Showing posts with label The Big Bang Theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Big Bang Theory. Show all posts

Friday, April 12, 2013

Big Bang, little fizzle




I have completely lost the text to this. What a horrible feeling. It just. . . went away. What I was GOING to say is that this reminds me of some bizarre experiment on The Big Bang Theory. We have contests at our house about the theme song: how fast you can sing it, word-perfect. So, sigh, here are the words:

Our whole universe was in a hot, dense state
Then nearly fourteen billion years ago expansion started - wait -
The earth began to cool, the autotrophes began to drool
Neanderthals developed tools, we built a wall
(We built the pyramids!)
Math, science, history
Unravelling the mystery
That all started with a big bang
BANG!!!

I get stuck on "developed" (invented?) and "unravelling" (examining?). Who cares anyway? There's no prize.

It's Friday and I lost my text and hardly anyone reads this shit anyway, so why don't I just quit?

P. S. this only gets interesting around 1:27. Before that it's all setup.

http://margaretgunnng.blogspot.ca/2013/04/the-glass-character-synopsis.html


Saturday, December 8, 2012

A Song for Found Elephants




This piece has become cornball over the years, kind of like Flight of the Bumblebee (which I hate: the only version I have ever liked is the one in The Big Bang Theory where Sheldon was dressed up as - who WAS he dressed up as? - anyway, he ran real fast to it and it was funny).

I remember hearing it on Mad Men when Betty Draper, in all her 1960s splendour, came down the staircase in a restaurant called (I think) Lutece. Don looked at her in admiration and even awe. But like most of the music in Mad Men, it was really effective.






GOD, when will Mad Men be back? I die inside, I can't wait any longer.

Speaking of things Indian, ever since Slumdog Millionaire, every comedy has to have a funny Indian guy with an accent. The Big Bang Theory is only one example (a GAY Indian guy with an accent). I can't figure out why this is considered OK. They wouldn't have a black guy named Rastus shuffling his feet, would they? Yet these characters talk incessantly about elephants and cobras and arranged marriages, like something out of a Kipling story.




(This is sung by Bjoerling - I won't try to spell his first name - and his silvery voice, vibrating with layer upon layer of overtones, seems to catch slant rays of sunlight. Indian sunlight.)


 

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book
    It took me years to write, will you take a look