To say Cunk is an idiot is an insult to idiots—this is a person who stone-facedly inquires whether the pyramids were built from the top down. She calls the academics she speaks to “clevernauts” and “expertists” and then proceeds to ask these befuddled “boffins” about anal bleaching in ancient Rome. In between, she characterizes the advent of farming as a product of lazy hunters, math as a “tragic invention,” sports as “theater for stupid people,” the Model T as a “truly terrible car” and missionaries as “God’s bitches.” With her pop culture knowledge far outstripping her knowledge of literally anything else, she at least nails the name of the 5-part series’ religious episode: “Faith/Off.” Through all of it—even through the show’s inexplicable “Pump Up the Jam” leitmotif—Morgan never breaks. This is stupidity at its deadest seriousness.
Italian singer Adriano Celentano released a song in the 70s with nonsense lyrics meant to sound like American English, apparently to prove Italians would like any English song. It was a hit, and resulted in this: THE GREATEST VIDEO I HAVE EVER SEEN. pic.twitter.com/B3mQWmQgXq
New developments in How Little Can I Exercise: if you crank the above heavy flywheel – zero resistance bike at max effort for FOUR SECONDS at one-minute intervals, you see:
– increased overall fitness
– increased muscle mass and leg strength
– reduced stiffness of your arteries
The HIIT (high intensity interval training) workouts have gone berserk. Fifteen four-second bursts, three days a week for several weeks, gets you the benefit. They’ve finally studied it in old schlubs like us.
Beneath the mayhem and incompetence, this is a good song with a great hook in the chorus. And the lyrics are as true as any. According to Wikipedia, Terry Adams of NRBQ likened their melodies to Ornette Coleman. I hear what he’s getting at. The long melodic lines appear to meander, but then they resolve into a nutty coherence. But I dunno that they remind me that much of Ornette Coleman. Since none of you can throw a beer at me for being a pretentious ass (today, at least), I’ll go ahead and submit that their melodic lines remind me of Hector Berlioz.
Love ’em or hate ’em, the Shaggs are a genuine enigma, and those are always interesting.
If you happen to run across an original pressing (you won’t), snap it up. They’e very rare and worth thousands.