's more times than I've vacuumed the house in the last year, For reals.


I've had a few decent blogs...two of my favorites were both two parters (and since I've never been shy about shameless self promotion) I'll share them with you now. In case you missed them the first time, enjoy. If you've already read them, treat it like a library book, and take it out again.

First, my day with Christopher Walken
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-day-with-christopher-walken-part-one.html

and part two...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-day-with-christopher-walken-part-two.html

Then there was the infamous hold up story...another two parter
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one.html
and this
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one-twoor-this-is-one-tooor.html

and for good measure, maybe the one about my good friend Stephen King and the Boston Red Sox (who are currently not my good friends)
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/12/whos-guy-that-writes-those-books.html

So that's it, a bit of rehashing, which, come to think of it has been a fairly common thread through most of these.

Anyone want to lay odds on me making it to September 15 2013?
The smart money is on probably not.



Almost forgot....here's my post from one year ago.....
___________________________________________________________
Going to give this a go.
Nobody has ever said to me, "why don't you write a blog?" I never even considered it until my lovely wife asked me last night, "What's that song that goes - I really love your peaches want to shake your tree?" After my quick answer (music trivia has always been a personal strength - some folks can build things, I can tell you Badfingers top three hits). When I got to the pompatus of love line I thought to myself, "now that's a great word and doesn't get nearly the play it deserves", hence, this ridiculous endeavour on my part. That's how my brain works. Maybe at some point I'll actually bother to learn how to create a layout beyond the kindergarten level that is this first crack. So it goes.

Don't know what to expect, how often I'll post, or if I'll have anything interesting to share. A few things I do know...this will suck for awhile...I expect nothing beyond rank amateurism for quite some time..probably won't land on a theme or style (other than the parentheses and dot dot dot...that I obviously use as my fall back punctuation).

Sure there will be the occasional flash of genius - like the awesomeness of the name of my blog- but more often than not it will be the meandering and noodling style that I'm currently employing, but all things considered...who doesn't love to meander and noodle once in awhile.
Speaking of noodles, here's what Mr. Noodle does with a banana...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBOsz03ZZZ0

(the sole reason for that was to see if I could execute a link)

Anyway, don't know how to share this...if anyone would read it anyway...or if this is my first and last.

dot dot dot

love love love

Happy Annivesary my love

This is sweet and so are you

I loved you from the moment I saw you

You looked at me , that's all you had to do
I feel it now, I hope you feel it too

We've seen London, we've seen France......



Mary liked to pour gravy on John's ______ .

Does that title ring a bell?
Of course it does...
Anyone remember Match Game?

Actually that's Charles Nelson Reilly.

Match Game seemed like a part of my growing up. I think it was on continuously from the time I was, oh, I don't know, maybe nine until I lost interest in it. It could still be on now in some fashion for all I know.

For you youngsters or readers not from the States (believe it or not, Pompatus of Pete has a decent following in Russia...and Germany...and even Latvia of all places. Kid you not, Latvia), Match Gane was a game show with two contestants..


One host..the one and only Gene Rayburn (of the long skinny microphone Clan)


...and six "celebrity" panelists


Actually, celebrity might have been a bit of a stretch.
As a kid I had no idea who Charles Nelson Reilly was..I just knew him as the guy on the top right "celebrity" spot. Right next to Brett Sommers. "Who's Brett Summers"? you may ask. My reply would be, "I don't know".

Richard Dawson parlayed his stint as Newkirk in Hogan's Hero's into the middle spot, bottom row on Match Game, which eventually led to him hosting The Family Feud, a game EVERYONE knows, but, let's call a spade a spade, not nearly up to the calibre of Match Game.

Those three seemed to be regulars, if my memory serves me right. Maybe throw in Betty White more often than not as well.The other two to three spots would change each week. These would be celebs not quite up to par with those four. If you can believe that.

These were the type of "celebrities" that would be on the Merv Griffin show. I'm not talking about the first guest type, more likely they would be at the far end of the couch, coming on in the last five minutes usually reserved for up and coming comedians. Or maybe you'd see them perform on the Jerry Lewis telethon, but in the overnight hours when Jerry wasn't quite fried yet.


(I don't know if those numbers at the bottom of the screen are still active, but if you're from either Orange or Dutchess County why don't you give it a try...for Jerry's kid's.)

