bush approval rating Brain Farts Brain Fart brain farts brain fart brain-fart brain-farts brainfart brainfarts LEO Louisville Eccentric Observer parody lampoon satire Louisville Kentucky Kevin Gibson kgramone@aol.com kgramone humor cat's ass fart anna kournikova zeitgeist bush approval rating
Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.
Unless you're as bored as I am.
|
Brain Farts: I Wanna Be Well |
|
 |
By Kevin Gibson |
Life's
a gas. Or so Joey believed before the lymphatic cancer set in. Either way, he
was climbing the stairs to heaven now, feeling a little dejected. When Joey got
to the pearly gates (still wearing his black leather jacket and torn blue
jeans), he was quite surprised to find Brian Epstein waiting for him.
"Hey, man," Joey said, the streets of Queens, N.Y., dripping from his every
scratchy word. "What are you doing here?"
"Joey Ramone," Brian said. "We've been expecting you. You know, I could have
made your band the biggest ever." He paused, then smiled. "Well, almost."
"Man, I don't think so," Joey replied, missing the joke. He adjusted his round,
rose-colored glasses, which were shrouded in long black hair. "The Ramones led
an entire musical movement, basically created a whole new musical genre, and
what did we get for it? Twenty years of living out of suitcases and eating gas
station burritos."
Brian nodded.
"The Beatles could afford to quit touring," Joey continued, "but we couldn't,
'cause our records wouldn't sell. So we tried to make records everyone would
like, and then the critics, who loved us at first, called us sellouts. But we
still didn't sell anything!
"Then Green Day comes along and suddenly the music we pioneered is all over the
radio. But we're not getting any credit, and we're still not selling any albums.
Then someone nicknames us 'The Grandfathers of Punk.' Thanks a LOT. Sounds like
'washed up' to me."
"So what are you getting at, Joey?" Brian asked.
"I don't know, man. I hate to complain, 'cause we had great fans -- folks who
stuck by us for 20-plus years. But is there any justice in a world where one
band leads a revolution and then some Mickey Mouse outfit like Blink 182 reaps
the rewards?"
"Probably not," Brian said. "So are you angry that you died?"
"Naah," Joey said, suddenly revealing a jagged smile. "I mean, cancer ain't ever
cool, but I think I did about as much as I could do. And, hey, we did what we
did to bring rock 'n' roll back, not for money. I just wish more people would've
noticed."
"Well," Brian said, "on that note, the reason I'm here instead of St. Peter is
that I have someone who wants to meet you." He nodded toward the gate, where
John Lennon stood holding a Gibson J-160E guitar.
"Hey, Joey," John said, "I've been waiting for you. I have a great lyric here,
but I need a good melody to go with it. Can you help me?"
Joey turned to Brian and said, "Dude, this must be heaven."
Brian smiled and nodded. Joey followed John through the gate, where they
collaborated on Joey's first hit single. Keith Moon played the drums. Buddy
Holly produced. Then they all shared a six-pack and a pizza with extra cheese.
Life's a gas, man.
Dedicated to the legendary Joey Ramone (May 19, 1951-April 15, 2001). Rock in
peace, Joey.
Contact the writer at kgramone@aol.com. Be
gentle. He's in mourning.