It's Friday, which means everyone wants to kick back and watch videos. Here at DarwinCatholic, we're always happy to provide some mind-numbing entertainment to go with the economic analysis and interminable posts about sex.
So first up, for Brandon and Matthew Lickona, the future of internet advertising is: CATS!
Pass me the Doritos.
Whenever I get a chance to catch up with my brother Will, we waste our valuable sibling time in syncing up on Saturday Night Live videos. Here's what we were laughing at the entire last week of December.
1920s Party
Darwin is probably going to throttle me if I say "Don't make me sing!" one more time.
And here's the sequel: 1920s Holiday Party
I love Jimmy Fallon when he can keep a straight face during a sketch.
Let's add some culture to the diet. Darwin and I saw the operetta The Merry Widow in Vienna when we were schlepping around Europe with backpacks. (I remember that we misread our tickets and sat in the wrong seats, and then it turned out that the right seats were high up in the very first box to the left of the stage and some of the action was cut off by the proscenium arch.) The production we saw was in German and set in the 1920s, and some of the action included characters rolling across the stage on wooden office chairs. We understood no German and the comic plot wasn't quite intelligible to us (though I do remember several characters exclaiming "Zwanzig millionen!", which referred to the amount of the widow's fortune).
The most memorable moment of the opera for me was the Vilja-lied, in which the merry widow sings of a legend from her native land about a man who falls in love with a nymph named Vilja. Here is Beverly Sills performing this aria very slowly but beautifully.
And this is what I sing to Diana now that she's learned to walk and is padding all around the house in her soft leather slippers: O Mistress Mine, where are you roaming? from Twelfth Night.
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers' meeting—
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,—
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
DARLING! I simply ADORE the "Don't make me sing!" character. Oh, don't make me do my impression of her!
ReplyDelete"I know when to come in. You don't have to tell me!"
ReplyDeleteUm, have you all forgotten New Orleans? Don't make ME sing. But I'm so tickled to have made a post, I may just have to...
ReplyDeleteI think "Don't Make Me Sing!" should become a stock feature around Korrektiv. Maybe a Friday thing. I liked that one time when we did a mail bag post on a Friday, too. Thought that could be a thing.
ReplyDeleteOh, pardon me, wrong combox. Well, Mrs. D. - and Mr. D., too, if he feels the spirit moving - is welcome to sing for us under faux duress at any time.
Matthew will compose one or two, and I'll sing, at the most, three, at the most.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if Darwin will be persuaded to sing, though he does a passable Irish shanty in the shower.
And in our recurring comedy feature, the above was, of course, me.
ReplyDeleteI actually have been playing around with some things inspired by listening to you sing. I hope I can manage something worthwhile.
ReplyDelete