Or maybe these celebs would be on one of the trillion variety shows that used to be on back in the day...like the Flip Wilson Show...or Donny and Marie...or Sonny & Cher...the Brady Bunch. Christ, I think even Lola Falana had a variety show back in the 70's.

Remember her?



Lola's the tall one in the middle.

Possibly these second tier celebs were bit players on one of the gagillions of sitcoms that were on then as well. For instance, it wouldn't be Bob Newhart (from the first Bob Newhart show. You know the one where he was a shrink) it would be someone from his ensemble cast...like Suzanne Pleshette, who played his wife...or Bill Dailey, his next door neighbor Howard , who was a pilot or something...or Peter Bonerz (insert the Beavis and Butthead snicker here), who shared receptionists with Bob but was a dentist or orthodontist..or Marcia Wallace, said sassy receptionist.

Get the picture?



Now you do....

So , off the top of my head I recall "celebs" like ...
Nipsy Russell
Gary Burghoff
Jimmie Walker
Avery Schreiber
Bert Convy
Orson Bean
Jo Ann Pflug
...holy cow, where'd that last one come from?

Swear to God. These are real people. I think. Google 'em. I dare you. Might be a few mispellings sprinkled in there for good measure.

I think the reason I liked Match Game so much as a kid was because I knew they were all behaving a little naughty...with the double entendre fill in the blanks..half of them seemed to be smoking...and I've got a sneaking suspicion that having a bottle in the dressing room was part of the contract.

Now...how to wrap this car crash of a blog up?

How about this?

I predict the game show format to make a comeback. "Reality" tv seems to be where it's at currently, but that can't really last, can it? America isn't isn't that stupid, is it?

I'll take one Ed Sullivan for as many two headed honey boo boo american idol survivor housewives as you could fit barrel.

Stuff that in Charles Nelson Reilly's pipe and smoke it.


Dumb Dora was so dumb she used to grow _______ in the community garden.

...and wouldn't you know, I never did get around to explaining the premise of the game.

So it goes.

It's deuce, not douche...

That sums it up.

and this is the version..

Not this next one, christ, they play chopsticks at the end of this version for crying out loud..and, chopsticks played badly. Just my opinion but I think Mannfred Mann made a career out of sucking off other artists songs. At least they never destroyed a Bob Dylan song...oh wait a minute, how could I forget their awful version of The Mighty Quinn (Quinn the Eskimo). Go ahead and google or youtube that one yourself. I've had enough.

Ok Pete, get off your pedestal.

What brings us here today is the full explanation of this song's convoluted lyrics. As I've done before, I'll break down the lyrics for you so that the next time (or first time for some of you) hear this song you'll get to experience it with a whole new understanding and depth that didn't exist for you before.

Also, as before, my comments will apper in red so as not to confuse my poetic explanations with the actual lyrics of the song.

You're welcome.

Here we go...Blinded by the Light.

Madman drummers bummers and indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat

This line means nothing. Bruce was just showing off by using both off centered rhyme(where interior words in a sentence rhyme) and single, double, and triple pure rhyme at the end of each line, which you wouldn't pick up on until you get to the next line. Obviously.

In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat

I'd rather not speak to this one, it's so obvious
With a boulder on my shoulder feelin kinda older I tripped the merry-go-round

You've heard of chip on your shoulder, right? Well this is the same, but bigger, much bigger. I'm talking HUGE.
With this very unpleasing sneezing and wheezing the calliope crashed to the ground

See how big it was? We're talking thousands of dollars of damage here. Told you.

Some all-hot half-shot was headin for the hot spot snappin his fingers clappin his hands

This is a metaphor ...or maybe it's an idom. Like me biting off more than I could chew with this blog.

