Monday, May 4, 2015

Jimmy Dean makes a mean sausage

Some mornings I wake up with only a song in my head and no idea what the hell I am going to write here. This morning I woke up singing the chorus to this classic ditty:

Beyond that I cannot really think of words to put down in this space.

You ever get a song stuck in your head and wonder, why the hell do I even know that song? That's how I felt when I realized I was singing the chorus to Billy The Kid in my head. I actually had to listen to the verses because I only know a line or two from the chorus. I had NO IDEA who sang it. Still don't know who the hell Dean is or anything else he sings. And I still have no clue how that particular song got into my memory bank in the first place.

But I do know why the chorus popped into my head this morning.

I wonder what Dean Cain is doing these days. Poor little Superman can't seem to get work. At least, not work I would care to see.

I like to play the Dean Martin slot machine when I'm in Vegas. It just feels right. Usually I lose on it, but sometimes I win big and get to hear Dean-o singing Go, go, go, go, don't stop! and that sets me bebopping as my pennies rack up.

But still, there is no Dean like James Dean. Even dead he is the coolest guy in the room. I want to be that cool one day.

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