-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- ~1KW Robert Hettinga Yellow Snowe October 14, 2009; Anguilla, BWI <http://blogs.abcnews.com/theworldnewser/2009/10/exclusive-charlie-gibsons- interview-with-sen-olympia-snowe.html> "Yellow Snowe" is what a caller called US Senator Olympia Snowe (R, Maine) on yesterday's Howie Carr show <http://wrko.com/howie> yesterday after a hindsight-expected defection on The US Senate's "healthcare" (Marxist loan-word) "reform" (Billy Bulger's favorite punchline) bill (you can say *that* again). Like "Jumpin' Jim Jeffords", the sobrequet might actually stick. Meanwhile, all I could hear was a Frank Zappa song: <http://www.mp3lyrics.org/f/frank-zappa/dont-eat-the-yellow-snow/> Dreamed I was an Eskimo (Bop-bop ta-da-da bop-bop Ta-da-da) Frozen wind began to blow (Bop-bop ta-da-da bop-bop Ta-da-da) And my momma cried: Boo-a-hoo hoo-ooo And my momma cried: Nanook-a, no no (no no . . . ) Nanook-a, no no (no no . . . ) Don't be a naughty Eskimo-wo-oh (Bop-bop ta-da-da bop-bop Ta-da-da) WATCH OUT WHERE THE HUSKIES GO AND DON'T YOU EAT THAT YELLOW SNOW WATCH OUT WHERE THE HUSKIES GO AND DON'T YOU EAT THAT YELLOW SNOW Right about that time, people A fur trapper, who was strictly from commercial (Strictly commercial) Had the unmitigated audacity to jump up from behind my ig-a-loo (Peek-a-boo -ooh -ooh oooh) And he started in to whippin on my favorite baby seal With a lead-filled snow shoe That got me just about as evil as an eskimo boy can be So I bent down and I reached down and I swooped down And I gathered up a generous mitten full of the deadly (Yellow Snow) The deadly yellow snow, from right there where the huskies go Whereupon I proceeded to take that mitten full of the deadly yellow snow crystals and rub it all into his beady little eyes with a vigoruos circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area But destined to take the place of the mudshark in your Mythology Here it goes ... the circular motion Rub it And then, in a fit of anger, I pounced And I pounced again Great Googly Moogly And he was very upset as you can understand And rightly so because the deadly yellow snow crystals had deprived him of his sight And he stood up, and he looked around and he said: Oh (oh oh oh) No - - I can't see .. (echo) He took a dog doo snow cone and stuffed it in my right eye He took a dog doo snow cone and stuffed it in my other eye And the husky wee-wee I mean the doggy wee-wee has blinded me And I can't see - temporarily When I first heard this epic of scatology -- if not necessarily eminentized escatology -- I lived in Anchorage, and I was thirteen or fourteen years old. As the proud owner of a St. Bernard-Malamute bitch (cleverly) named Brandy, I knew exactly what yellow snow was, not to mention dog doo snowcones, and this song immediately became, even more than Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", or, better, "Black Sabbath" itself, but possibly excepting Led Zepplin's "Black Dog", my Favorite Song In The Whole Universe. The Work of A True Genius. (And, as everyone in the world knows nowadays, if you didn't think that the late Frank Zappa Really Was A True Genius, all you had to do was to go ask Frank, if he'd talk to you, and he'd tell you his ownself.) Anyway, being thirteen or something, I had No Idea, Back Then, Exactly Who Frank Zappa Really Was. [Or who, for that matter, a more famous sample of the 20-some-odd musicians on "Yellow Snow" were, 'cause they weren't famous yet, really: John Guerin (drums), soon to be Mr. Joni Mitchell; Aynsley Dunbar (drums), King Crimson, Journey when they almost didn't suck, Jefferson Starship when they actually did, and, um, Whitesnake, aka Where Jon Lord Went To Die; Jack Bruce (bass) Jimi. 