Friday, February 10, 2006
Melt Your Cold, Cold ...
Thanks to global warming -- uh, I mean "climate change" -- the winter has taken a little while longer to come this year, but it's definitely here now. The Georgia Department of Health has issued its usual set of guidelines to help us through the season. If you're driving, for instance, be sure to stock your trunk with several warm blankets, a flask full of Knob Creek, and a copy of Jack Pendarvis' "The Mysterious Secret of the Valuable Treasure" (you'll still probably freeze to death, but at least you'll be laughing along the way to rigor mortis). If you're planning on shovelling snow, be sure to start at your front door and work your way towards the street; that way, the Department of Sanitation can more easily cart off your cardiac-arrested ass. Senator Saxby Chambliss suggests wrapping yourself in the warmth of the US flag; Governor Sonny Purdue recommends the same, unless it's an election year, in which case a Confederate flag will work even better.
But what if you're really, really cold, though? You know: the kind of cold that chills you down to the cockles of your, well, cockles? Singer, songwriter, and amateur urologist Harry Barris wondered to himself about the discomfort brought about by gonadal frostiness. His solution to keeping one's nether region toasty was to dance, as the chafing of adjacent orifices produces enough heat to warm the surrounding region. Red Nichols (trumpet), Miff Mole (trombone), Alfie Evans (clarinet), Frank Signorelli (piano), and Ray Bauduc (drums) wholeheartedly concurred, and produced the following balm to act as encouragement. I'd suggest that you liberally apply to the affected area; repeat, often, as necessary.
The Original Memphis Five: Taint Cold (1926) [buy]
This Weekend in Atlanta:
It's frosty cold, so I'll be watching my new DVD of Tom Snyder's Tomorrow show and eating some pizza from Savage. Pick up your black slacks, black turtleneck, and black sports jacket from the cleaners so that you can mingle amongst the twitterati at the annual Art Papers auction (7p - 11p at Mason Murer Fine Art). It'll set you back $25 to get in, so plan to suck down lots of Grad Student Zinfandel to get your money's worth. Sunday afternoon is the monthly New York Corned Beef Society meeting at Twain's in Decatur. We're fixing dinner for friends (bean quesadillas and tortilla soup), so feel free to grab our table out front. If all else fails, you can puke out corndogs and popcorn and see how long it takes a clown to cover it up with sawdust -- the circus is in town!
Posted by Phil at 5:58 PM