Baby You’re a Ridge Mat Lyrics

I am tempted this morning to write a story.  Yesterday had enough events in it that I could use them to illustrate different things, and thus the reader could come away with a different point of view*.  But, I have never done that, write stories, since I was 14 in 1966.  My story is called, “The Stranger”.  The protagonist’s name is Harry Mund.   It no longer exists.  I think it was film noir.  That is, I was enamored with the French word for black at the time.  We had roasted marshmallows often, and my mother instructed us kids how to do it, then praising us by saying how we got it to a “nice golden brown.”  I left mine in the fire until it caught fire, then I blew it out and said mine was a nice golden black.  I pulled off the crust and discarded it, and the marshmallow was then half its size, but nice and gooey.  That was when it began to dawn on me the story about food.  It takes a while to become obese, and I could see that with a festive atmosphere there were really very few limits how many “whores devours” (hors d’oeuvres) you could stuff down your gullet.  There are always minions who may be dispatched to recover twigs off the trees, allowing time to consume raw marshmallows.  There was a little deception practiced there.  Like I say, it is obesity, and key to its danger is the feeling that what somebody does not know will not hurt them.  I went on to discover words some more, and, to this day I make up words, to put it mildly.  In this sense I only have two words, jack and bone, and it is my belief that all human thought can be expressed with various “permutations” of these two.  I do not say it is combinations due to not wanting to slip a fast-food reference in on you.  Suffice it to say that an iconoclastic word or two may be employed to substitute for any given word someone else might say, in order to complete the person’s thought for them.  Many speakers are unaware of that which they are truly trying to say, or, perhaps they know the word but are slow in getting it out, becuase, they do pause.  Perhaps people are unsure how words will be received and hesitate.  I say to signal rather than to talk, and, many gestures speak louder than words.  Right here, the French usage of  “aurum noir (golden black)”, would easily extend to grown-up ideas (racism), and, alike to Donald Jay Fagan, I am willing to move up to an understanding of dildoes (although this word may be softened for the public using the string of milk.  Milk may be called “melk”.  People who are killed may be decribed as “kelled”, and an emphasis upon this “word” would leave some room for doubt whether they were in fact dead).  So, I can call a dildo a “deldo”.  Fagan is the writer in Steely Dan.  He is the one with the glasses.  A Steely Dan is a dildo brand name.  I always imagine women using dildos, especially picking them out in stores.  I notice that some are black (plastic).  That’s called a filled polymer.  Carbon is used.  It works on rubber, too.  I do not want to say “nigger”; but I go to zoos and we don’t say “chimp” either.  They’re bonobos.  I guess you could get away with “chimps”,  but you still might get a curious look as to the meaning you mean.  I use “nigrio deldo” to mean one of those black dildos, but that is not far enough.  It still provides recognition to the intitiates.  Like, well, Fagan says, uh, not what he says, what he says without saying, but I looked him up and that caused some of what he says to have gotten in here despite, you know, the world.  He says “black person”.  I refuse to post it all.  So, what is it in “niggers” that causes the alarm bells to ring; that it has been said?  Well, probably that n-i-g, there being no other words starting there, although niggardly and by extension dastardly emerge.  N-i, “nih”, doesn’t leave much doubt, and n-e-g is not fooling anyone, so, I’d have to go to a nike, a nyaj, or hell, the other way, to n-o.  No, that’ll only stutter.  You will say, “No, definitely no niggers, and, thank you.”  N-niggers, n-n-niggers, no niggers, n-nog.  I have to try “A”.  Nix, naggers are niggers.  Nug.  That just means a bud of marijuana now.  That’s why people call them dinges.  I just can’t fix nigrio deldo, but, I like Steely Dan just fine.

I plowed up this whole post, this post hole.  I was thinking noble thoughts prior to this.  They tell you how to write blogs, but I was trying to do it my own way.  That’s okay.  We have WikiLeaks and we have an Arab revolt.

I’ll abandon my original thoughts.  They weren’t very ambitious.  I got a ticket yesterday and I could have worked on how the pig lied to me.  He had decided to write me a ticket, but, before he handed it to me he said all he wanted was, I can’t remember now.  It was a smokescreen.  Was it to drive safely?  No, that was last.  It was about using the hands-free, I think.  I think it was a thing where he was saying, “I want something and the way that I will get it is by force.”

But, I have to go.  I always am subject to leave this room because I have a kid.  It is not the air and sunshine, not the food.  Yeah, it’s the drugs.  The kid cost me.  It turned out later it was the kid, and I refused to go.  He was unaccounted for for awhile.  It is actually, in his life, a lack of the marshmallow roasting and camping in general I have yet to fix, and he thinks he doesn’t go camping because he doesn’t like it.  No, it’s the answer:  “Why don’t you want to go camping, Nicholas”, I might say, and he could say it is because of the bears.  I have to go.

*A Boy Named Sue

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3 Responses to “Baby You’re a Ridge Mat Lyrics”

  1. Leb Says:

    THATS what they’re really saying in the beatles tune! ive been wondering that for years

    • sbillinghurst Says:

      “Mat” can be “math”, “Ridge” can be “Orig(inal)”, where the original thoughts must follow rather unoriginal placements (placemats) in time of the things. The map has Spain below England and England walked on Spain like a doormat, and Spain started thinking, “What’s the use? We got nothing to lose.” John was riding on a plane and became comfortable since the assassination threat was lifted for the duration of the ride, and he came up with somewhat new lyrics. He was sitting next to Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, and he sang, “Baby, you’re rich fag Jew”, but, Brian had failed to negotiate any good deals for the Beatles. They’d go to the Hollywood Bowl and this piece of shit Bob Eubanks (“The Newlywed Game”), successfully made it so, they’d asked for a case of Coca-Cola and a television in their hotel room, and he makes it they get the case of Coke, but not the television. It was on one of those things where he probably thought he could return it within thirty days back to Sears but lacked the balls to pull it off. I mean, I can have you meet me at Sears to get two TVs at half-price by posing as a Sears employee and we meet at the elevator. You give me the money and I disappear since I never worked there. ‘Course, Bob also has a halo because he doesn’t shoot heroin, but not me. I steal $5,000 a day and sell it for $200 and shoot $200. The math works. $5,000 is all the Beatles got for playing Hollywood Bowl in 1964.

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