I don't believe in dwelling on the past, even though I do. I can't help but notice that when I go on the "did you grow up in Chatham, Ontario?" Facebook page, everyone remembers everyone in my family . . . except me.
I guess I was a cipher. I was invisible. Could I walk through walls? I don't remember.
They remember Arthur - as who wouldn't, mad genius that he was? They remember Walt the musician and my eldest sister Pat. They remember my house.
I remember being alive - it seems I do, but do you know something? My mother left me out of her obituary. I was the only one not named, and it was not an oversight. I was left out deliberately. Some members of my current family were kind of upset that she had lopped off a daughter as casually as docking a dog's tail. Imagine un-happening your own child like that, pretending that she had never been. What kind of heart. . . or lack of it?. . . would be responsible for that?
I can't help but feel that there is NOTHING my children could do that would make me do that to them, cut them out so meanly, so shockingly. They could be axe-murderers. They could axe-murder their father. Still they would be my children, my own, unto death, and I would name them, include them. Acknowledge that they existed, that I gave birth to them and raised them, and that they were loved.
Since I thought of this song - we used to sing it "Cha-tham, Cha-tham, Chatham-Chatham-jing-jing-jing", I thought I'd post a few of the nicer pictures that surfaced during this strange memory-purge.
I don't know why I'd even want to go back, when my mother did her level best to erase me. But maybe it's because she didn't. Hell, people get upset at being cut out of the WILL. But I've never before heard of this, pretending a child was never born, as I so often wished I hadn't been. I was one of those kids who always knew she was an accident, and I suppose this was her way of correcting it (at last!).
But here they are, the pictures, with no explanation at all.
Sometimes I get into these FITS where I must make something. Just. . . something, and because I don't draw or paint or sing any more, or any of that, I make gifs. I got thinking about Detroit (because of that wretched Born in Chatham Facebook page I have disappeared into), and girl groups in the 1960s. Though I wasn't a huge fan at the time, I was aware of the Shangri-Las, mostly from The Leader of the Pack ("Where'd you meet him?" "I met him at the candy store. . . "). This was the ultimate tough-girl group, and with those little gossipy conversations within their song lyrics, it was all very rough and real. Remember (Walkin' in the Sand) wasn't my favorite Shangri-Las song, not by half. I was grabbed by a lesser-known one called I Can Never Go Home Any More, about a runaway girl whose mother is taken away by the angels. But this one, this seagull one that's really kind of sappy, earwormed me today, and I HAD to do something to exorcise it.
I hate cheesy photo montages like death, but I did one, mainly because this song seemed to call for it. The group lasted but a short time, had a few monster hits that I don't feel like looking up, and kept getting back together for concerts (and for all I know they're still doing it). One of the girls was pretty; the other two were not. It just worked, somehow. They were only about 16 years old, and that kind of fame, so fast, has a false bottom in it. But enough about that. I tried to co-ordinate my cheesy beach images and Shangri-La photos with the music, so that the "remember" part with the seagulls will have the same beat to it as the slide show. It gave me something to do on kind of a crap day. I just felt like crap, and slept for two hours this afternoon. But enough about me.
WIKI-CHUNK!
The Shangri-Las' "tough girls" persona set them apart from other girl groups. Having grown up in a rough neighborhood of Queens, New York, they were less demure than their contemporaries. Rumors about supposed escapades have since become legend, for example the story that Mary Weiss attracted the attention of the FBI for transporting a firearm across state lines. In her defense, she said someone tried to break into her hotel room one night and for protection she bought a pistol.
Whatever truth these stories may have, they were believed by fans in the 1960s, and they helped cement the group's bad-girl reputation. According to Weiss, that persona helped fend off advances from musicians on tours.
The Shangri-Las continued to chart with fairly successful U.S. hit records, specializing in adolescent themes such as alienation, loneliness, abandonment and death. Singles included "Give Him a Great Big Kiss", "Out in the Streets", "Give Us Your Blessings", the top ten hit "I Can Never Go Home Anymore", "Long Live Our Love" (a rare example of a song dedicated to the men at the time fighting overseas in Vietnam), "He Cried" and the spoken-word "Past, Present and Future", featuring music from Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". Noteworthy B-sides included "Heaven Only Knows", "The Train from Kansas City", "Dressed in Black" and "Paradise" (written by Harry Nilsson).
