WA2K Radio is now on the air

we like to call it "spring time in the Rockies"

George -- That always brings a smile to my face. Love it.

The ABQ blizzard of 2005
Well, we had the blizzard of 2005 yesterday and today. I have over a foot of snow in my yard.

Yesterday, I left the house at 12:30 to get to class at 1 pm. By the time I left at 3 pm, there was about 2 inches of snow on my car and snowing heavily. The ride home took me over an hour. The snow and wind was so heavy you couldn't see the road lanes. My windshield wipers were barely able clear the snow off and I could only see a few yards of the road ahead. The main roads weren't so bad, but when I turned off on the road leading to my home, the road was very slick and icy. A pickup truck nearly hit me sliding across the road. When I got to my house, I couldn't make it up my driveway. I had to gun the motor and get as close to the garage door as I could. After 4 tries, I finally made it into the garage. I looked at the garage this morning and the snow has melted all over the floor.

The dogs have romped through the back yard snow a couple of times. Then I have to towel them down to dry them when they come back inside.

I just looked outside and don't see any new snow falling. All freeways from ABQ to the Colorado and Texas borders are closed. All ABQ schools are closed.

BBB

Raggedy, thanks for that picture of Roy. He is, indeed, a fine musician.

I cannot believe the odd weather that our entire planet is experiencing, listeners. Of course, the saying in Florida is:

If you don't like the weather here, wait a few minutes and it will change.

Walter reminded me that spring was knocking on his door in Germany, and I always think of the song, Springtime for Hitler, from "The Producers":

I was just a paper hanger
No one more obscurer
Got a phone call from the Reichstag
Told me I was Fuhrer
Germany was blue
What, oh, what to do?
Hitched up my pants
And conquered France
Now Deutschland's smiling through!
But it wasn't always so easy...
It was 1932. Hindenburg was working the Big Room and I...
I was playing the lounge. And then I got my big break.
Somebody burned down the Reichstag. And, would you believe it?
They made me Chancellor. Chancellor!
It ain't no myst'ry
If it's politics or hist'ry
The thing you gotta know is
Ev'rything is show biz
Heil myself
Watch my show
I'm the German Ethel Merman
Dontcha know
We are crossing borders
The new world order is here
Make a great big smile
Ev'ryone sieg heil to me
Wonderful me!
And now it's...
CHORUS:
Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Goose-step's the new step today.

That movie was hilarious. Here the producers thought they had created the perfect loser and could cheat the angels. What poetic justice that the show was a big hit. Mel Brooks was fantastic as a spoof writer. Would that we had more.

Yes, everything does appear to be show biz.

Listeners and staff, does this surprise you?

Luxembourg Tops, Baghdad Bottom

Mon Mar 14, 9:28 AM ET World - Reuters



LONDON (Reuters) - Luxembourg is the world's safest city and Baghdad the most dangerous, while Geneva and Zurich rank top for overall quality of life, according to a survey Monday.



Mercer Human Resource Consulting evaluated 215 locations for crime levels and internal stability, using New York as the base city with a score of 100 points.


Luxembourg was followed by Helsinki, Bern, Geneva and Zurich.


Unsurprisingly Baghdad, which continues to suffer regular attacks from insurgents, was rated bottom behind Ivory Coast's Abidjan.


In the United States, Honolulu, Houston, Lexington, San Francisco and Winston Salem were jointly ranked safest, with Atlanta bottom.


German cities fared well but Rome, Athens and London ranked badly compared to other western European locations because of high levels of petty crime, while Madrid scored poorly because of terrorism, Mercer said.


"The top-ranking cities for personal safety and security are in politically stable countries with good international relations and sustainable economic growth," said Slagin Parakatil, Senior Researcher at Mercer.


"Most of the low-scoring cities are in countries with civil unrest, little law enforcement and high levels of crime."


Mercer's overall quality of life survey, which evaluates 39 criteria such as crime, health, education and transport, placed Geneva and Zurich top, ahead of Vancouver and Vienna.


Honolulu and San Francisco ranked highest in the U.S, while New York was in joint 39th place alongside London.

Soooooo, if you decide to move.

Correction on Ruby Don't Take Your Love to Town.
First Edition, which featured Kenny Rogers originally did the song. Then Walter Brennan did it talking.

Walter Brennan, edgar? The Real McCoys?

