the sloppy copy

I’ve often commented that, when it finally comes time to go through my dozens of boxes in “The Unit” it’ll be like Christmas. See, I figured it’d be a fun little 45-second diversion as I unpacked – nothing too breathtaking, maybe like opening up a wrapped plastic candy cane full of M&Ms: Oooh I wonder what it could possibly be?

I mean, seeing things that I haven’t seen in a long while can be slightly nifty (like hearing songs I haven’t heard in years – BAM! Look at me making connections!), but how cool could it actually be? Opening a cardboard box and finding the set of silverware you’ve owned for five years just doesn’t sound like a particularly magical discovery. Right?

Oh, so wrong. So completely and totally wrong.

Today I ventured out to The Unit to pull out my old television set so that I could donate it to a local thrift store to get a nice tax deduction out of the goodness of my heart. While rummaging around piles of really really dusty boxes (seriously! Where does this dust come from? No, don’t answer that, because it will probably make me ill – have you ever seen a magnified picture of a dust mite? AAAAHHHHH!), I came across one that was labelled “food.”

Uh-oh.

I took the box back to the house, fully intending to open it outdoors, next to a trash can. Once home, I placed it in the driveway, Hefty bag at the ready. I slowly peeled away the tape and gingerly peered inside, only to discover that it was a box full of…

…awesome.

NO, FOR REAL, that is exactly how I described it to poor Juanita as I almost-literally dragged her out of the house to see: “A box full of awesome?” she asked. “Ssssh…don’t ask questions. Just see!” I answered.

It was maybe a 15- to 20-lb box* that included the following treasures:
One unopened can of Quaker Instant Oats!
Two unopened boxes of still-chewy raisins!!
Boxes of instant pistachio pudding and chocolate pudding!!!
One unopened box of MINI FRUIT ROLL UPS!!!!

All this, and MORE. Still-usable herbs and spices that had been carefully sealed away (I don’t remember putting this much forethought into my packing!), packages of instant rice, still-good Nutri-Grain bars… it was nothing short of amazing.

To say that I am now completely and totally AMPED to dig into the rest of the boxes is the Understatement Of The Universe. I mean, if I can wring at least one hour of uninterrupted elation out of opening a box of oatmeal, I’ll probably damn-near soil myself when I get to boxes labelled “purses” or “miscellaneous.”

Aiiieeeeee!

*Or not. I cannot estimate any sort of useful unit of measure to save my life.

Some notes:
* I love the brass.
* This song was written by Curtis Mayfield (one of my faves, mmm) and includes the phrase “Let your backbone slip” – this line is also in Mayfield’s “Move On Up,” where I always thought it sounded a little crazy. But I guess that references an actual-sorta dance move-thing.
* Oh, and “the monkey” is a dance. For real.
* There are not nearly enough such “dances” nowadays. There are no Twists or Mashed Potatoes or whatnots anymore. I mean, like maaaaaybe the Cupid Shuffle comes close. But not really.

“Monkey Time” / Major Lance (1973)

I wonder, if people tried to make music like this today, what it would sound like?
Also, skip the video.

“Come Softly To Me” / The Fleetwoods (1959)

Like most (many? all? some?) sibling pairs, Brother and I live in a weird little bubble of shared memories and inside jokes. We grew up on the local “oldies” station, back when “oldies” meant hits from the 1950s and 1960s, with the occasional early 70s classic thrown in for excellently-good measure, and a lot – I mean a lot – of this joint repetoire of pop culture references revolves around these, the songs of our childhood.

As such, we often (quite randomly) text each other the names of what we consider “lost oldies”: songs that seldom get airplay anymore but which conjure strong, very specific, memories. The title/artist is sometimes followed by the phrase “You’ll shit” which is a sort of vernacular meaning “the song title or artist might sound unfamiliar to you, but this is a song we often heard years ago and I was quite excited when I heard it again recently; I’m sure you’ll become quite excited as well.”*

The song doesn’t necessarily have to be from the 50s or 60s – he’s sent me some really good, shit-worthy songs from the 90s lately – but for this week I’m concentrating on “lost oldies” that I’ve very recently stumbled back upon, courtesy of the 50s and 60s satellite radio stations that my Dad likes to listen to in the car.

Maybe none of these will ring a bell for any of you, but I doubt it. Somewhere in the deep recesses of your brain, you’ve probably absorbed some of this music – perhaps passively or second-handedly – but I’m positive it’s there, lurking in one of those cute little brain folds, just waiting to be brought to the surface, Leonard-Lowe-style.

Please – enjoy.

*Er, or something like that.

How cool – I mean, downright awesome – would it have been to see these guys live, say about 1979-1980? More evidence to support my hypothesis that some of the Best Music Ever Made was created before I was born (and my secondary hypothesis, that all good things come from Australia)

Wow.

“You Shook Me All Night Long” / AC/DC (1980)

Can’t decide if this one makes my Worst Karaoke Songs list or my Best Karaoke Songs list.
But this song is weird. Like in the last verse, when her guy Dooley is <<<SPOILER ALERT>>> on his deathbed, making out his Last Will & Testament? She sure is still pretty damn upbeat about the whole thing, ya know?

“Pink Shoe Laces” / Dodie Stevens (1959)

After watching a contestant win a Lexus on Wheel of Fortune:
Ma: I hope he lives in a nice neighborhood, otherwise that car is gonna get stolen.

*pause*

Ma: And the taxes are going to be ridiculous.

While browsing televisions.
Ma: What size do you want?

J: I dunno. 63 inches.

Ma: Let’s try this again: what size are you going to buy?

J: Something not too big, but not too small.

Ma: Okaaaaaay. How about 26 inches? Is that a good size?

J: I think I want a rear-projection system, actually.

Ma: Arrgh.

J: Or, oooooooh! A Parlor Wall! Like the thing Ray Bradbury wrote about in Fahrenheit 451. Where do I get one of those?

Ma: Juliiiie…..

J: Where does Wehrenberg get their screens?

Ma: *sputtering in frustration* Why don’t you just get your own little…. TV man!

*long silence*

J: … what?

Ma: *in one breath* I- don’t-know-since-when-do-you-listen-to-what-I-say?!

J: Oh! Oh! Can he reenact my favorite programs in my living room?! “Hey, do some more of ‘The Office,’ but play Stanley more like a gay thug this time!”

Oh hey, remember this one?

“Cannonball” / The Breeders (1993)

Tangent: I obsess over names and the naming of people and things. Every stuffed animal I ever owned has had a name. My sock monkey slippers each have a name.* When I meet someone, I want to know their name and how it’s spelled so I can seal it into my memory. And when I write a story, I must name the characters. I agonize over it, and endure a very meticulous process until the perfect name is reached.

Sometimes, though, I’ll come across a name that I like so much that I have to create a character to fill it in, and one of those names… is Del. It’s a super name, deserving of a super characterization.

“Hats off to Larry” / Del Shannon (1961)

*Righty is Morris, Lefty is Mo – short for Maurice, but don’t call him that because it sounds “too French.”

The first time I heard this song, I immediately wanted to hear more.

“Missed the Boat” / Modest Mouse (2007)

p.s. This version censors my favorite line.
p.p.s. These guys are from Issaquah, Washington, which is currently in my top 5 Best Names of Cities That Are Not in Oklahoma (because they’re all cool in Oklahoma: see Tahlequah, Skiatook, Broken Arrow, etc;).