Among titles in critics' favorites lists is "I Can Never Go Home Anymore", the story of a girl who leaves home for a boy; her pride keeps her from returning to her mother who "grew so lonely in the end/the angels picked her for their friend". Lines from "Give Him a Great Big Kiss" include "When I say I'm in love, you best believe I'm in love, L-U-V", and "Well I hear he's bad." "Hmm, he's good-bad, but he's not evil." "Past, Present and Future" has been said to be about rape, something Weiss disagrees with. She has said it is about "teenage angst," heartbreak and "being hurt and angsty and not wanting anyone near you."
NOTE. There are LOTS of parodies of these on YouTube, but I decided not to post any of them, not even the SCTV one which is sublime. I like the originals. They evoke. . . something. Some quality of innocence which I perhaps never had. I've been on this "if you grew up in Chatham" Facebook page. . . in it, rather, disappearing into it, and connecting with people who knew my dead brother and my estranged sister and my thuglike Dad who was a pillar of the community. Sometimes I see my own face staring back at me from some other lifetime. It's like something out of the Twilight Zone.
It's quite a weird feeling, unsettling, and addictive. Sometimes you need the hinterland.
To find the really creepy logos, you've got to go off-road. These aren't film companies that anyone has ever heard of (Hikon??). And perhaps it's just as well. Though their logos are cheesy and look sort of low-budget, they have a very high freak-out factor.
I couldn't believe this WAS Orson Welles, thought it was maybe a Welles impersonator, but yes, that's him. I don't know anything about a Rainbow Release. His career did sort of slide downhill at the end. Note how the zoom-in stops at a certain point. That's kind of like MY zoom-ins, where the camera suddenly goes "bzzzzzzzzt".
This whole thing is so weird! Who's that guy, that face that appears in the militant-looking ABC logo, the one with the eagle catching a lightning-bolt in its beak? This looks like the emblem for a white supremacist group. The Super Circus thing is just bizarre. It has a fall of Rome flavour to it. Pre-Howdy Doody, I think.
Again. "An Apple Film". Not sure about this one at all. Reminds me, for some reason, of Dodo, the Kid from Outer Space - maybe the very basic animation.
Red blobs in space? Yes, it's exactly the same.
There's a whole sub-genre of logos from Indian movies. These are quite spectacular, but in most of them nothing moves very much. It's a sort of tableau, with alarming or even freaky-sounding music and sound effects. This one actually has a form of animation in it, though it's strange. A white blob turns into a woman. By the way, if you ever watch any of those "scary logo" compilations with the sound off (late at night, when you really should be in bed), they are suddenly a whole lot less scary. Sound is about 60%.
This one shows up in EVERY scary logo compilation, and do you know what? IT ISN'T A LOGO. At all. It's just a shot at the start of a very old Wizard of Oz movie from 1914. I don't know how they can call it a logo, but it is very strange. So I'll include it. And I've run out of them anyway.
HEMPSTEAD, N.Y. (The Borowitz Report)—Plunging the future of the 2016 Presidential debates into doubt, Donald J. Trump said on Tuesday morning that he would not participate in the remaining two debates if Hillary Clinton is there.
Trump blasted the format of Monday night’s debate by claiming that the presence of Clinton was “specifically designed” to distract him from delivering his message to the American people.
“Every time I said something, she would say something back,” he said. “It was rigged.”
He also lambasted the “underhanded tactics” his opponent used during the debate. “She kept on bringing up things I said or did,” he added. “She is a very nasty person.”
Turning to CNN, Trump criticized the network’s use of a split screen showing both him and Clinton throughout the telecast. “It should have been just me,” he said. “That way people could have seen how really good my temperament is.”
The billionaire said that debate organizers had not yet responded to his ultimatum, but he warned that if he does not get assurances in writing that future debates will be “un-rigged, Hillary-wise,” he will not participate.
“I have said time and time again that I would only do these debates if I am treated fairly,” he added. “The only way I can be guaranteed of being treated fairly is if Hillary Clinton is not there.”
(Though this piece was lightly borrowed from The Borowitz Report, a column in The New Yorker which an alarming number of people take seriously and launch lawsuits against - and Trump may soon be one of them - I agree with its sentiments absolutely. Trump made a kind of sense when he initially stuck to what he was artificially programmed to say, then went "off-road" and sunk himself as usual. It was a great day for America.)
I came across this on Facebook. I usually hate these things, whatever they're called, Little Cards of Wisdom that tell you what to do. They never suggest: they TELL, just assuming you've got it all wrong and need a lesson.
