All about them scales (parody lyrics)

 

I’ve always enjoyed parodizing things when I had a fun idea, so here’s another one based on “All About that Bass”

I’ve got more here and here.

 

Because you know I’m all about them scales
’bout them scales, no feathers
I’m all about them scales, ’bout them scales, no feathers
I’m all about them scales, ’bout them scales, no feathers
I’m all about them scales, ’bout them scales

Yeah, it’s pretty clear, I ain’t no cockatoo
But I can roar it, roar it like I’m suopposed to do
’cause I got that rough skin that all the birds miss
All the right claws and all the sharp teeth
I see the scientists, making up stuff and shit
We know that shit ain’t real
Come on now, make it stop
If you got teeth and claws just tear ’em up
‘Cause every scale of you is perfect
From the tail right to the top
Yeah, John Hammond he told me he spared no expense at all
He said, dinos don’t quack, chirp or produce some other bird calls
You know I won’t be no pigeon or stupid ass budgerigar
So if that’s what you’re into then go hug a mosasaur

Because you know I’m all about them scales…

sonnet 18 – Shall I compare thee to a pizza pie?

Inspired by the lovely and awesome and kind and funny and witty Jolene Haley

It’s kind of a hack job, but I’m reasonably happy with it, so without further ado about nothing… ;-)

 

Shall I compare thee to a pizza pie?
Thou art more sav’ry and delicious:
Hot oven bakes on temperature high
And pizza’s smell reminds to do the dishes.

Sometime too hot the peperoni burns
And often is its cheese complexion dark;
Yet for its taste my palate often yearns
Hunger, or everchanging app’tite, hark!

But thy eternal savor shall not wane,
Nor lose the toppings of the pie thou art
Nor shall thy dough be ever dry or plain
For ev’ryday you are lunch of my heart

So long as men can eat or nose can smell,
So long tastes this, and this gives taste to thee.

Olli the writer

First of all, sorry. I neglected my blogging duties far too…wait, does anyone even read these? Hello? Anybody out there?

Eh, whatever.

I stopped blogging regularly in September 2015. Which is weird, because there’s one blog post I actually wanted to do. I suppose I got caught up in stuff.1.

Many things happened. I did stuff, got to know awesome people, travelled some more2.

And, in September, I got published.

Here’s how it happened: Ages ago, I got inspired to write a story. I put it on my blog, asked people to read it, got some pretty nice feedback. Then I went on my infamous West Coast US vacation. On my first day I met up with Jennifer Brozek who I first met as a web comic character, then as a poster in a forum, then … well, things escalated and I think we’re friends now! :-D

We had dinner at the Space Needle, and as these things go, we chatted about writing. I mentioned the story and, guess what, Jennifer said: “Ooh, I think I remember that story. Is it the one where…?”
Me: “Yeeees?”
Jennifer: “Submit it. Maybe I’ll buy it.”
I submitted it when I returned and boom, a few month later I was a published author.

You can read “The Rescue” here.

Since then I’ve written two more stories inspired by various conversations, things and showers, and I’ve submitted both to various markets, with mixed success. I did get a few very encouraging personal rejections, and my writing got called “super super cute” among other things.

Since I’m not really a regular, an established writer or anything else but a hobbyist with a lack of discipline and a full time job, the rejections didn’t bother me that much, but I was kinda eager to get at least one of my stories, “Pads for his throne” out there.

Chance had it that I talked to Ivy Tara Blair, who loved the story and expressed interest in it.
She’s aweome. Get her audio books and listen to them. Special recommendation for A.K. Makansi’s “The Sowing”.

Anyway, that and the endless support and encouragement of other friends made me consider self-pubbing somewhere else than the blog.
I was hesitant, still am a little because it’s less than 4000 words. But one idea followed another, so here’s the current plan/status.

