Not even a week after I deposit a steaming load of fulsome praise on the elegant and talented Twisty Faster, Twisty reveals to the world that she has suffered a debilitating and possibly incurable psychosocial injury as a result of excessive news-related fury. You could hear the gasp as the news spread across the blogosphere. Who will take up the banner and continue her vital patriarchy-blaming work? As the doctors debate how best to restore Twisty’s ravaged infrastructure, we her readers must find ways to help her in her 45 minutes of need.
As none of my readers know, I am privileged to serve on the Board of Directors of the Red Crux, the nation’s premier Hegelian cultural-criticism-related charity and autonomous artists’ collective. At an emergency meeting last night I volunteered to chair the relief effort to aid Twisty. Or so I am told. I had stepped out of the room briefly to explain to a few nonautonomous artists that we had declined their application for membership.
I thus am forced to announce Blame Aid 2005, a virtual concert that consists of the song below. All proceeds from this event will go to the Cooperativa de Las Muchachas Para Culpar el Patriarcado (Young Girls’ Patriarchy-Blaming Cooperative) in Jujuy, Argentina.
The Corrido of Twisty Faster’s Brain
All the people who despise the Presidente
Love the Austin gal they know as Twisty Faster
She’s the favorite of the blogging cognoscent-ay
And she bends her knee to neither god nor master.
She’s the reigning queen of patriarchy blaming
And her prose is bright and elegantly snarky
She excels at all kick-assing and take-name-ing
And exhorts us all to blame the patriarchy.
(chorus)
Oh the sun it shines like oil upon the mole
And the dogs they beg and whine, they’re getting barky
And the sexist trolls are thicker than pozole
Everybody dance, and blame the patriarchy!
When the body politic’s especially leprous
That is when our spinster aunt leaps into action
With the portion of her brain that is obstrep’rous
She will blame the patriarchs ‘til they’re in traction.
But one morning when the bullshit overloaded
Oh, it nearly spelled the end of our dear Twisty
That was when that portion of her brain exploded
And they heard the blast way down in Corpus Christi.
(chorus)
Oh the sun it shines like oil upon the mole
And the dogs they beg and whine, they’re getting barky
And the sexist trolls are thicker than pozole
Everybody dance, and blame the patriarchy!
In a tiny room, the benches wrapped in paper
Twisty Faster she awaits her doctor’s sentence
While the other spinster aunts outside they caper
And the nations’ patriarchs escape repentance.
Till the men stop their reflexive woman-shaming
And the patriarchy gets all non-existy
We will need to keep on patriarchy blaming
Everybody raise a glass to our dear Twisty!
(chorus)
Oh the sun it shines like oil upon the mole
And the dogs they beg and whine, they’re getting barky
And the feminists are hotter than pozole
Everybody dance, and blame the patriarchy!
You know, Chris, sometimes I want to know what you’ve been smoking because I want some too.
Sometimes I want to know what you’ve been smoking so I can stay far, far away from it. This is one of those times.
But I’ve gotta give you credit, you found a rhyme for ‘patriarchy’; not an easy thing to do. Though I’m not sure that makes up for “oil upon the mole”
Why, that’s brilliant! Every gal should have her own Corrido, and none is more deserving than Twisty. I especially like the way you rhymed “barky” with “patriarchy”, and “non-existy” with “Twisty”.
Clarification at the risk of teaching Grandma Stephanie how to suck eggs: that’s “mo-lay.”
Chris: Pbbththth! Yes, I know mole rhymes with pozole. I had some lovely pistachio mole at the fancy New Rebozo Cafe on Friday. My local family Mexican place makes a killer pumpkin seed mole. You don’t have to live in the left half of the country to be able to pronounce mole:)
But the thing is, in order to get there, you had to compare the sun to “oil upon the mole.”
But I’m sure Twisty will appreciate your…offering.
You’ve sure got a crush, don’t you, friend?
It’s understandable, though. She’s quite the hottie.
Owww! It hurts when I laugh! Owww!
No, really. OWWW!
Stephanie, I try to keep about a bakers’ dozen crushes going at any one time. I’m like that guy on the Ed Sullivan Show with the spinning plates and the Khachaturian.
Crushes are good. Keep the old endorphins flowing.
Twisty: Laughter is the best medicine. That’s what the large-print Reader’s Digest on the back of the toilet at Grandma’s says, anyway.
Twisty: Life in these United States; humor in uniform.
Drama in Real Life!
It Pays to Increase Your Word Power!
The Ruses of Adversity!
I Am Joe’s Spleen!
(Just ask Joe.)
Judging by that rhyme scheme, you’ve been listening to the Austin Lounge Lizards (maybe just in your head) which would be appropriate.
Actually, Ron, it was Valerio Longoria in my brain. If it was the Lounge Lizards, it would have sounded more like “Big Rio Grande River.”
Wow. If my doggerel and your doggerel were in a duel, with pistols, at noon, under the hot sun, your doggerel would kill my doggerel before my doggerel was even aware he’d arrived on the scene. Hermano, I salute you.
Chris, you’re brilliant, and I would so make out w/ you, too. Hee.
Tost, this is why I give this stuff away for free.
*applauds*
I can’t even take in the enormity of your song/verse… Were you trying to blow my mind? ‘cause you succeeded, dude! Now I’m left like Twisty, limping along with blown cerebral functions. This will undoubtedly affect my blogging. Or some people might say they can’t see any affect at all.