But this one stood out. This is one that few people will even approach in a lifetime, and I am not even sure I agree with all of it.
If forgiveness means "it's OK what you did", then I do not forgive. I do not forgive the several men who molested me when I was a child and a teenager.
If forgiveness means "I don't mind it, I'm over it, it doesn't affect me any more," then I do not forgive.
So what does it mean?
People say it's a "letting go". If I stay angry, I'll burn the rubber down and run on bald tires (or something). So if I just let go of the memory and the damage and the way it all derailed my life, perhaps permanently, then everything will be OK.
I "should" forgive. I will feel so much better if I do.
This is some sort of psychological/spiritual imperative these days.
I don't know how to do this.
I thought I did.
But then, it has that line in it, "through their own confusions". The men who molested me were having a good time and wanted to grab someone's ass and rub up against me, and it didn't matter if it was the 14-year-old sister of the host of the party. They weren't "confused", they were drunk and lecherous and oblivious to my pain.
If they had it to do over again, they'd still do it, because the fact is, they enjoyed it and were not concerned with how much it might damage me. They did not think of that at all.
So do I forgive them? What does that mean? "It's OK that you very nearly brought about my suicide"? It will never be OK.
What IS OK is that I have a life.
In spite of an incredible amount of personal pain, I have reclaimed it. I don't entirely understand this. Idon'twant to hate. I feel sorry for those sorry sons-of-bitches. I pity them (and a couple of them are dead), though I also feel considerable contempt.
Feeling sorry for, and feeling pity - are these things closer to "forgiveness", or to "hate"? This may be as far as I ever go on that glorious, impossibly idealized Buddhist path.
(But that last part, well. No matter how idealized, this is something I need so badly, I can't even tell you.)
This picture reminded me of a certain non-joke I kept hearing a few years ago, mainly because I heard it wrong. The original was quite poignant, but it was hashed or rehashed in one of those dystopia/sci-fi movie things that I hate so much, the Watchmen or something.
After Robin Williams died, it became apparent to most people that this sad-clown joke kind of explained the whole thing. To paraphrase it badly:
Doctor, Doctor, I have this unbearable existential pain.
Then go see this fantastic clown, he will cheer you up.
But I AM this fantastic clown!
This was supposed to explain the death of Robin Williams.
Robin Williams died because he had something called Lewy Body Dementia which is far worse than Alzheimers and slowly eats its victims alive. He was a wraith, a shell of himself, and his "suicide" was his way of taking a final bow after his life had already come to a close. Could he have gone on? There was no "on" to go to. People have chosen physician-assisted suicide for less.
Though his Parkinson's disease is very rarely mentioned, no one ever says anything about the Lewy Body because it came out in the autopsy results a few weeks later. By that time, everyone had lost interest. He was a tragic clown, that's what he was, it was all settled, and besides, what the hell is all this Lewy Body stuff? He was romanticized as a tragic victim of Hollywood and his own excesses. The truth is, he died of a horrible disease.
Thus, yet another opportunity for the public to learn something landed in the sewer.
The famous picture of Chaplin and Einstein at the top of this post surfaced today as I perused the Weekly World News - oops, I mean The Vintage News, my current favorite source of internet comedy. There was a caption featuring a supposed conversation they had. Something like this:
Einstein: Must be nice to have the whole world love you when you never say a goddamn thing.
Chaplin: Nobody knows what the hell you're talking about, so would you please shut up?
I am sure they never had this conversation! I am making it up out of whole cloth. But I did find many, many versions of it in many languages on internet memes with photos of the two of them together, two stuffed shirts, one the Stuffed Shirt of Physics and the other the Stuffed Shirt of Silent Comedy. So I guess it brought back the clown thing, the bad joke endlessly replicated and memed to death.
But that's not why I'm posting this.
As usual, the comments section in The Vintage News is the best part (especially that guy who always strenuously defends Hitler. His Facebook page has all sorts of war medals and shit on it.) There were the expected comments about what beloved figures Chaplin and Einstein were, along with people telling each other to fuck off (for no reason at all except that they could), and then someone said, "wait. What is that creepy face in the middle?"
Can you see it? It seems to be peeping over Chaplin's shoulder.
