Failed Hat Songs: Marked Down!

NOTE: This crap I wrote last night as a vehicle to avoid real-world issues. What pisseth me off is the one poem I 'lost', upon lying down, perchance to dream, pretending to search for a more-perfect last line, and then forgetting the entire poem. God help me. Anyone else suffer from the same short-term memory loss?

 One-dimensional Man's Hat

My Hat's got just one corner
It's nothing but a point
But at least I've never torn her
Or ripped apart a joint

'You're Cheating, Hat'

My Hat it has two corners
It's great for wait-in-queues
I sneak in, facing sideways
Yes that's the trick I use

Ecumenical Hat

My hat it has three corners
for Father, Son, and Ghost
Plus fold-out flaps for foreigners
You can wear it coast-to-coast

Bobby Bland Hat (Blue only)

My hat, it has four corners
My wife says I'm a square
Not like I didn't warn her
I'm more than what I wear
 
Brass Hat

My hat it has five corners
I work 'outside D.C.'
In an oddly shap-ed building
That kinda looks like me

Free-agent Hat

My hat, it has six corners
Six faces and six seams
And on each one a logo
I play for all their teams

Dead Man's Hat

"Your hat has seven corners!
We cannot fold your hat."
'A problem for you, mourners'
Cause I'm too dead for that.

Budget-priced Hat
My hat, it has eight corners
An octal piece of work
It's a knock-off Fibonacci,®
but cheap; what, I'm a jerk?

Pitcher's Hat (not pictured)

My hat it has nine corners
But non-the-less, it fits
There's one for every inning
No runs, no walks, no hits

Sacks Hat

My wife, she has no corners
No corners has my wife(!)
I sold the rights to Warners®
True story of my life.

Misogynist Hat

Yeah, you can leave your hat on
Just pull it down over yo face-
that I can't believe I sat on.
What am I doing in this place?

Little Boy's Hat

'The King, he's got no hat on.
What's up. You-uns guys is blind?'
For this, he sold his kingdom?
He must have lost his mind.'

Lazarus the Hat

This hat's been through three coroners
Each one pronounced it 'dead'.
So we called the under-taker
Who placed it back on my head

Mad Hatter Hat

My corn it has three hat-dogs
It means just what I said
What, 'I know what I'm saying?'
I'm tired and going to bed

Farmer Hat

My hat it holds three corn ears
Three corn ears holds my hat
And held it not three corn ears
It's probably somebody else's

And as customary, additions welcome...

Wu: Oh, not to worry, they'll play. Minimum age here is 13, remember; mental or chronological...

Anything 4 a Gobi-Buck

     Just noticed a new store in our little Mall; selling haute-couture women's apparel and brewer's supplies(!). Hmm, rich drunk women; clothes half off?
Anyway, the giant red plastic letters above the door scream it out:
"UR 1-STOP SHOP 4 POSH TOPS & HOPS-POTS"
 I can hear the owner on the phone:
"I'd like to order 6 'O's, 6 'P's, 6 'S's,  3 'T's and 3 'H's. I get a volume discount, right?"
"Only if you order an 'A' and sell POTASH in the back."

