Another week, another jazz mixtape from the Seattle Star.
I like to sleep until the crack of noon, midnight howlin’ at the moon — goin’ out when I wanna,
comin’ home when I please. I
don’t have to ask permission if I wanna read the Comics. Never have to ask for the keys.
Our publisher man was so excited by the first one he brings you another all-Creative Commons jazz mix for your week.
Reading Sunday Comics, smoking rat weed…Well, you reap what you sow when you plant the seed. Bum cheese on rye with ham and prosciutto, got more Louie than Phillip Rizzuto. What goes around comes around–
We continue our Free Things by poring over those highly overrated Shakespeare sonnets and wishing they were shorter and made sense like this.
Know your rights! Number 1:
You have the right not to be killed. Murder is a crime, unless it is done by a policeman
or an aristocrat. Number 2:
You have the right to Sunday Comics.
You’ve got a little worry, I know it all too well. I’ve got your Sunday Comics, but so does every kiss and tell who dares to cross your threshold, or happens on your way. Stop laying blame, you know that’s not my thing.
Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom, Brando, “The King and I” and “The Catcher in the Rye.” Eisenhower, vaccine, England’s got a new queen
Marciano, Liberace, Sunday Comics, goodbye. We didn’t start the fire…
Now I laugh and make a fortune, ‘cuz the Comics are on Sunday
and a world screams, “Kiss me, Son of God!”
Now, I can order in Latin: “make ’em au gratin, Joe!” I’m an old altar boy, that’s why I’m so depressed — I never got to read the Comics on Sunday. Now I’m habitual, majoring in crimes that are unspeakable.