  • find editor, have story edited – CHECK
  • find illustrator and cover artist – in progress
  • create amazon author page – tbd
  • publish illustrated ebook – tbd
  • publish print-on-demand illustrated short story/coloring book – tbd
  • have audio book created – tbd
  • publish audio book – tbd
  • strike things of bucket list I never thought I’d do – tbd

 

Watch this space for news as events progress!

Footnotes
  1. lazy. I got lazy []
  2. yes, again! []

Haikurotica

A week ago I got a silly idea t work and I tweeted it. There’s not really any way to explain it without spoiling the fun, so here’s transcription of the tweets without the hashtags and stuff, I guess.

 

In my sensual dreams
I remove the outer shell
From your soft, sweet curves

Run my hungry tongue
Along the ridges and valleys
Of delighted flesh

Breathe your fragrance sweet
Soak it up into myself
Till I lose control

Nibbling at your skin
Digging deep with greedy tongue
In the wet inside

Ripping you apart
Piece by piece partake of you
Tear into your flesh

 

Oh man, I love oranges. Sure wish I had one right now.

https://storify.com/OlliCrusoe/haikurotica

Home in your dreams

This one came to me when Sara Amundson tweeted a pre-flash-fiction-reading selfie of her at home, stating that was “where the Murdercorn wig lives”.

It, quite obviously, can be sung1 to the tune of Home on the Range

Oh, give me a home where the Murdercorn roam
And the gore and the entrails, they spray
Where often is heard a bloodcurdling word
And the children cry out in dismay.


Chorus:

Hunt, hunt in your dreams
Where the gore and the entrails, they spray
Where often is heard a bloodcurdling word
And the children cry out in dismay.

The peace it was pressed from the place you get rest
It’s not likely it’ll ever return
To the dreams in your slumber where monsters now lumber
And everything to nightmares they turn.

Chorus
But don’t be afraid, someone comes to your aid
To put an end to the monsters you dream
They hunt the jabberwock all around the clock
To make sure the human race is safe.

Chorus

My brain works in mysterious ways.

What is that all about?

Well, Sara Amundson, the original Murdercorn and mother of monsters ((whom you should totally follow on twitter)) is working on publishing her Urban Fantasy trilogy Dreamer.
It’s all about monsters coming alive from nightmares. Some of those exist as flash fiction2 and some even as video readings.

You know the mother of dragons:

 

where are my dragons

But do you know the mother of monsters?

where are my monsters

Footnotes
  1. more or less []
  2. and you can totally request your own. I got one! []

Let it flow!

So I tried to pump out some parody lyrics for today’s blog. First I wanted to turn “Baby got Back” into something brass related. I like big brass and I cannot lie. But I don’t even like the song.

So I decided to fall on my backup plan. Turn “Let it go” into a pee-song.1

Halfway through I realized I wouldn’t even have to change that much and stopped. So have this bit and a few gifs.

The lake glows blue in the valley right,
Not a toilet to be seen.
No room of isolation,
and it looks like I’ll be seen
The flood is pressing like this qushing spring inside
Couldn’t hold it in;
Heaven knows I’ve tried

Don’t let them in,
don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel,
don’t let them know
Well now they know

Let it flow, let it flow
Can’t hold it back anymore

Let it flow, let it flow
Go right in and slam the door
I don’t care
what they’re going to say
Let the flood stream out
The wet never bothered me anyway

See?

Footnotes

  1. Yes, I’m immature. []

We are the Borg

There comes a time when we hear a certain call
When the ‘verse must come together as one
There are races trying
And its time to send the cubes to Earth

The greatest gift of all

We can’t go on pretending day by day
That someone, will soon make a change
We are all a part of a great Borg family
And the truth, you know,
Borg is all we need

We are the Borg, we are the Collective
We are the drones who make a brighter day
So lets assimilate
We will add all of your
Bio and techie
Distinctiveness to ours.
Adapt or die!

You have no choice, your culture will adapt
And you will service the Borg forever!
We will assimilate you, become one with us.
All resistance is futile in the end!