'nuff said; George Duke (keyboards, background vocals), a guy who publically trashed a guy I knew's band named, appropriately, No Commercial Potential, something which could frequently be said for Mr. Duke himself, genius or not; or Jean-Luc Ponty (violin), not infrequently confused with Jan *Hammer* (synthesizer), of Jeff Beck (guitar) in *his* Fiddly-Diddly Fusion Phase, or more likely the very author of same -- Hammer, not Ponty, that is, much less Beck, neither of which were on "Yellow Snow", Hammer or Beck, though it would have *really* been cool if they had, when I was thirteen or something; among many other Artists of Genius, Because Frank Freakin' Zappa Said They Were, Dammit.] But, I thought, after hearing "Yellow Snow", and furtively listening to most of "Apostrophe", the album where Yellow Snow resided -- during the odd visit to the Montgomery Ward record-listening booth while my father, a charter member of the El Paso John Birch Society whose kid damn well wasn't gonna buy no commie filth from some maggot-encrusted piece of zircon named "Zappa", was buying a drill-bit, or something -- Frank Zappa was a genius on the order of Spike Jones. If I had, at the time, known, you know, who, Spike Jones, um, actually *was*... Which brings us back to that miserable excrescence on the Maine snowscape that is the Olympian RINO Named Snowe. No. Really. I'm getting there. Stick with me here, and watch where you step. Because, sooner or later, we all grow up. Except, apparently, in that High Chamber of Infantilism that is the United States Senate. Oly Snowe, if I may call her that -- in honor of another fine nickname from my Anchorage days, with fond memories spent picking up cast-off spit-remaindered but as yet-unbroken Olympia beer bottles on Fourth Avenue, looking for the magical four dots on lable backs, which were said, among the Junior-Hi cognescenti, to entitle one to the services of a prostitute, gratis, in all the finer massage parlors which fairly upholstered Anchorage at the time of the pipeline boom. Oly the beer, not the prostitute. Except, now that I think of it, getting "healthcare" (marxist loan word) in the United States soon *will* be not too much different from picking up cast-off spit-remaindered but as yet-unbroken Olympia beer bottles on Fourth Avenue in hopes of receiving freebies from a pipeline-era prostitute. Besides, I can't call someone a prostitute if they really aren't, even if it's really redundant to call a Senator a prostitute. Much less to even call a U.S. Senator um, beer. Or, I suppose, come to think of it, even excrescence. British overseas territory libel laws, you see. Ask Don Mitchell about that sometime. Well, damn. I suppose I can't very well insult the United States Senate, then, can I? Can I even call Oly ("What *were* you drinking") Snowe a Republican in Name Only? Her comments about "the party left me", notwithstanding? Or even have opinions about dead rock-stars and their personnel, famous or not, -- late or not? How about opinions about my father? Or my dead father's opinions about a dead rock-star? Can they sue each other? Are they anywhere, now, that they can actually *sue* each other? Both were atheists, BTW, not to insult Athiests, or the John Birch Society, or even Eskimos, which is not, apparently, the politically correct name for them anymore. Except in Alaska, apparently, Canada being much more progressive about these things, you see. Or even the use of politically incorrect stereotypical humor about igloos or Eskimos ("Eskimo" being my ninth-grade nickname upon returning to "the Lower 48", as they call the contiguous US states, even now, in Alaska; speaking of stereotypical humor about Alaskans, former, "Rogue", or otherwise...) Oh, well. At least the opinion about Oly ("Not the Beer, Certainly Not the Prostitute") Snowe being "Yellow", wasn't mine. So, I can say *that*, right? This thing on? Cheers, RAH -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 10.0.0.2489 wsBVAwUBStX8AsUCGwxmWcHhAQHmXAf/W0QcD1VP3HoCaWUSewjA7NkiXnrvEYD0 h1spP7H+yVhjL/09I0NBNgW8RmmzNctS66HepgcRrRxeyWgPRnkg3DEEa7la4P+B ed2aWipn681C9y0JJMCDQWLvQMz1Ok0YrGMZygs0G0eNW43LTRYp42QSsN2Wx/0l NAAxiNHSYPn15ezokWU+sgPf3R1v0jFGUflFqcMPirZmQGm/hmyjx8CK562lg1c2 pBO8yEVv+4hSKLW2FPKVzT83rlqLY+SJ9s+RELskVEhE7RAw1iAuf4lSxpgagu0o Py2esA6Kf7oBS63qVFLKG6ZZ1LwTcV5neAts3BFdmtYDHhdUwKnAnw== =eCbB -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----