   But that's not why we're here. We need to talk about 'GOBI'.
Ever since I mentioned the word in a letter to a guy on  G-mail, my main-page's been dripping Gobi-ads like you wouldn't believe. And wisely. Don't believe 'em.
I mean, 'G'? 'How can you trust a letter,  can't even trust its own sound?', I SUGGEST. See? two of 'em, snuggled in there together, one a graph, the other a giraffe. Anyway, 'C' ain't much of a SUCCESS story either, so I'll just live with it. But still, these ads:
1) An group of emigrees from New Mexico calling itself 'www.hopi_east.org has apparently built a town in one of the Gobi deserts. The called it 'Adobe'. Out of curiousity I clicked the link. Well, all that's left is the background music and an 'Under renovation' notice. Turns out they're being sued, both by that cruddy 'Acrobat-what-can't-even-scroll-gud' software firm, and by the U.S. Army(!). For their theme song:
"Be.. all that you can be
In Adobe, in the Go...bi."
Ok, they shoulda changed the tune at least. maybe to 'My Sweet Lord'
2) Speaking of tunes, I am guilty of down-loading the 'Hymn of the Mongols',  out of dead-feline curiousity. Paid .99c, and it's worth at least half that.. wait, 1/3, that's a rounder number:
We shan't desert thee, desert.
Neither gold, nor just dessert
Can break our proud allegiance
To  'Mother, Yak, and Yurt'
It says 'Outer Mongolian Nat'l Anthem, usually just hummed'. Only one verse, 1:04, and goats bleating in the background. Catchy tune though, if you're into dirges.
Sooo... I 'pass'-ed on the following:
3) 'Go 'Bi' in the Gobi! It's where to go to come out'
Apparently there's something about the wide open spaces and lack of opposite-sex partners which maketh the place ideal for.. well, getting in touch with your inner mongolian. mongoloid?  And if that weren't enough,  wait, there's more not to click on:
4) 'Tri-sexual protected community seeks discrete members. Some initiation required. Contact them at (a phone-booth in San Francisco somewhere.) Damn, now I got 'A Man, A Woman and a Yak' running through my head every time I get stuck in an elevator. And I thought 'Theme from My Little Margie' was bad enough.
5) Here's one I don't mind: 'Go-buy-dessert at Sally's 'Go-bi Desert'." Sweet girl, she sure picked an off-the-path location for a restaurant. Still, $299 for a dinosaur-egg quiche.. she's probably doing ok.
6) I'll pass on the DVD boxed-set of 'The Wacky World of Gobie Dillis' re-runs from the 50's. Unscrupulous robot! 'Did you mean to search for 'Dobie Gillis'?

I don't know how to get rid of this pox. Maybe mention 'Penis', Rolex, and Oxytoxin in a mass-mailing?
Mongol-aire ™  flies to Ulan Bator from JFK with a stop in Gander. Once a week, an Aerobus 320 full of probably Californian ad-clickers. I pity 'em. 'The Gander Gender-Bender  Getaway blunder', I'd call it. That's three undependable 'G's, not counting 4 more from the drunken pilot they have to help into his seat while you eat peanuts with the 'feigele' in 23B. Epic Pass. Hell, I can walk to the Sahara from here. Who needs it?

Wu: You forgot one:
Me: I did?
Wu: Yeah, the on-line course.
Me: Aha, right you are: "Learn-2-speak Gobi in ten minutes or your money back."
Wu: But it was free...
Me: Ha, and worth every penny, clever little devils.
Wu: Whadya learn?
Me: Two phrases. All yer supposed to need.
Wu: Nu?
Me: Ok. 'Vertigo-bi' means "I'm dizzy, where should I go?"
Wu: Makes sense.   And...
Me: Um, 'Indigo-bi', well that means..
Wu: Means "Stay where you are, sucka. There ain't no way out!"
Me: What, you took the course too?

Currently trying to get over Reading:

'The Impotence of Being Frank' by Felix 'Frank' Furtner,  Halfcourt Press Selma ALA. 324 Pages (2008)
    Why anyone would read this limp noodle of a 'booklet'  is quite beyond me. First released as 'Diary of A Frank' then pulled off the shelves and retitled, at the publisher's expense, after the uproar from the ADL, it describes 27 dreary years in the' life of a nebbish as a young lamech'... something like that. Our hero Frank was born in 1980 in Hopewell, Pennsylvania to an unsuspecting professional couple of some small deserved fame. I'd have to say that by the second chapter their well of hope had run dry. But that is water over or under the dam. In fact, the book, written exclusively in the 1st dyfunctional-person hardly wastes a second on the parents' point of view in all this.

'-An autobiography' the book says on the flyleaf, failing to mention that the 'auto' bio-ed here ran out of gas before he could walk. There is a small glint of redeeming literary value about midway through, when Frankie decides to spill all to a well-meaning social worker he meets at the town's little playground, where he spends much of his time waiting for his life to start in earnest.