When you’re facing is, there is no hope at all
Buit if you do believe you can escape our grasp, wel wel wel well
Please do realize resistance is futile
So let’s stand together as one

WE ARE THE BORD! WE ARE THE COLLECTIVE!

All about low brass

I’ve been playing an instrument for 21 years now. The tuba. That leaves some room for ridicule, but then every musician makes jokes about the other instruments or sections.

What’s the difference between a brass orchestra and a bull?
The bull has the horns at the front and the asshole at the back.

There’s a fair amount of music puns going around in my twitter feed occasionally and innuendo does play a large role in that as well. You might have noticed. Or maybe not. Anyway, most of the following parody was concieved during and just before playing a sort of caroling concert at my home village just before Christmas. So there’s that. The original, pretty obviously, is Megan Trainor’s “All about that bass”. You may have heard it.

Because you know
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no trumpet
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no woodwind
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no drumset
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass

Yeah, it’s pretty deep, I play no dog whistle
But I can blow it, blow it
And you are gonna hear
’cause I got that volume that all the ears fear
And all the right valves in all the right places

I see the saxophone with all the fake shine
We know that brass ain’t real
C’mon admit it now
If you got real metal, just blow it loud
’cause every inch of it is shiny
From the mouthpiece to the bell

Yeah, my conducter told me to please play it quiet
I said I like a little more metal to sound out right
You know I don’t play no firewood squeaky ass clarinet
So if that’s what you wanna hear please get out of my way

Because you know
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no trumpet
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no woodwind
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass, no drumset
I’m all about low brass
’bout low brass
Hey!

I’m bringing tuba back
Go ahead and tell them squeaky flutists that
Now I’m here playing. I know you think you’re rad
But I’m here to show you
Every inch of it is metal from the mouthpiece to the bell

Yeah they did tell me an orchestra needs all kinds
They say without the other instruments it won’t sound right
You know I won’t play no wanna-be flugelhorn trumpet part
So if that’s what you wanna hear please get out of my way

Because you know
I’m all about low brass

 

Rudolph the Red Shirt Ensign

You know Savik and Chapel and McCoy and Spocky,
Sulu and Chekov , Uhura and Scotty,
But do you recall?
The most famous crewman of all?

Rudolph the red-shirt ensign
Had a very flashy shirt
And if you ever saw it
You would fear he’d bite the dirt
All of the other crewmen
Used to laugh and be right mean
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any away team

Then one boring mission brief,
Jim Kirk came to say,
Rudolph with your shirt so bright,
Won’t you lead my team tonight!

Then all the crewmen loved him,
And they shouted out with glee:
Rudolph the red-shirt ensign
You will soon be history!

 

Have a long and prosper Christmas!

All the right fur in all the right places

Because you know I’m all about that box,
‘Bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box

Yeah it’s pretty clear, I ain’t no LOLcat
But I can purr it, purr it like I’m supposed to do
‘Cause I got that meow meow that all the kits chase
All the right fur in all the right places

I see the videos with all them kittycats
We know that shit ain’t real
Come on meow, make it stop
If you got fluffy pawsies, just raise ’em up
‘Cause every inch of you is furry
From the bottom to the top
Yeah, my momma she told me don’t worry about your size
Sit in boxes you hardly fit into it just feels right
You know I won’t be no match-stick leg skinny-ass Greyhound dog,

So, if that’s what’s you’re into
I’ll stick my head inside a hole

Because you know I’m all about that box,
‘Bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box

I’m bringing cuddly back
Go ahead and tell them skinny kittens meow
No, I’m just purring I know you think I’m fat,
But I’m here to tell you that,
Every inch of me is furry from the bottom to the top
Yeah, my momma she told me don’t worry about your size
Sit in boxes you hardly fit into it just feels right
You know I won’t be no match-stick leg skinny-ass Greyhound dog,

So, if that’s what’s you’re into
I’ll stick my head inside a hole

Because you know I’m all about that box,
‘Bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box, no catbed
I’m all ’bout that box, ’bout that box

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