Well, it’s a happy thanksgiving to my legions of fans out there (Mr and Mrs. Fred and Matilda Legions of Ambleside) and what a thanksgiving this is going to be. Now that I’ve been laid off from work I’ve got much too much time on my hands, but unlike pomp-rockers Styx I won’t waste it writing crappy songs; instead I’ll use it to write crappy blog posts instead. Now I’m not going to promise a blog post a day, that would be cruel and unusual punishment but I will attempt to put my jumbled, garbled thoughts down onto a screen. *looks at all the unfinished blog posts in his collection and walks away whistling nonchalantly*
So the past week or so, thanks to my lack of job, I’ve just been wandering about kicking rocks and such and was amazed to discover that rocks didn’t like to be kicked but they did like to have their pictures taken and have a good old natter as well.
This is Gerald. He’s a happy, little soul with a kind word for everyone. You can see him round town smiling, giving friends and strangers a cheery wave and a happy “Hello!” to any and all passers-by. Gerald is one of the good guys in life that will make you smile and will make you feel good about yourself. Next time you see him ask him about his thimble collection; it’s a good three or four hours well spent in convivial company.
Next up is Rhett and he’s a handsome bugger to go with such a handsome name. The reason why he has that enigmatic smile is that he is the real reason why Carly Simon wrote ‘You’re So Vain’. The way Rhett tells it, Carly was backpacking round the country and stopped off one night in a local tavern where she caught the gaze of a shy, but handsome young stone. Their eyes locked and, to spare Rhett’s blushes and those of my more sensitive readers out there, magic happened and the next morning Carly was inspired to wrote a heartfelt, passionate and quite obscene song about that night. However, once passions had cooled and the cold light of the afternoon had cleared young Carly’s mind, she realised that she would have to change the lyrics as she wasn’t 100% sure her record label would allow such words as ‘clitoris’, ‘labia’ ‘penetration’ and ‘thrusting rock-cock’ to be in one of her songs; although on a side-note, nobody batted an eyelid when Whitesnake used those words in there 1978 hit “I’ve Got A Cock (Bigger Than A Cadillac)”. So, despite all the rumours of who the song was really about (Mick Jagger, Warren Beatty, Harvey Korman) no-one really knew it was about a young, handsome stone with an enigmatic smile.
This is Terry and he’s a bigoted old git! He’s prejudiced against gravel (“liberal know-it-alls”), pebbles (“work-shy scroungers”), rubble (“bloody foreigners!”), cobblestones (“unnatural perverts!”), boulders (they smell!”) and shale (“they’re not even real stones!”). So if you see Terry around town, avoid him like you avoid chuggers.
Finally we come to Melvin. Melvin’s is a sad story: a stone who remembers the time when he was worshiped and loved by his people; when people left food and libations for him; when the virgins of the village danced naked around him in the moonlight in the hopes of finding a suitor; how young couples would make love beneath his shadow in the hopes of their newly-made baby would receive Melvin’s blessing; how, on sacred occasions, all the men and the women of the village would partake in coupling ceremonies to help keep the village safe and strong. Melvin was happy and content with his life until one day strangers from another land came by and removed Melvin from his sacred place and brought him back to their land; a land where no naked, nubile virgins cavorted and frolicked in front of him; where no shy, young couples would make love in his shadows and where he his magic powers and gifts could not be bestowed on anyone anymore. It is said that when the moon is waxing gibbous and the night air is still you can hear a strange, plaintive cry across the fields of: “You fucking bastards! I’ll kill the fucking lot of you! You utter, utter arseholes! Where’s the naked women, you fuckers!” That will be Melvin.