'I want to, I need to...to be totally frank with you.' he tells her on page 137. By page 140 she's been clearing her throat and looking at her watch for hours, one would assume, to not much avail, and she mysteriously disappears by page 151. Suicide, most likely.
    Portnoy's Complaint  this is not. It's all noise, and of close-to-absolute-zero import. And by the bitter end (of the book, not, sadly, of Frank, who leaves the door hanging open for a sequel on the last thank-goodness! page), the hapless reader is counting on Frank to at least live up to the title; to be in fact, 'impotent', and untreatably so.
     So why did I read it at all? , you may be asking. Well, truth is, I didn't. The book doesn't even exist.(!) I made it all up just to feel.. um.. superior, if only superior to an imaginary rabbit. 'Ugh, Frankie, what a yutz.. There but for Fate go I'.

See, now I feel all better. -jsolberg/ staff writer-Tel Aviv Review of Phantom Books

And therewith: Shabbat Shalom!   (What we juden laughingly call 'a pleasant weekend' to ya'all.

Bare with me, Ursala

"The Bear went over the Mountain.." Well, at least his nose went around the can-edge, in this picture, but that's the least of my worries.

We obviously have a typo hear here; that happens a lot with imports. I try to help the manufacturers out by tactfully calling it to their attention. Sometimes they jus don wanna lissen:

Dear 'BEAR BEER' -sic-:

Greetings. Not a bad brew. I liked it. But not enough to name it twice.
 The facts are CLEAR, DEAR; do not FEAR, get into GEAR, or jump in a LEAR, whatever's NEAR, get off your REAR, don't shed a TEAR, or grow WEARY; We can work this out, in less than a YEAR. Meanwhile, I think I'll drink another BEAR. Jsolberg

See how sweet I am. All hints. Don't back anyone into a corner. I expected a thank-you note. Instead I get:

DEER Butthead.

How DARE you be UNFAIR to our BEAR. Your letter almost made him TEAR out his HAIR. Now he's hiding in his LAIR, comes out only RARELY, and only to PARE a PAIR of PEARS. Thanks alot, NE'ER-do well. BearBeerLtd.

Ok, they do have a point. So I sent 'em a poem:
A tear is just a tear
It rhymes with here or there
On which? You never can rely.
So stitch, or cry, and drink a bear
While time goes by....

Hope the beer likes it.

Wu: 'Fail'!
Me: Ok, like, I wasn't expecting 'em to recall 300,000 cans from all over the world, I just..
Wu: No, the whole concept's flawed. Your letter would seem to prove that 'BEAR' is a reasonable re-spelling of BEER, yet you fault them for, I don't know, double-naming the stuff? I'm mixed up.
Me: Yeah so am I. That's why God invented bear.. I mean  beer. I'm just consistently and annoyingly annoyed at english spelling's inconsistency, is all
Wu: Have you stopped sucking your thumb, child? Yes or No
Me: Objection! Counsel is witnessing the badger... whatever...
Wu: Sorry. And FYI, I quit and I've never been happier. Except now my back's all bent out of shape....
Me: You'll live. A couple months of hibernation and you'll be all better.

ADD: And here is a truly Bare Bear, courtesy of the links in the first comments and the Leipzig Zoo. God, I hope it's not all my fault. I hadn't heard about it till an hour ago, honest.

"PPL's PP PKS PT PPL 2 R8 PPL BULL"

     Ah, the new Pope's now on Twitter. Pope Bobby I. Somehow I knew the Catholics would eventually get it. Mebbe late... and wrong, but still 'They gotz it.'
Bobby@ Holy See! sends me, along with billions of actual believers, updates on his breakfast fare, etc. I hunger and thirst after righteousness. Almost ate my phone when I got the MSG in the title. Took most of my lunch-hour to figure it out. But for those of you with limited skills, here's the expansion:

"PeoPLe's  PoPe  PicKS  PeT  PuPiL to Rate  PaPal Bull."
Yeah, he's the 'people's pope', down-to-earth, wears a turtle-neck, caught drinking off-label schnopps once, listens to Sheryl Crow. Crowe, whatever...I dug up the details. It's more than 138 characters, but stick with me.
     See, part of His modern job is still to pour over the Holy Writs. along with an eminent team of Ritz-Crackers, I should add. For those of us too poor in spirit to pore over 'em ourselves. And so He foundeth this passage in e-Kleese-e-Ass-Tease: Chapter 3 Verse 16: which sayeth '..and Hezbaziah did goeth down (my emphasis) from Goshen to a place called Umlah-la, which is known to the Tribolites as Shittite, and there he dwelleth with his wives and his oxen and their asses... blah blah."
Problem is, for the modern See, that is, is that a recent excavation, funded by none other than Roche, Ltd, a holy-owned subsidiary of the Vatican, unearthearthed ruins almost certainly those of Umlahla, 17 kilometers due 'North' of Goshen. And...um.. the inerrant writers of the gospel, like, when they say 'down' they mean 'down'. Only question for us mortal pigeons is 'how far down?'

So, long story short, well, I'll let you read The Papal Bull yourselves in the vernacular:

El Mundus Inversus est- 2009 'Beta'

Mortals have for centuries portrayed the geographical features of the Earth with the Arctic regions towards the top of the paper, papyrus, bit-map, whatevah. To the point where it is almost inconceivable to conceive of it any other way. Australians walk around on their ceilings or hang from the floor without giving it a second thought. One would think that there must be a good reason for this convention, but one would be wrong. Why is the visible Universe filled with matter and only miniscule traces of anti-matter? Why are our bodies made from right-handed molecules? Why do we even call them right-handed might be a better question. or the Ozmo Question: "Please explain to the nice friendly space alien living comfortably at a great distance: 'Which side is 'right' and which is left'", assuming the two of you have no visible object in common. Until the Fall of Parity in '56, left-right symmetry was an un-challenged axiom of physics. Then Lee&Yang et al proved that super-cooled Cobalt isotopes undergoing beta-decay had a preference for ejected neutron spin-direction. Thus the weak force (so far) violates parity. It would be beyond the scope of this Bull to go any deeper; in fact, forget all that sciency hobbita-heebita. My revolution here is solidly sociological, which we all know to be the most rigorous of the hard sciences, according to lots of polls.
Ok, here's what I'm proposing: The Holy Bible, (and incidentally way back there in the Jewish megilla, I think they call it), turns out to have guys going 'down' northward. It's documented on jsolberg's Xanga, among other less-reliable sources. Take a second to reflect on that, my sheep. North is down. Down is North. What part of that don't you get? I am, as of this date in the Year of Our Lord who died on the cross for your sins let's not forget, asking that maps of the world, countries, provinces, no-man's lands, etc. be simply 'rotate-by 180'-ed. That's all. North Dakota is still North Dakota, god-dammit, you-uns guys are simply 'under' South Dakota. Big Deal. In fact, I'm struggling to think of any real hardship that this long-overdue correction will cause. PPL will get used to it. Plus, I may be just 'Bobby-the-friendly-Pope' to some of you apostates but I'm still fucking infallible. Jezuz, give me some bloody respect; I didn't get to where I'm at by licking paper plates. Yours Truly: Bobby I, Popus del Mundus.

Ok, that's a hasty translation from the Latin. Let's move on... Bobby's heart-throb from seminary, Kyle Anthony McClellan, was chosen by the Popeness for his net-savvy, initiative, and tender buttocks. Kyle willingly placed the full text on Ewe-Tube, the Vatican video channel, and so far the 'comments' pages are dutifully supportive. A quick tally of 'Thumbs-up for da Bull' versus Thumbs-down: Bullshit' shows a willingness among page-hitters to 'Go South for Bobbie'. Polls close on Christmas eve, 2009