Resurrecting the Shuffle
Random Memorandum™ to the beleaguered, quaran-teamed citizenry 'round the globe: Perilous times are upon us; no matter one's religulous affiliation or political fibrillation, the Corona® brand viral contagion has had a devastating impact on our health and economies. Indeed, only the quality of our curb-sided, non-contact carryout restaurant service is carrying on unabated. The resulting dispirit amongst the working ranks is evident. As a uniformed official charged with policing the vast and serpentine Misinformation Superhighway®, I see the melancholy etched on the weary faces of your dating app profiles and the despair inked on the distended bellies and halter-topped bosoms of the holstered Tom, Dick and Harriets sitting out front their houses on social media, whilst perfectly good public houses remain shuttered, their video gaming machines unplugged, their toilets unclogged. 'Tis concerning business to be sure, but whilst there is little Yours Truly Dooley® can do from a vaunted perch at a faraway station house, I cannot sit by idly and allow a deathly pallor to march unchecked across the visage of your once great lands. It appears nothing short of Resurrection will be necessary to put a proper Shuffle back into your step, ‘tis why I propose a mass revisiting of the steady beat and jaunty rhythms of the great “Resurrection Shuffle,” by one-hit-wonder-whatever-became-of Ashton Gardner and Dyke. If you were fortunate to have seen these randy lads back in the day, you surely included them on your list of "10 Concerts You’ve Attended and 1 You Spent Outside The Facility, Sans Billfold and Ticket Stub, Heaving Strong Drink on the Pavement." Messrs. Tony Ashton, Chauncey Gardner and Van "Dyke" Parks were Brits, but their raucous foot-stomper enjoyed a lengthy stay atop the Billboard® charts on all sides of the bloody ponds. These fulsome mustachioed horn-and-dope-blowers were packing more than visible maleness in their skin tight Velveteen™ trousers; they had a groove you could dance to and a lead long-hair who provided detailed instruction: Blow a little kiss to the woman next door, put your hands on your hips, being cautious not to let your backbone slip, thrust out your arse end, stick out your tongue, step on the pedal, throw your hair back and flash a peaceable sign like you just don't care, as you're already "nice and high" or something. On and on it went, whatever it meant, haha! Methinks a careful examination of this exuberant 70's novelty will surely resurrect your country's flagging morale, if not morality. Go now: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFCoaNjZqUM
Random Memorandum™ to the beleaguered, quaran-teamed citizenry 'round the globe: Perilous times are upon us; no matter one's religulous affiliation or political fibrillation, the Corona® brand viral contagion has had a devastating impact on our health and economies. Indeed, only the quality of our curb-sided, non-contact carryout restaurant service is carrying on unabated. The resulting dispirit amongst the working ranks is evident. As a uniformed official charged with policing the vast and serpentine Misinformation Superhighway®, I see the melancholy etched on the weary faces of your dating app profiles and the despair inked on the distended bellies and halter-topped bosoms of the holstered Tom, Dick and Harriets sitting out front their houses on social media, whilst perfectly good public houses remain shuttered, their video gaming machines unplugged, their toilets unclogged. 'Tis concerning business to be sure, but whilst there is little Yours Truly Dooley® can do from a vaunted perch at a faraway station house, I cannot sit by idly and allow a deathly pallor to march unchecked across the visage of your once great lands. It appears nothing short of Resurrection will be necessary to put a proper Shuffle back into your step, ‘tis why I propose a mass revisiting of the steady beat and jaunty rhythms of the great “Resurrection Shuffle,” by one-hit-wonder-whatever-became-of Ashton Gardner and Dyke. If you were fortunate to have seen these randy lads back in the day, you surely included them on your list of "10 Concerts You’ve Attended and 1 You Spent Outside The Facility, Sans Billfold and Ticket Stub, Heaving Strong Drink on the Pavement." Messrs. Tony Ashton, Chauncey Gardner and Van "Dyke" Parks were Brits, but their raucous foot-stomper enjoyed a lengthy stay atop the Billboard® charts on all sides of the bloody ponds. These fulsome mustachioed horn-and-dope-blowers were packing more than visible maleness in their skin tight Velveteen™ trousers; they had a groove you could dance to and a lead long-hair who provided detailed instruction: Blow a little kiss to the woman next door, put your hands on your hips, being cautious not to let your backbone slip, thrust out your arse end, stick out your tongue, step on the pedal, throw your hair back and flash a peaceable sign like you just don't care, as you're already "nice and high" or something. On and on it went, whatever it meant, haha! Methinks a careful examination of this exuberant 70's novelty will surely resurrect your country's flagging morale, if not morality. Go now: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFCoaNjZqUM 