I thought this was a joke. It isn’t, it was a real commercial. I don’t often pull these out of my bag of evil, but this commercial calls for a lolcat…

Seriously, as you watch this, glance at the kitteh’s face periodically. It enhances the helium-induced psychosis of this ad.

Photo by Art Rock (Hennie)
The Leezard and I are relocating to a new domicile at the end of this month, so posts for the next few weeks will mostly be of the short and sweet variety. It’s too hard to be snarky when your desk is buried in boxes.

Pete (and his shirt) is my new hero. I can’t tell if this guy is all kinds of awesome or all kinds of wrong, but I’m buying it either way. I think as a kid I would have loved him. Kids love the absurd, and Pete seems to get that. BUT THAT DOESN’T SPARE HIM FROM THE ACID TONGUE OF THE EVILCUPCAKED ONE! Shall we begin?

As I was searching for other camp songs as performed by Pete (and his shirt), I came across this incredibly strange video of Pete (sans his shirt and dressed like he’s about to perform some occult ceremony) and some other guy in bunny ears who looks like he plays the roll of Booger* in Pete’s gang (other members possibly being named things like Gadget, Tiny, Pete’s Shirt, and Pony Boy) singing a song about shark attacks.

Keep the quirk coming, Pete.

*I kid Mr. Bunny Ears, your hygiene appears to MUCH better than Boogers. However, my husband may have to sue you for stealing his trademark facial hair pattern!

As a kid, I had a 45 record (back in the old days, kiddies, music came on REALLY BIG CDs made of stone and you had to put them on a spinny thing and put a live bird’s beak into the grooves to make the music come out) of Halloween stories and songs for kids. One of the stories on that 45 really freaked me out. Since it is a “love” story of sorts, it seems appropriate for V-Day. Let me share my version of it, as I remember it, with you…

Once upon a time, a man was searching for a wife- without much success. He was a rich man, but very particular and controlling. He interviewed many potential candidates, but each one was too thin, or too portly, or too stupid, or too clever, or too blond, or too brunette.

One day, a woman came by his mansion selling flowers. In her simple blue dress and black ribbon tied at her neck, she was by far the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with long jet black hair, skin like porcelain, ruby red lips, and eyes like coal. She proved in conversation to be demure and intelligent, but not overly opinionated or contrary. She was in every way the perfect woman for him. After a brief courtship, they married, and she came to live in his vast estate on the hill.

As time went by, the couple seemed happy, and he lavished her with gifts of jewelry and imported dresses from far away lands. She cherished each ensemble, wearing it proudly, yet never removing the ribbon from around her neck- even while sleeping. This began to nag at the husband. When he asked her about the ribbon, she dismissed him, saying that it covered a scar she acquired in childhood. He asked to see it, but she refused, saying it embarrassed her to display this particular imperfection. He became angry. Surely, as her husband, he had every right to see her as she was. This minor blemish could not diminish his love for her, could it? She gently refused again and walked off to wander the gardens in her own graceful way.

As the weeks progressed, the husband found himself growing more and more agitated at the thought of the ribbon. The sight of it nagged at his eyes, like a beacon of reproach. How dare she deny him? After all he had given her! In all other things she was dutiful and obedient, but this, THIS was unacceptable. His selfish mind hatched a plan to strip her of this conceit and prove to her once and for all that she was his and his alone, not the subject of that oppressive slice of silk at her throat. He waited until she she was asleep in bed, and crept toward her, scissors grasped greedily in his hand. he carefully slid the cold, chrome device between the cold, snowy flesh of her throat and the ribbon, and with one snip it parted and fell away.

And with it came her head.

The head rolled onto the floor eyes open and accusing. It let out one mournful scream, “WHY!!!??” before the light in it’s coal black eyes extinguished and died.

Why is this song here? Personal trauma. As a kid, I somehow misheard these lyrics as being “My Body”. The only reason I could see a person’s body would be lying all over the place would be if it was a DEAD body. “Bring back my body to me” sounded like the wail of a non-corporeal wraith, trapped between worlds and yearning for a return to its physical self. I seriously thought this was what the song was about, until I was in my tweens and someone overheard me singing it. As if puberty wasn’t embarrassing enough.

So, Pete the Camp and Experiential Education Enthusiast, what does your shirt think of all this?

Bopping field mice on the head? Bunny Foo Foo is a JERK! And what the heck is a goon? For some reason, I always pictured a goon as some sort of malevolent goblin. How is that going to improve the situation? Gee, thanks, Good Fairy, for unleashing a monstrous rabbit-demon hybrid with head crushing proclivities on the world!

Sing us out, Pete the Camp and Experiential Education Enthusiast (and his shirt)!