The Virgin Prince's War Journal
The grim and gritty side of things. If everyone had a soundtrack to their lives, mine would be the best.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Festivus Cheer
To all you fans of leavened bread,
Ah, another glorious Sunday, and nothing quite ends the evening as beautifully as William Shatner performing yet another wonderful musical number. For a change I’m excited about this upcoming Festivus, knowing that not only is a new Shatner album available on the market, but the great almighty (Johnny Cash) has further smiled down upon us, and Shatner’s classic album, The Transformed Man, has been re-released! To think I used to tirelessly search Ebay for long-out of print copies, never able to secure one, due to my inability to spend $50 bucks. I may now purchase one new for less than $10! Huzzah!
Add in the fact that I’m still without a copy of Bill Clinton’s and Mikhail Gorbachev’s reading of Peter and the Wolf, and I’m similarly lacking Vic Mizzy’s whimsy-packed soundtrack to the Don Knotts classic The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (the soundtrack for which he first developed the trademark “Don Knotts Sound”), and there’s a lot of potential for holiday gold in my stocking this year. Or I could always receive a copy of The Federalist Papers with which to snuggle up, or a copy of Bill Clinton’s My Life, with which I could scare my Republican friends during a midnight reading, next Halloween. Oh there’s so many wonderful things still left out there, The Revenge of the Nerds soundtrack, or Tim Curry’s many albums, or even the crazy-space-sounds of the early-80’s soundtrack to Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, all of which are still available with a little help from the almighty dollar.
And by almighty dollar, I’m referring to the currency up in Canada. Here in the ‘States, we couldn’t trade our paper money for toilet paper, now that Bush has devalued the heck out of it, as he works his way up to a Trillion-dollar deficit. I know what I want for Christmas! How about a Presidential impeachment?
It’s been far, far too long since I’ve seen Don Knotts or Jonathan Winters in anything. Well, I did see Jonathan Winters in a commercial for Las Vegas recently, but that’s just completely below his caliber. It’d be like casting Don Knotts for a commercial for the past year’s biggest pop hits, featuring Britney Spears! Oh wait. They did that a few years back.
It was almost as insulting as the time Britney Spears dressed up in Elvis’s white sequined jumpsuit.
On the subject of Elvis, my sideburns are finally growing back in! Thank goodness. I’d felt naked without the boys, ever since I shaved them off to further increase my chances of finding employment. Not worth it. Better to have a good looking set of sideburns than a commitment to labor.
I wish I could find myself another pair of “Captain Kirk boots” that fit. Those pointy-toed, gleaming black beauties fit like a glove, and every time I wore them I felt the confidence of a young Shatner, and was ready to tear my shirt in unarmed combat with any lizard-creature that would face me. Too bad my feet grew. So I picked up a couple more pairs of mystical, flying Vice-shoes today instead.
I miss going out and tearing up the town. I’ve been spending far too much time here in my Fortress of Fortitude, what with the reading, writing, cooking, and running. The cats have accepted me into their tribe. Time to get out.
I’ll have to round up the other members of the Genius Society, they’ve all been far too antisocial, and they too have spent far too much time in their respective caves. I miss the cool night air on my face as I zip through the city streets, and the sighs of female passersby as I jump from roof to roof. I miss being ejected from public places and the concerned looks that my chums and I seem to elicit from the civilians around us.
Furthermore, poor Bobo needs to get out and stretch his legs. It’s been months since he’s sullied a billboard with something tossed from his special stash, and I’ve a feeling there’s billboard out there for a Ben Affleck flick, somewhere, a large print ad with the Virgin Chimp’s name on it. Does Jennifer Lopez still get work?
Why is Sarah Jessica Parker’s face on everything all of the sudden? Sex In the City sucked. It should be a telling statement that her career got such a boost from the cancellation of the show, as opposed to the attention she got while it was still on the air. Not that I particularly mind her, or even the show for that matter, just that I tend to get irritated by anything so overexposed. This includes Paris Hilton, without question, and may (unfortunately) soon include Lindsay Lohan as well, despite her two heaving mounds of talent, namely, acting and musical ability.
I know I must be getting old when I get a little grossed out by the fact that the country is making such a sex object out of one barely 18.
Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
P.S. Not Shatner, never Shatner. They could put his face on my electric toothbrush and I’d still never get sick of him.
Ah, another glorious Sunday, and nothing quite ends the evening as beautifully as William Shatner performing yet another wonderful musical number. For a change I’m excited about this upcoming Festivus, knowing that not only is a new Shatner album available on the market, but the great almighty (Johnny Cash) has further smiled down upon us, and Shatner’s classic album, The Transformed Man, has been re-released! To think I used to tirelessly search Ebay for long-out of print copies, never able to secure one, due to my inability to spend $50 bucks. I may now purchase one new for less than $10! Huzzah!
Add in the fact that I’m still without a copy of Bill Clinton’s and Mikhail Gorbachev’s reading of Peter and the Wolf, and I’m similarly lacking Vic Mizzy’s whimsy-packed soundtrack to the Don Knotts classic The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (the soundtrack for which he first developed the trademark “Don Knotts Sound”), and there’s a lot of potential for holiday gold in my stocking this year. Or I could always receive a copy of The Federalist Papers with which to snuggle up, or a copy of Bill Clinton’s My Life, with which I could scare my Republican friends during a midnight reading, next Halloween. Oh there’s so many wonderful things still left out there, The Revenge of the Nerds soundtrack, or Tim Curry’s many albums, or even the crazy-space-sounds of the early-80’s soundtrack to Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, all of which are still available with a little help from the almighty dollar.
And by almighty dollar, I’m referring to the currency up in Canada. Here in the ‘States, we couldn’t trade our paper money for toilet paper, now that Bush has devalued the heck out of it, as he works his way up to a Trillion-dollar deficit. I know what I want for Christmas! How about a Presidential impeachment?
It’s been far, far too long since I’ve seen Don Knotts or Jonathan Winters in anything. Well, I did see Jonathan Winters in a commercial for Las Vegas recently, but that’s just completely below his caliber. It’d be like casting Don Knotts for a commercial for the past year’s biggest pop hits, featuring Britney Spears! Oh wait. They did that a few years back.
It was almost as insulting as the time Britney Spears dressed up in Elvis’s white sequined jumpsuit.
On the subject of Elvis, my sideburns are finally growing back in! Thank goodness. I’d felt naked without the boys, ever since I shaved them off to further increase my chances of finding employment. Not worth it. Better to have a good looking set of sideburns than a commitment to labor.
I wish I could find myself another pair of “Captain Kirk boots” that fit. Those pointy-toed, gleaming black beauties fit like a glove, and every time I wore them I felt the confidence of a young Shatner, and was ready to tear my shirt in unarmed combat with any lizard-creature that would face me. Too bad my feet grew. So I picked up a couple more pairs of mystical, flying Vice-shoes today instead.
I miss going out and tearing up the town. I’ve been spending far too much time here in my Fortress of Fortitude, what with the reading, writing, cooking, and running. The cats have accepted me into their tribe. Time to get out.
I’ll have to round up the other members of the Genius Society, they’ve all been far too antisocial, and they too have spent far too much time in their respective caves. I miss the cool night air on my face as I zip through the city streets, and the sighs of female passersby as I jump from roof to roof. I miss being ejected from public places and the concerned looks that my chums and I seem to elicit from the civilians around us.
Furthermore, poor Bobo needs to get out and stretch his legs. It’s been months since he’s sullied a billboard with something tossed from his special stash, and I’ve a feeling there’s billboard out there for a Ben Affleck flick, somewhere, a large print ad with the Virgin Chimp’s name on it. Does Jennifer Lopez still get work?
Why is Sarah Jessica Parker’s face on everything all of the sudden? Sex In the City sucked. It should be a telling statement that her career got such a boost from the cancellation of the show, as opposed to the attention she got while it was still on the air. Not that I particularly mind her, or even the show for that matter, just that I tend to get irritated by anything so overexposed. This includes Paris Hilton, without question, and may (unfortunately) soon include Lindsay Lohan as well, despite her two heaving mounds of talent, namely, acting and musical ability.
I know I must be getting old when I get a little grossed out by the fact that the country is making such a sex object out of one barely 18.
The Virgin Prince
P.S. Not Shatner, never Shatner. They could put his face on my electric toothbrush and I’d still never get sick of him.
