I ain’t gonna…

I have the privilege of knowing some really strange people. I count this as a blessing, as not just anyone can relate to and tolerate the workings and expressions of my warped mind. For example, my friend Drama eats all meat, including burgers and bacon, but is disgusted by chicken. And don’t even try to feed him a vegetable. My boy Shano insists that the one-legged wrestler from Arizona State had an unfair advantage over his competitors. The craziest part is that if you listen to his argument long enough, it starts to make sense. An ex-girlfriend of mine not only narrates her dog’s life by affecting a high-pitched voice, but will also transcribe the canine’s thoughts into some sort of hackneyed LOLspeak. Another friend recently asked me if I thought it would be worthwhile for him to lobby Congress to pass a law banning left-handed quarterbacks in the NFL. (Didn’t they already try that with Mike Vick?) On the phone recently, my brother told me his house was haunted by slime monsters and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. This coming after he commamded me to stab a carrot into my left ankle. I respectfully declined.

One such mentally defective individual completely ruined the last two days of my life by linking the following video on my Facebook wall:

You can watch to the end if you like, but I can assure you that if you watch the first 45 seconds or so, you’ll have a pretty complete idea of how it ends. The first time I watched it, I spent the first 90 seconds waiting for the other family to come out so Richard Dawson could host the Feud. In addition to having the unfortunately catchy chorus trapped in my head for the last 34 hours, I am completely baffled by the confusing feelings and questions this video stirs in me. I will do my best to be concise in expressing them, but we all know brevity is not my strong suit. I will also present them in a disconnected, rambling fashion. You understand.

The most obvious question is, quite simply, that of what the hell is going on here. I see a large stage, an elaborately constructed set, and although I don’t actually see an audience present, there are certainly indicators that there is one. So, we know this is some sort of public performance…but who exactly is paying admission to see this? And what venue is hosting it? And for what broadcast are they filming? Is this some sort of niche performing art genre that I wasn’t aware of?

Why is that androgynous child staggering across the stage as though it (I’m forced to use a gender neutral pronoun here) is having a stroke? It looks like (s)he is doing a Michael J. Fox impression with about 15 years of foresight. What, too soon? Come on, “Family Guy” is doing it. Once Peter Griffin makes a joke on a previously verboten topic, said topic is no longer off-limits. That’s a scientific fact.

If I could put money on which of that ensemble is the most likely to pee pee the bed tonight, I would bet approximately eleventy billion dollars on the old man with the beard. I would also bet that the second girl from the left is a lesbian, but then again I just like to bet on anything, thanks to a crippling gambling addiction.

What’s the deal with the period costumes? Are they polygamists? Pilgrims? Fancy pirates? Is this their Christmas garb? Are those green pants made of velour? If so, where can I get a pair? Almost certainly at American Apparel. They sell all kinds of ugly shit.

Is this performance supposed to be motivational? Educational? Ironic? I. DON’T. GET. IT.

(By the by, did you know that nocturnal enuresis can be treated behaviorally, without the use of medications? It involves a special sensor attached to a bell that wakes you up before you — ahem — pee pee your bed. It’s remarkably effective. I used to know more about it, but that was back when I was paid to know those sorts of things. Now I get paid nothing, so I make it a point to know as much as my pay grade allows. It’s a fair arrangement.)

Before you get on my case about it, yes, I Googled the Kelly Family. And yes, I found the answers to some of these questions in about 16 seconds by doing so, but only after I wrote this whole post. Seems to me it would be a waste of time to go back and delete it retroactively. I’m also sure as shit not going to go bck and give you the benefit of my knowledge now; where’s the intrigue in that? You want to know about the Kelly Family, you Bing Google them. Although, I will tell you that the person who commented on the YouTube video asserting that the group sold over 20 million albums is astonishingly accurate.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get a head start on making some new friends now that I’ve aired all my current ones’ dirty laundry on the Internet. Oh well; at least I ain’t gonna pee pee my bed tonight.


1 Comment

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One response to “I ain’t gonna…

  1. Savvy

    Further proof that Germans have horrendous taste in music

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