GLURG! GLURG! GLURG! GLURG!
"I'm JOYFULLY INSANE...insane with...with..."
GLURGGLURGGLURGGLURGGLURG!!!!!
"...INSANE with KISSING your TENDER FEET!"
"DONE!"
"Whew!"
"Now for my reward! I think I've earned a little nip!"
NOTE: This is an alteredversion of what I assume is a famous poem but I don't have the name at hand.
39 comments:
I'll drink to that!
It always helps to open the rusty gate of my mind.
Fabulous Job Eddie.
You can find the awful poem that Eddie has so hilariously parodied on the poet's (gak! is that really the right word?) own web site at:
http://www.poemsource.com/love-poems.html
HAHA this is all great but that last picture is my favorite. Classic Eddie. :)
great great great great great great great great great great great, hilarious.
YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN! GENIUS!!
I feel so left out though!!! Is Dorothy taking the pics?
Eddie, this inspired me to finally use the ol' internets to look up a poem I'd read of years ago but never actually found a copy of to read. It's the very poem a presbyterian pastor read at Ernie Kovacs' funeral(Ernie was a non-churchgoing but believing Catholic, btw).
The minister didn't know Ernie, but he ran the church and so, he chose this poem to read, which I'm sure he thought was wonderfully apropos:
It Couldn't Be Done
by Edgar Guest
Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.
Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.
Jack Lemmon(Kovacs' best pal) called it a terrible bit of doggerel and said "There's no way Ernie wasn't circling overhead and laughing his ass of, you can't tell me he wasn't. Christ!"
Now, if you read this in Percy Dovetonsils's voice, it actually is pretty perfect--but hell, they should have just read one of Percy's poems at the service. I guess it would have been too sad.
Anyway, I thought you'd get a kick out of it. It's almost as good as your own ode there. Just almost!
Hahaha! Brilliant!
This is definitely the best little photo-story you've put together to date!
Fiery and inspirational!
Everybody: Thanks, guys!
Kali: Thanks! I took the pictures myself using the timer on the camera.
Jenny: Edgar Guest!!!??? Holy Cow! Hey, did you go to Ernie's funeral?
Lester: Thanks a million!
Did I go to Kovacs' funeral?? In Jan. '62?!
Um, no, Eddie, I was but a zygote at the time, thanks very much.
Now you, on the other hand, could have driven yourself there. : P
Hahahahaha!
You should be rich.
Jenny: Aaargh! I assumed without thinking that Kovacs died in the 1970s sometime. Sorry.
On the other hand, if you were a real fan you would have gone to the funeral even if you were just a zygote.
John: Thanks! After thinking about it, I've decided that rich is better.
That was hilarious!
I laughed much
I enjoy these photo storyboards...Thank You.
I also enjoy your Don Martin-like sound effects!
Bravo
This is the only blog that can get me to laugh aloud so early in the morning. Another great post, Eddie. Pure poetry.
You sure have a lot of spare time on your hands.
In some of these shots your eyes look green, even though I know they are brown. My eyes do that sometimes too. We're Mood Eye Pals! If you do get rich, could you pay off my student loans? That'd be great.
Oh! This weekend will be great because of the high-powered ligh......
you'll see!
Hey Eddie - get an agent, man!
You could be getting PAID for this stuff. You should have a second career as a character actor.
You could be creating Fumetti full-time, (or "Fum-Eddie", if you prefer...)
I don't visit for a few weeks-and when I come back I laugh SO hard!
I can't even remember blogging until you came along Eddie-sorry I didn't see you last week.
A poem for Eddie:
Eddie
Isn't Ready
To go Steady
with Mike.
Note how the author chooses not to ryhme at the end for extra suspense.
Well, firstly I thought as a Philadelphian you'd remembered when poor Ernie died(IIRC we discussed this once).
Anyway, even if he'd died in 72 or 82--I don't think little Jenny would have been let into a private funeral. Kovacs was bigtime, man! Sinatra and Billy Wilder, Dino, Lemmon and others of that ilk carried his coffin for pity's sake. They don't let the hoi polloi into those events.
But back to Guest: isn't it awful? How'd you like that tripe read at your funeral? Yikes! The insolence!
I'm actually old enough to remember when Ernie died. His show was a big hit at the time, as I recall, and I was a fan, so his death was a big shock. As to the Guest poem -- wow! It's bad in just about every way, and so cringingly inappropriate to the funeral of a real artist -- and ironist! (Compare it, BTW, with Kipling's "If," which is in the same genre, but actually good.)
Mike: Thanks! Interesting idea!
Jenny, Lester: I'm not as down on Guest as you are. It's true that Kipling did this sort of thing better, and it is kitsch, but it isn't totally without value. He tried to make poetry useful and inspiring to ordinary people and you have to admire the effort.
Matt: Good to hear from you! I just read the Hirst article on your blog. So HE'S the highest-paid living artist!
The creative proses as only Eddie can show. I agree with John, you should be rich.
Awesome.
" He tried to make poetry useful and inspiring to ordinary people and you have to admire the effort."
No, with apologies, Eddie, I don't. ; )
Really, perfectly average sorts of people back in the day had equal and wide access to Robert Burns, Kipling and other really excellent poets to abide this kind of stuff as honest for "ordinary" minds.
And imho it isn't bad enough to be funny(again, unless read like Dovetonsils).
Eddie, I'm all for poetry-for-the-people too, but it can still be well-written and interesting. In addition to the ones mentioned by Jenny, Robert Service is another people's poet from that era who was actually pretty decent. (And he was an interesting person too, in a Jack London sort of way!)
Michael: Thanks!
Jenny, Lester: I take it you won't be donating to the Edgar Guest memorial fund.
Excellent. Lord Byron, eat your heart out.
Hahaha! Oh man this is great!
Oh, man! Tender feet...
be still my beating heart!
oooh...pirate jacket..wine..nah.. i think what you really needed to bring out the inner poet was some baccardi or jack daniel's... and some vodka.. and a kareoke machine that doesnt work. so you make up your own song, and record it. and vois-la you have britney spear's next hit album and you've officially become a prolific writer/poet!
If I knew where to send it, I'd give you this for Christmas - it has already given me hours of joy and restored back to me the years taken away by the foul tobacco weed.
What else can I say... Your gift inspires me. U are so creative, I must say, too.
Great acting, Eddie!
Josh, not so much.
Eddie:
You are brilliant!
Even poets have tight budgets & short deadlines.
lester hunt:
Thank you for that link. Karl & Johanna are true soulmates.
Eddie! you never fail to make me guffaw like a drunk donkey!
Last: Wow! Thanks for the tip! I'll look for it!
Books in the Background. Mmmmmmm.
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