I can date the beginnings of my Descent Into Madness fairly accurately.
There was the day in April 1962 when, as a tender young lad of nine, I purchased my first Mad magazine.
And there was the Baked Potato incident that took place right around that same time. This probably had nothing to do with Mad magazine, but nevertheless was a cautionary flag indicating that I had a predisposition for Extreme Foolishness.
There was a children’s song, you see, one that was entitled “Desperado.” It predated the (completely different) Eagles song by many years...and the lyrics, best as I can remember them, went something like this:
He was a desperado from the wild and woolly West,
He came into Chicago just to give the West a rest.
He wore a big sombrero and a gun beneath his vest
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop.
Chorus:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a big tornado,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
He went to Coney Island just to take in all the sights,
He saw the hootchie-kootchie and the girls dressed up in tights
He got so darned excited that he shot out all the lights,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
A great big fat policeman was a-walking down his beat,
He saw this desperado come a-walking down the street.
He grabbed him by the whiskers, and he grabbed him by the seat
And threw him where he wouldn’t give his war whoop.
[Now, thanks to the magic of the Inter-Webby-Net, I don’t have to rely solely on my memory. I actually found the lyrics at this website...amazing!]
I suppose I must’ve been at day camp that summer, and it’s entirely possible that I learned the song there...or perhaps it was on one of my kid brother’s vast collection of Kiddie LP’s. But it was the chorus that stuck in my mind like an earwig:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a big tornado,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
Many years later, my own children would discover that their Daddy had a nasty tendency to monkey with song lyrics...and this is where it all began. For in my head, the chorus of “Desperado” was subtly different:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a baked potato,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
For some reason, this Minor Lyrical Alteration struck me as hysterically funny. I would think of it at random moments and become doubled over in gut-wrenching, blackout-inducing uncontrollable laughter. Scary behavior in a nine-year-old.
Desperado...tornado...baked potato. From such humble beginnings sprang forth my career of committing High Crimes and Misdemeanors against the English language.
That was over 45 years ago...yet ever since then, I’ve never been able to listen to a song without thinking up ridiculous alternative lyrics. The only difference between me and Weird Al Yankovic is that (1) he has real musical ability, and (2) he’s managed to make a career out of that sort of narrischkeit.
I’m not sure if wearing the occasional Colander Headgear is better or worse...baked potato...baked potato...
There was the day in April 1962 when, as a tender young lad of nine, I purchased my first Mad magazine.
And there was the Baked Potato incident that took place right around that same time. This probably had nothing to do with Mad magazine, but nevertheless was a cautionary flag indicating that I had a predisposition for Extreme Foolishness.
There was a children’s song, you see, one that was entitled “Desperado.” It predated the (completely different) Eagles song by many years...and the lyrics, best as I can remember them, went something like this:
He was a desperado from the wild and woolly West,
He came into Chicago just to give the West a rest.
He wore a big sombrero and a gun beneath his vest
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop.
Chorus:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a big tornado,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
He went to Coney Island just to take in all the sights,
He saw the hootchie-kootchie and the girls dressed up in tights
He got so darned excited that he shot out all the lights,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
A great big fat policeman was a-walking down his beat,
He saw this desperado come a-walking down the street.
He grabbed him by the whiskers, and he grabbed him by the seat
And threw him where he wouldn’t give his war whoop.
[Now, thanks to the magic of the Inter-Webby-Net, I don’t have to rely solely on my memory. I actually found the lyrics at this website...amazing!]
I suppose I must’ve been at day camp that summer, and it’s entirely possible that I learned the song there...or perhaps it was on one of my kid brother’s vast collection of Kiddie LP’s. But it was the chorus that stuck in my mind like an earwig:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a big tornado,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
Many years later, my own children would discover that their Daddy had a nasty tendency to monkey with song lyrics...and this is where it all began. For in my head, the chorus of “Desperado” was subtly different:
He was a brave, bold man and a desperado,
From Cripple Creek, way down in Colorado,
And he walked around like a baked potato,
And everywhere he went he gave his war whoop!
For some reason, this Minor Lyrical Alteration struck me as hysterically funny. I would think of it at random moments and become doubled over in gut-wrenching, blackout-inducing uncontrollable laughter. Scary behavior in a nine-year-old.
Desperado...tornado...baked potato. From such humble beginnings sprang forth my career of committing High Crimes and Misdemeanors against the English language.
That was over 45 years ago...yet ever since then, I’ve never been able to listen to a song without thinking up ridiculous alternative lyrics. The only difference between me and Weird Al Yankovic is that (1) he has real musical ability, and (2) he’s managed to make a career out of that sort of narrischkeit.
I’m not sure if wearing the occasional Colander Headgear is better or worse...baked potato...baked potato...
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