Smooth, Suave.... With a Dash of Delusional

Now, I don't want to keep banging on about this, but as clearly indicated in previous posts I am certainly a man with the style and sophistication of plankton. It's true, it's true, but what can one do?

In the hope that by evacuating this fact into the blogosphere the returned energy will transform me into S & S on legs (oh brother, this is what happens after a dull day in the office!), to whit:

Slouched upon my couch, I was indulging in a vigorous session of ponderification regarding the issue of existentialism. Climaxing with the realisation that I had no idea what existentialism even meant, I focused on the development of deep seeded envy for those who were smarter than I and could discuss the topic with ease and at will. When behold, out of the corner of my eye I spotted upon the television screen one of my favourite cartoons and was distracted enough to put all other thoughts out of my mind.

(It is perhaps prudent to point out how nicely I have shown the ability of my brain to shift gear so swiftly from sputtering along with complex topics to purring with the simple and childish. Just like my Vespa, my brain works much better when it is on a downward gradient)

Titled "The Three Little Bops", it is a triumph. Produced in the mid fifties, it is just short of seven minutes of wonderful jazz music and swingin' lyrics. As expected it is based on the "Three Little Pigs" fairytale, however there is no indication of a homosexual threesome arrangement, and the phrase "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin" is thankfully omitted, although the big bad wolf does exclaim, "...if I can't blow it down I'll blow it up" at one stage. Stop it, that mind of yours!

Essentially, the pigs are terrific musicians and the big bad wolf desires to join their group. However, his musical skills are inversely proportional to his enthusiasm and they give him short shrift. Ultimately, in what is a stock standard outcome for cartoons of the era he comes a cropper of a load of TNT. Extinguished of life, he is next noticed roasting (surprisingly happily) in the depths of hell, albeit with a sudden ability to play the trumpet with panache.

And here, here is where the phrase is uttered, words to live by:

"The big bad wolf he learned the rule,
Ya gotta get hot to play real cool!"

There's a lesson there for me...... somewhere.

*not seen the cartoon? You can find it on youtube, what are you waiting for?*