Why am I taken back to an odd movie called Swamp Water?

and in thinking about Swamp water, and will-o-the-wisp, I wander back to this beautiful song that came to me when my godson died:


Skylark
Have you anything to say to me
Won't you tell me where my love can be
Is there a meadow in the mist
Where someone's waiting to be kissed

Oh skylark
Have you seen a valley green with spring
Where my heart can go a-journeying
Over the shadows and the rain
To a blossom-covered lane

And in your lonely flight
Haven't you heard the music in the night
Wonderful music
Faint as a will o' the wisp
Crazy as a loon
Sad as a gypsy serenading the moon

Oh skylark
I don't know if you can find these things
But my heart is riding on your wings
So if you see them anywhere
Won't you lead me there
Oh skylark
Won't you lead me there.

Question for the illusive evening:

What, exactly, is the will o' the wisp?
The same as a banshee? How the Irish conjure up our ghosts.

some mirth from Flanders and Swann



The Gas Man Cometh

'Twas on a Monday morning the gas man came to call.
The gas tap wouldn't turn - I wasn't getting gas at all.
He tore out all the skirting boards to try and find the main
And I had to call a carpenter to put them back again.

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

'Twas on a Tuesday morning the carpenter came round.
He hammered and he chiselled and he said:
"Look what I've found: your joists are full of dry rot
But I'll put them all to rights".
Then he nailed right through a cable and out went all the lights!

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

'Twas on a Wednesday morning the electrician came.
He called me Mr. Sanderson, which isn't quite the name.
He couldn't reach the fuse box without standing on the bin
And his foot went through a window so I called the glazier in.

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

'Twas on a Thursday morning the glazier came round
With his blow torch and his putty and his merry glazier's song.
He put another pane in - it took no time at all
But I had to get a painter in to come and paint the wall.

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

'Twas on a Friday morning the painter made a start.
With undercoats and overcoats he painted every part:
Every nook and every cranny - but I found when he was gone
He'd painted over the gas tap and I couldn't turn it on!

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

On Saturday and Sunday they do no work at all;
So 'twas on a Monday morning that the gasman came to call...

********************************************

The Hippopotamus

A bold Hippopotamus was standing one day
On the banks of the cool Shalimar
He gazed at the bottom as it peacefully lay
By the light of the evening star.
Away on a hilltop, sat combing her hair
Was a fair Hippopotami maid;
The Hippopotamus was no ignoramus
And sang her this sweet serenade:

'Mud, Mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow
In glorious mud'

The fair Hippopotama he aimed to entice
From her seat on that hilltop above
As she hadn't got a Ma to give her advice
Came tiptoeing down to her love.
Like thunder the forest re-echoed the sound
of the song that they sang when they met
His inamorata adjusted her garter
And lifted her voice in duet (in Russian)

(in Russian, DS sings, MF translates --> See bottom of page)
'Mud, Mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow
In glorious mud!'

That should improve our cultural relations

The bold Hippopotami began to convene
On the banks of that river so wide
I wonder, now, what am I to say of the scene
That ensued by the Swhalimar side?
They dived all at once, with an ear-splitting splosh
Then rose to the surface again
A regular army
of Hippopotami
All singing this haunting refrain:

'Mud, Mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow
In glorious mud'!

dj, those songs were fabulous. Haven't we all experienced inept fix it folks, listeners?

And the Hippo duo was great. Reminds me of Odgen Nash. Or was that James Thurber?

Another AHA moment. On another thread I asked about Mozart's funeral march. In searching it out, I ran across this scathing review:

As the Queen Mother's cortège trudged its stately way into the heart of Westminster, my ear clammed up like an affronted oyster. Not that maudlin march again, it protested. Can no one compose a better send-off than the dreary third movement of Frederic Miseryguts Chopin's Sonata number two in B-flat minor? The tum-tumte-tum Marche Funèbre is the inexorable accompaniment to public mourning. Every assassinated US president has had it thudded out on his final journey, from William McKinley in September 1901 to John F Kennedy in November 1963. Thomas Alva Edison was so smitten by the solemnity that his factory ground out a wind-band recording of the relentless plod as early as 1906.

There is no knowing exactly when the march became obligatory. At Chopin's own funeral in October 1849, le tout Paris turned out to hear Mozart's Requiem, into which the dear departed's Marche Funèbre was inserted as an introit. The orchestration was by one Napoleon-Henri Réber, of the Conservatoire.

The march caught on with the fashionable classes - unsurprisingly, since it consists of nothing more complicated than a two-chord progression followed by a simple theme. Your average 10-year-old can render it competently on the piano; regimental bands distort the rhythms to keep the soldiery in step.

Its musical merits were debatable from the start. Robert Schumann, who initially acclaimed Chopin with the words "hats off, gentlemen, a genius!", decried the march as "repulsive" and inimical to the rest of the sonata. He advised Chopin to replace it with an Adagio in D-flat major to preserve the work's tonal scheme.