Good question! Secret Service? I wondered. These guys may or may not have been wearing bulletproof vests under their tuxes. But maybe not! Einstein kept trying to work out how he could make himself into a time traveller, while Chaplin wanted to dominate whatever time he had here and now. Meantime, here is this guy! This mysterious figure - in dark glasses, is it? And on the left, you see more shadowy figures. I keep thinking I see Don Corleone of The Godfather.
These are either beings from another dimension, or - time travellers.
I also want to set something straight that everyone gets wrong. The joke about the clown - they always call him Pagliacci. That means "clowns". So the punch line is, "but Doctor, I AM clowns." Unless you're making one of those wretched unfunny jokes about "schizophrenia", it makes no sense. "Pagliaccio" would be closer, but it means "Clown". "I am clown". The main character in the opera Pagliacci is called Canio, but no one would say, "I am Canio". Sounds like a dog or something.
Another thing. I don't know how many times I've heard Leoncavallo's opera called I Pagliacci.
That means something like "I clowns", which is worse than "I am clowns". I'm not sure where this got started, but there are even excerpts from the opera posted on YouTube labelled WRONG, and it just pisses me off.
The aria posted above isn't from Pagliacci and it isn't by anyone alive. But it is my favorite aria, and by one of my favorite singers, who did not survive long enough to prove his true greatness. As a tenor, his voice would have bloomed some time in his late 40s, so he had all his best years ahead of him.
nza died suddenly the morning of October
,
, whenhe was justthirty-eight years old. The particular physicalcatastrophe responsible for silencing forever a voice judged“black and warm and dead on pitch,”
1p249
“a voice such as isheard only once in a hundred years,”
1p20
will never be known.What remains of Lanza’s medical record is far too meager toreveal the secret of his premature death, and an autopsy wasnot performed. All we know for certain is that his health wasalready unraveling when he entered the Valle Giulia Clinic onSeptember
,
, to rest and lose weight. The day beforehe died he was fit enough to sing “E lucevan le stelle” from
Tosca
for the clinic staff, and the next morning to conversewith his wife and his agent on the telephone. Shortly after thetelephone calls, he was found “reclining on the divan [in hisroom], motionless, extremely pale and with his head bent to
Perhaps I did. But in dissing a couple of Melanie Safka songs, I think I may have thrown the reborn baby out with the baptismal bath water. This is a really good song! I heard Nana Mouskouri sing it decades ago, but never thought to ask/find out who wrote it. We had no internet then, and to find anything like that out you had to grub around trying to read record labels in the dark, splashing wine all over them. So now, all these years later, it all joins up. It took me a few tries to find a version I really like (and I posted the Mouskouri one before deciding it was really too pretty for the Safka offbeat style/sardonic lyrics). The one you see most often on YouTube is a very early performance in which she sits alone onstage with her guitar, looking about 20 years old and frankly terrified. That one bothers me for reasons I can't articulate. She looks nervous and coughs, as if she'd rather not be there. I also found one from the Mike Douglas Show - why does that show now seem so utterly crass, while Dick Cavett is still semi-bearable? - but it struck me as over-produced, almost country-westernish, and the song got lost. But then I found this one. The words are all there, so I don't need to do any of those lame little things with lyrics and photos and gifs and PicMixes! But my life would be nothing without such sad little diversions. Such as this.
As with most of my posts, this one started off as something else: '60s phrases that are still in common useage today. This is unusual, given that by the '50s, most of the lingo from the '30s and '40s was kaput. Nor do we say "Daddy-o" or -. I cannot think of ONE more phrase from the 1950s still in use.
Likewise, the '70s: who remembers catch-phrases from that bland polyester era? All I can think of is "stayin' alive, stayin' alive," and that isn't really a catch-phrase at all.
But I do know that in the '70s, nobody said "23 skidoo". Nobody said "I love my wife, but oh you kid". And most especially, no one said that syllable that everyone used to preface EVERY sentence: "Saaaaaaaaaaay!"
Likewise, "I think you're swell". Or, "Are you sore at me?" Those phrases only exist in late-night movies on TCM.
But it never ceases to surprise me how often expressions from the 1960s still crop up in ordinary conversation, usually among people who didn't live through that memorably confused era. It was, shockingly, 50 years ago, and hanging on to catch-phrases like that never happens - never has before, and never will again. These are, in alphabetical order, as follows:
Boggles the mind
Blows my mind
Bummed out
Bummer
Do your own thing
Far out
Freak(ed) out
Freaky
Guilt trip
Hangup
Laid back
Lay a trip on
Mind-blowing
Mind-boggling
(not) my bag
(not) my thing
Oh wow!
