Filking blogger…

Okay–

I sat down last night to post an honest-to-blog blog, and the computer took a dump so I couldn’t. It was all about my hair cut (lots of hairs cut. Really short.) And how, after the kids called it a ‘fro’, and ‘grandma Flossie-do’ (after my real grandma Flossie, of course) I threatened to cut Big T’s hair in his sleep. (This is something my Grandma Helen would have actually done–she shaved a strip out of my Uncle Paul’s beard as he slept AFTER he came home a decorated veteran from Korea–that woman would do anything to get her way!) Mate even played into it the next morning by asking Big T if he’d checked a mirror–there was some panicked checking and mom pretty much cracked up, and mostly, it was high Lane-family comedy, and I was going to share, but, like I said, blogger took a dump.

So I’m going to bless you with filk.

Filk is known as a ‘fake folk song’ — basic doggerel poetry, usually set to some sort of recognizable tune. I participate on the boards in amazon.com, most notably one known as KTT– Kill That Thread. It’s in the Fantasy section of the boards, and we mostly talk to hear our own cyber-voices, trying to win a book donated by one of the participants. (VULNERABLE is in the offering next–I’m sort of excited:-) Mostly, the last one to post in a time allotment wins–except the last KTT was so busy, it turned out to be the last person to post before amazon.com crashed the thread, and that was fun too. Filking happens here. Filthy filking happens here–and that’s hard to do, given amazon.com won’t let you say shit, (or fuck or bitch or, sometimes, crap, which is why you see ‘carp’ a lot. It won’t let you say ‘hung like a horse’ either–believe me, I’ve tried.) Anyway, I’ve got a couple of filks on this particular thread, and a very nice person (Jenclone!) went through and started an entire other thread featuring our filk, and I thought I’d treat (uhm, subject?) you all to some of it, since blogger ate my last post and all–and I have to go get ready for work!

(To the tune of Turn Up the Radio by Autograph http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fy8eHkTfKRs )

Turn up, the filking puns…
I hear the stinking, I’ve gotta run…
Turn up! The pun machine!
I wannna make all KTT scream…
I’m writing hard, you’re writing too..
We write here everyday…
For some writing is, a drudgery.
For us it’s only play…
Day in/day out/ all week long…
Things go better with filk!
I’m punning twenty-four hours a day…
Until my cortex wilts…
Turn up the filking puns
I hear the stink and I wanna run…
Turn up the pun machine
I wanna hear all KTT scream…

This next one was inspired by a discussion started by Archer, who is a bow-hunter and a long-distance horse racer, and she told us that big boobs make bow-hunting difficult.

“No, Archer,” wailed musicraven unhappily, “You can’t tell us that girls with big boobs can’t shoot!”

Amy Lane says:
Uh-oh– I feel a filk coming on…

Big boobs can’t shoot
Big boobs can’t shoot…

Bi-ig girls… can’t sho-oot..
(They can’t shoot.)
Bi-ig girls. Can’t shoot.
(Who says, they can’t shoot.)
My girl wondered why-yyy
(Wondered why)
Boobs send arrows awry
(That’s just an arrow-by…)
Big girls can’t shoot, big girls can’t shoot…
Silly girl…
When you pull your arrow back
Your big boobs pick up the slack
When you let that arrow fly
Your boobs put your aim awry…
Big girls can’t shoot… big girls can’t shoot
Big girls can’t shoot… big girls can’t shoot…
Ba-by… say goodbye-ye-ye
(Say goodbye)
When you let that arrow fly,
And don’t wonder why-y-y…
Your boobs sent it awry…

This next one was from a ‘Shakespeare inspired’ filking contest–it’s not as good as Archer’s filk about dryer lint and Shakespeare, but it will do:

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome I wear my slash/goggles in Rome I wear my slash/goggles in Rome…
Slash Goggles In Rome (Sunglasses at Night)
Julius Caesar (I can only get away with this because A. I’ve taught this play before, and B. I write m/m romance. Trust me–there was something between Brutus and Cassius that doesn’t show up in the history books or your mother’s Shakespeare.)

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome
So I can know how it goes
And see what Cassius has in mind…

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome
Cause Brutus is too innocent to know
His honest truth for Cassius’ lies…

Oh heeee’s deceiving you…
Caesar is your friend too,
He loves you Brutus but you won’t see…

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome
So when Cassius makes his move
I see that Brutus is who he wants…

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome
So I can tell them to get a room
If Cassius professes his love just one more time…

Brutus, heeeee’s deceiving you…
Caesar could live too
If only you’d just talk it ouuuuuuutt…

Oh Brutus, heeeeee’s got his eye on you
And he thinks your boss does too
Which is why Caesar has to diiiee…

Watch Cassius bare his breast to the wind,
Watch how he brags about his hot bod
And how he holds you when you’re down…

Watch Cassius weep when things go bad
And how he won’t admit you’re had
Not even when your wife is dead…

Oh hhheeeeee’s deceiving you…
And if you want him too
You proved your desire by your act…

I wear my slash/goggles in Rome I wear my slash/goggles in Rome I wear my slash/goggles in Rome…

And finally, my favorite, Hamlet. The tune is pretty obscure, so I posted a url to hear ‘In Candy’s Room’, which is one of my all-time favorite Bruce Springsteen songs:-)

In Hamlet’s Room
(To Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Candy’s Room’– http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oTFJhhWW8g&feature=related if you haven’t heard the song…)

In Hamlet’s Room
There’s pictures of his father on the wall
but to get to Hamlet’s room, you’ve got to walk the darkness of a hero’s fall.
Old friends from his childhood
Knock on Hamlet’s door and bring him toys,
But when Horatio knocks, he smiles pretty,
Because Horatio wants to be… no one’s boy.

There’s a sadness, hidden in that pretty face–
A sadness all his own
From which. His. Mom. Can’t. Keep. Hamlet. Safe.
Ophelia’s Kiss, sucks the logic from his brain,
But the logic wouldn’t remain
When he feigns madness anyway.

He goes ranting,
Ranting out into the night,
Ranting ’bout dark and the light
And how a murder palls the dazzling sky…

He says “Baby if I want revenge…
I’ve got a lot to learn
I’ve got to face hell for real
I’ve got to be. Willing. To. Burn…

And in the darkness, there be hidden truths that hurt…
When Ophelia gets to close
He makes those hidden truths hers.

And he! Loves vengeful speeches and sharpened words!
And he! Dreams his mother and his lover have somehow heard!

But it’s wasted breath…
Cause what (what) he (he) wants (wants) is DEATH!

Oh how he’s hurting so! He’ll never let it go! (No no no no no…)

He knows he must give, all that he has to give, even his will to live…
To make vengeance his…
TONIGHT!

And that’s all, folks.. maybe next post, blogger will behave!!!!