He was wrong - the entire sonata is predicated upon this morbid section - but poor Schumann only got to hear the theme a couple of times before he went stark raving mad. A modern music critic will be exposed to it a hundred times or more before he is fortunate enough to be carted away to its lugubrious tum-tum-te-tum.

The adaptation most performed nowadays is by Sir Edward Elgar, who knocked it off in 1932 for £75.

The answer to the question, What is a will O' the wisp? is the legend of the effects of swamp gas to the imaginative mind.

Well listeners apparently it's time for a little whimsy.


Tree Toad

Tune: Auld Lang Syne

A tree toad loved a fair she toad
That lived up in a tree;
She was a fair three-toed tree toad
But a two-toed toad was he.
The two-toed tree toad tried to win
The she toad's friendly nod;
For the two-toed tree toad loved the ground
That the three-toed tree toad trod.

Now three-toed tree toads have no care
For two-toed tree toad love,
But the two-toed tree toad fain would share
A tree home up above.
In vain the two-toed tree toad tried;
He couldn't please her whim.
In her tree toad bower with veto power,
The she toad vetoed him!

Will-o-the-wisp

Imagination is funny
It makes a cloudy day sunny
It makes a bee think of honey
Just as I think of you

Imagination is crazy
Your whole perspective gets hazy
Starts you asking a daisy
What to do, what to do

Have you ever felt a gentle touch
And then a kiss, and then and then
Find it's only your imagination again

Imagination is silly
You go around willy nilly
For example I go around wanting you
And yet I can't imagine that you want me too


Sweet dreams all!

Alas my love you did me wrong
To cast me out discourteously;
For I have loved you so long
Delighting in your very company.

Now if you intent to show me disdain
Don't you know it all the more enraptures me;
For even so I still remain
Your lover in captivity.


Green Sleeves you're all alone
The leaves have fallen, the men have gone.
Green Sleeves there's no-one home
Not even the Lady Green Sleeves.


I sang my song, I told my lies
To lie between your matchless thighs;
And ain't it fine, ain't it wise
To finally end our exercise.


Then I saw you naked in the early dawn
Oh, I hoped you would be someone new;
I reached for you, but you were gone
So, Lady, I'm going too.


Green Sleeves you're all alone
The leaves have fallen, the men are gone.
Green Sleeves there's no-one home
Not even the Lady Green Sleeves.


Green Sleeves you're all alone
The leaves have fallen, the men have all gone home.
Green Sleeves so easily gone
Not even the Lady Green Sleeves.

Tree toad! Delightful, Bob. Poor Bobby Burns.

And in the spirit of Raggedy's eerie will o' the wisp and great song. (which I love, incidentally), here's Ogden's love song of the Hippo!

The Hippopotamus

Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.

Peace, peace, thou hippopotamus!
We really look all right to us,
As you no doubt delight the eye
Of other hippopotami.

-- Ogden Nash

Just to let our listeners know--them river horses can be dangerous.

Not to worry, folks. I am not about to do The Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock. How about the song, "The Party's Over." Nah, that's no good;

Actually, it's just begun here on WA2K radio.

Back later with a proper goodnight song.

Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes - Perry Como

Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Don't let the moon break your heart
Love blooms at night
In daylight it dies
Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Or keep your heart from me
For some day I'll return
And you know you're the only one I'll ever love

To many nights (to many nights)
To many stars (to many stars)
To many moons could change your mind
(Don't let the moon change your mind)
If I'm gone too long don't forget where you belong
When the stars come out remember you are mine

Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Don't let the moon break your heart
Love blooms at night
In daylight it dies
Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Or keep your heart from me
For some day I'll return
And you know you're the only one I'll ever love

(Don't let the stars get in your eyes)
(Don't let the moon break your heart)

To many miles (to many miles)
To many days (to many days)
To many nights to be alone
(To many night all alone)
Oh, please keep your heart while we are apart
Dontcha linger in the moonlight when I'm gone
(While I'm gone)

Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Don't let the moon break your heart
(Don't let the moon break your heart)
Love blooms at night
In daylight it dies
Don't let the stars get in your eyes
Or keep your heart from me
For some day I'll return
And you know your the only one I'll ever love
(I'll ever love)
I'll ever love

You're the only one (you're the only one)
I'll ever love

Folks, This has got to be parody night. Dys, I think I like that better than What Child is this...hee hee.

Don'tcha love those revolutionary songs?


Cows With Guns

by Dana Lyons
Copyright 1996 Lyons Brothers Music (BMI)
All Rights Reserved
[email protected]
Fat and docile, big and dumb
They look so stupid, they aren't much fun
Cows aren't fun

They eat to grow, grow to die
Die to be et at the hamburger fry
Cows well done

Nobody thunk it, nobody knew
No one imagined the great cow guru
Cows are one

He hid in the forest, read books with great zeal
He loved Che Guevera, a revolutionary veal
Cow Tse Tongue

He spoke about justice, but nobody stirred
He felt like an outcast, alone in the herd
Cow doldrums

He mooed we must fight, escape or we'll die
Cows gathered around, cause the steaks were so high
Bad cow pun

But then he was captured, stuffed into a crate
Loaded onto a truck, where he rode to his fate
Cows are bummed

He was a scrawny calf, who looked rather woozy
No one suspected he was packing an Uzi
Cows with guns

They came with a needle to stick in his thigh
He kicked for the groin, he pissed in their eye
Cow well hung

Knocked over a tractor and ran for the door
Six gallons of gas flowed out on the floor
Run cows run!

He picked up a bullhorn and jumped up on the hay
We are free roving bovines, we run free today

We will fight for bovine freedom
And hold our large heads high
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die
Cows with guns

They crashed the gate in a great stampede
Tipped over a milk truck, torched all the feed
Cows have fun

Sixty police cars were piled in a heap
Covered in cow pies, covered up deep
Much cow dung

Black smoke rising, darkening the day
Twelve burning McDonalds, have it your way

We will fight for bovine freedom
And hold our large heads high
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die
Cows with guns

The President said "enough is enough
These uppity cattle, its time to get tough"
Cow dung flung

The newspapers gloated, folks sighed with relief
Tomorrow at noon, they would all be ground beef
Cows on buns

The cows were surrounded, they waited and prayed
They mooed their last moos,
they chewed their last hay
Cows outgunned

The order was given to turn cows to whoppers
Enforced by the might of ten thousand coppers
But on the horizon surrounding the shoppers
Came the deafening roar of chickens in choppers

We will fight for bovine freedom
And hold our large heads high
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die
Cows with guns

Ooopsie, the weather person forgot herself in song for a minute.

To borrow from George Carlin; "The weather forecast for tonight is dark." For many of you, it really is dark. I'll try to get with the program tomorrow, at least for a few parts of the world.

Here is a look at something outside ourselves:

My word, edgar. I had almost forgotten that song. Doesn't that song sorta fly beat? (bet no one here knows the origin of that expression, listeners)

Diane, that was hilarious. Reminded me of dys' earlier phun in the pun.

Question for the Irish:

Can a four leaf clover substitute for the shamrock?

The fire now is slowing, with coals softly glowing
'Tis time for a story of long long ago
A tale of great sorrow but hope for the morrow
So lend me your ears as the story now flows
His name was Llewelyn, in Wales he was dwellin'
A prince and a hunter and a warrior so bold
He took as his bride a young princess from England
A beautiful maiden, her name it was Joan.
Her father then gave them his most prized possession
A greyhound named Gelert, a dog of great worth
He could run like the wind, was a brave and loyal friend
Was a noble companion at hunt and at hearth
Now Joan bore a baby, a son to Llewelyn
A prize and delight to his parents' great joy
And Gelert soon too took his part in the pleasure
He'd sleep by the cradle and watch over the boy.

Llewelyn blew his horn one fine summer's morning
For hunting was his pleasure and his dog would come too
But Gelert in the hall never answered the calling
So Llewelyn went hunting with one dog too few
But upon his return, no success in the greenwood
He was tired and angry that his dog did not come
By Gelert he was greeted, all blood head to his feet
Said Llewelyn to Gelert, "What deed hast thou done?"

The blood trail of doom led to the baby's chamber
An overturned cradle in a crimson red pool
Then Gelert did whine though for the last time
For Llewelyn's great anger was swift and was cruel
"Thou monstrous beast on my son thou wast feasting"
He slew Gelert swiftly one strike from his sword
The greyhound did yelp, as the stories all telling
He gazed at his master, his life from him poured.

Then came another cry from under the cradle
The baby awakened, unharmed and alone
And not far away, was a dead wolf a laying
And Gelert the hero was still on the stone
So the dog was then buried by a stone called "Bedd Gelert"
For centuries after the story was told
Of a great canine hero and a judgement too hasty
And the burden of guilt for Llewelyn to hold.

Diane, yes--dark ..That was a lovely sky lab thingy.

Dys, I swear that song reminded me of a story that I read when I was a small and impressionable thing. It must be true, but the way you put it into verse was awesome. When you get a chance, please tell me the origin, ok?