And some fleshpot mascot was tied into a lovers knot with a whatnot in her hand

The fleshpot was the mascot of the Asbury Park Polka Dot (Bruce did a brief stint in a square dancing group that went by that name). Wait a minute, now he's got me doing it too.
And now young scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot and throws his lover in the sand
bow-chicka-bow-wow
And some bloodshot forget-me not whispers daddys within earshot save the buckshot turn up the band
"shut the front door"....if you know what I mean

And she was blinded by the light.
Slang for having to clean the toilet...you'll see....
cut loose like a deuce
Here's the line.
My friend Steve Buscemi told me that he and Springsteen rented a house on the Jersey shore the Summer that this song was written. Steve said the E Street band used to have contests to see which band member could do the longest...umm, how do I put this...you know, "back the big brown motorhome out of the garage"....or "dropping the anchor"...or maybe "freeing the chocolate hostages"...or how about a little less graphic "going number two". There you have it. Sorry.
Another runner in the night. blinded by the light
More slang for going boom boom.
She got down but she never got tight, but she'll make it alright
She didn't like it, but she sucked it up (no, not literally), took care of the mess, and got on with things.
Oh, and as an aside, guess who always won these bathroom contests? You guessed it. Clarence Clemons. No surpise there. I think that's where he got the nickname "The Big Man".
Some brimstone baritone anticyclone rolling stone preacher from the east
He's talking about Little Richard. Kid you not.
He says: dethrone the dictaphone, hit it in it's funny bone, that's where they expect it least
Except Richard said it so fast it sounded like "A whop bop a lua a whop bam boo"!
And some new-mown chaperone was standin in the corner all alone watchin the young girls dance
a stalker with a new haircut
And some fresh-sown moonstone was messin with his frozen zone to remind him of the feeling of romance
wink wink, nudge nudge...say no more...you know what I mean?



Yeah he was blinded by the light.
You notice it's "he" now, and not "she"..what the frig is going on?
cut loose like a deuce
Actually this is no longer about the E street band's "longest dump" contest..now he's playing cards. Just discarded a two. A two sucks in poker. They might be good in Acey Ducey, but I don't really recall.
Another runner in the night. blinded by the light
There's refers to Bruce's brother that stared at the Sun for two long. Blind as a bat. He was a marathoner. It's true. Look it up. Best blind runner in New Jersey
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight
no comment

Some silicone sister with her managers mister told me I got what it takes
Ummm, a well endowed girl, right?
She said I'll turn you on sonny to something strong if you play that song with the funky break
The song she wanted to hear was "Doo Wa Diddy (diddy dum diddy doo) by, you guessed it, Manfred Mann.
And go-cart mozart was checkin out the weather chart to see if it was safe to go outside
Ok, this is getting a little tedious...please reference my comment on the first line of the song
And little early-pearly came in by her curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride

This line just goes to show that Bruce liked smoking the "boo boo bama" back in the day
Oh, some hazard from harvard was skunked on beer playin backyard bombardier
A drunk ivy league college student playing jarts..yes, jarts. Old school.
Yes and scotland yard was trying hard, they sent a dude with a calling card
I just spent 20 minutes trying photoshop a fake Scotland Yard business card here, but it's obviously beyond me. To bad, it was awesome.
 He said, do what you like, but don't do it here
...and that line was at the bottom of the card. See? Awesome.
Well I jumped up, turned around, spit in the air, fell on the ground, asked him which was the way back home
He said take a right at the light, keep going straight until right, and then boy you're on your own
Seriously, maybe my two favorite lines in any song. Ever. No lie. Genius.

And now in zanzibar a shootin star was ridin in a side car hummin a lunar tune
   


literal enough for you?

Yes, and the avatar said blow the bar but first remove the cookie jar, were gonna teach those boys to laugh too soon
Are we almost done?

And some kidnapped handicap was complaining that he caught the clap from some mousetrap he bought last night
I think this has something to do with Gilligan's Island, Bruce's favorite television show at the time. Still is as a matter of fact. Mine too. God's honest truth, I asked my youngest daughter today if she knew what Gilligan's Island was. Not a clue. I guess I've failed as a parent. Some day she'll understand all those references I make like, "little buddy" or "three hour cruise" or maybe even help explain my penchant for only building things out of bamboo. We'll see.
Well I unsnapped his skull cap and between his ears I saw a gap but he'd figured he'd be all right
...and this is a reference to burying Paul McCartney, but you have to play it backward. Try it.


He was just blinded by the light. cut loose like a deuce
Another runner in the night. blinded by the light
I think we're good on this now, don't you?
Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the sun
Bruce's blind marathoning brother did not listen to his Mom.
Oh but mama that's where the fun is
Don't talk back to Mother.


and that's all there is, there is no more.

All makes sense now, doesn't it? Crystal clear.
___________________________________

You don't know how close I am to posting the video of Mannfred Mann destroying Quinn the Eskimo.

Another time.