I am about to break my number one rule for blogging, and for very good reason. I am formally making an excuse for not posting daily this week. On Wednesday night, I caught a wicked ass virus that knocked me on my ass seriously for 24 hours. It was crazy. I fear my brain may have short-circuited from the extended fever.
I have been trying to figure out what made me so ill. The only working clue I have to work on is this mash up.
And now, a mash up.
In an alternate universe, this song is not a mash up, but an actual top ten song. Also, in that universe, dogs walk people.
Now, said, mash up.
The rarely seen Marlboro Man® when he was a girl.
It was 1974. The Marlboro Man® knew only two things. He had lung cancer and he was going to die alone. He only cared about the latter. He coughed up a gob of black mucous, presumably with pieces of his lungs, into his hand. He looked at it curiously before casually wiping it on the back pocket of his jeans.
Apparently, there is no such thing as a good tenor joke.
It was only appropriate that a man named Tenor Vibrato was a singer. To be clear, this was his stage name, his real name was Tenor Moore. He was often likened to Frank Sinatra, never because of his singing voice nor appearance, but because of his irrational bully tendencies that teetered on straight ahead asshole behavior.
He was sweating profusely, pacing about in the dressing room, in an absolute tizzy over an indecent proposal just hours before. Three thugs who worked for Huggsy Stallone, Tick, Tack and Toe, advised Tenor to take a dive on the last song. The odds were very high that he would have blown it anyway, for he wasn’t so good. The truth of the matter, he lacked stamina.
Tenor asked the obvious question, “And if I don’t?”
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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