Ripoff
Spaced out
Trip
Tripped out
Turned off/on
Uptight
Wiped out
Wired
Add your own, but these are the ones I skimmed off the top. Most of them are lame, and seem creaky and anachronistic, even inappropriate, in a setting like 2023 when most people aren't talking much at all any more (not even into their phones - they talk with their thumbs now, which is why we evolved with opposable thumbs to begin with). But still they pop up with alarming regularity, every day.
Having run out of ideas about this, I started thinking about related lame '60s things that somehow never go away. And oh boy, there are a lot.
Item: 1960s pop songs with unintelligible lyrics. I already covered the Dada-ist mishmash Nikki Hoeky in another post (and I don't want to go there again). In some cases, there is just ONE line you can't decipher, a line that drives you absolutely crazy and leads to one bizarre mondegreen after another.
Like so:
A Hard Day's Night
It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright
You know I work all day to get you money to buy you things
And it's worth it just to hear you say you're going to give me everything
(so what's the next line, what's the next line, what's the next line?)
So why on earth should I moan,
'cause when I get you alone
You know I feel OK
(etc. etc.)
OK, what did YOU think it was? It was just an unintelligible blob of words to me. I don't know if anyone got it. No one asked, because even then, nobody listened to the words anyway, until Bob Dylan came along.
She Loves You
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah
With a love like that
You know you should be glad
You know it's up to you
I think it's only fair
(next line, next line, next line)
Pride can hurt you too
Apologize to her
Because she loves you
And you know that can't be bad
Yes, she loves you
And you know you should be glad, ooh
That one, I thought, was "frighten her to do", which doesn't make much sense unless you take into account John Lennon's shocking possessiveness with women ("I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than see you with another man").
And then there are a few songs that are just plain stupid, that make NO sense or are so dumb we can't quite believe they made the Hit Parade.
Little Green Bag
Lookin' back on the track for a little green bag,
Got to find just the kind or I'm losin' my mind
Out of sight in the night out of sight in the day,
Lookin' back on the track gonna do it my way.
Lookin' for some happiness
But there is only loneliness to find
Jump to the left, turn to the right
Lookin' upstairs, lookin' behind!
Lookin' back on the track for a little little green bag,
Got to find just the kind or I'm losin' my mind,
Alright.
(Note: the rest is just endless repetition).
Little Black Egg
I don't care what they say
I'm gonna keep it anyway
I won't let them stretch their necks
To see my little black egg with the little white specks
I found it in a tree
Just the other day
And now it's mine, all mine
They won't take it away
Here comes Mary, here comes Lee
I'll bet what they want to see
I won't let them stretch their necks
To see my little black egg with the little white specks
Oh, goldurn, what can I do?
The little black egg's gonna tell on you
I won't let them stretch their necks
To see my little black egg with the little white specks
The little black egg... [repeat to fade]
The "little black egg". Right. Knowing the '60s, people probably argued all night long in an altered state of consciousness about "what does it mean?"
Beautiful People
Beautiful people
You live in the same world as I do
But somehow I never noticed
You before today
I'm ashamed to say
Beautiful people
We share the same back door
And it isn't right
We never met before
But then
We may never meet again
If I weren't afraid you'd laugh at me
I would run and take all your hands
And I'd gather everyone together for a day
And when we're gather'd
I'll pass buttons out that say
Beautiful people
Never have to be alone
'Cause there'll always be someone
With the same button on as you
Include him in everything you do.
Beautiful people
You ride the same subway
As I do every morning
That's got to tell you something
We've got so much in common
I go the same direction that you do
So if you take care of me
Maybe I'll take care of you
Beautiful people
You look like friends of mine
And it's about time
That someone said it here and now
I make a vow that some time, somehow
I'll have a meeting
Invite everyone you know
I'll pass out buttons for
The ones who come to show
Beautiful people
Never ever have to be alone
'Cause there'll always be someone
With the same button on as you
Include him in everything you do
He may be sitting right next to you
He may be a beautiful people too
And if you take care of him
Maybe he'll take care of you
'Cause all of the beautiful people do
And you're all beautiful people too
OK now, where do I start? It's just the general sappiness that I object to here. Melanie Safka DID have some good songs, I'm pretty fond of the "brand new rollerskates", Candles in the Rain was OK, and she wrote one - I just found out - called The Nickel Song that I heard Nana Mouskouri do decades ago, and loved. The lines that leap out and assault me are "'Cause there'll always be someone/With the same button on as you". I think of Eldridge Cleaver and "Kill All the White Men".
It's just that general, swampy, I-love-absolutely-everybody sentiment that sticks in my throat. "I'd gather everyone together for a day" for some reason reminds me of the afternoon I was held prisoner by some Jesus freaks in the 1970s. To this day I remember the mindlessness, the void I saw in their eyes, and I wonder whatever happened to them all. "Everyone" could include pimps, serial killers, Neo-Nazis, or . . . am I just too jaded by the horrors of 2016? No! This thing is DISGUSTINGLY naive! It's just. . .sorry, Melanie, I can't buy it. I don't have the same button on as you.
Any Guy
I was bored
I would not compromise
Wanted more
So I looked in your eyes
But it could have been any guy's
It could have been any guy's eyes
But your eyes were there
And they started to stare
But don't think that I care - No.
Now you got
The feeling you're great
'Cause we shared
A few looks
And I made one mistake
But it could have been any one
I was looking for that kind of fun
And you were right there
In love, all is fair
But don't think that I care
Now you got
A new friend I know
So I'm packing my things
And I'm going to go
Please don't make a scene
Don't cry
You can't stop me if you try
I love being free
It's the best way to be
Is she as pretty as me, huh?
Is she as pretty as me, huh?
Is she as pretty as me, huh?
Is she as pretty as me, huh-huh?
Is she as pretty as me, huh.
I included the whole lyric here because the ending is so obnoxious/nonsensical. I first heard Melanie perform this on The Mike Douglas Show, except that I didn't know it was Melanie because unless you read fan magazines, you didn't know what pop stars looked like, and I missed the introduction. It was the "huh, huh" stuff that drove me crazy, and the INTENSE way she did it. Before singing it, she explained to Mike that it was "kind of torchy". I didn't know what that meant.
ADDENDA. Hey, guess what! I found out some stuff here (on Wikipedia, so it MUST be right) that makes SOME sense of these lame lyrics. As with Nikki Hoeky, Little Green Bag might be a mixup in translation:
"Little Green Bag" is a 1969 song written by Dutch musicians Jan Visser and George Baker (born Hans Bouwens), and recorded by the George Baker Selection at the band's own expense. The track was released as the George Baker Selection's debut single by Dutch label, Negram, with the B-side being "Pretty Little Dreamer". The track's original title was "Little Greenback", in reference to the color of the US dollar. The first line of the lyric, "Lookin' back on the track for a little greenback", has three rhymes (underlined); "green bag" would not be a true rhyme. However, the single was given the erroneous title, "Little Green Bag", which some took to be a "bag of marijuana". The "Little Green Bag" title was then retained for all subsequently released versions of the single as well as the group's 1970 debut album, also titled Little Green Bag. This is an example of a mondegreen.
I realize this explanation is a lot longer than the song. Sorry. But if you want to prove this to yourself, just listen to the recording of The Little Green Bag. It's very plain he isn't saying "green bag" at all, but "greenback". The k sound is very distinct. But we don't hear it that way unless we're expecting to. Makes me wonder about all the other things we accept on faith, because everyone else is doing it, or because we've been told it's the way it is - even though "they" are plainly wrong.
The Little Black Egg "The Little Black Egg" is a song first performed by Daytona Beach, Florida garage band The Nightcrawlers in 1965. It was a minor hit in both the US and Canada, reaching number 85 on the US Billboard charts in 1967, while doing slightly better in Canada, where it hit number 74. The song has been since covered by multiple artists including Inner City Unit, The Lemonheads, Tarnation and The Cars. It was The Nightcrawlers' only hit, though many have claimed it was the first guitar riff they learned during the mid-'60s. The song was written in 1965 for an Easter concert, in which the band opened for The Beach Boys. Allmusic reviewer Matthew Greenwald describes the song as a "slightly bizarre nursery rhyme", with lyrics about a rotten bird's egg. Other explanations claim the song referenced miscegenation in segregated Florida.
Ohhhh. . . kay. "I found it in a tree, just the other day." Miscegenation. Sorry, guys, it just does not work.
I do remember my friend Carmen's mondegreen on this song, so potent that everyone in the schoolyard went around singing it wrong:
"To see my little black apron with the little white specks."
