The ever-amazing Joshua Burton calls my attention to this song from someone I’d never heard of before.

Did anyone mark the occasion when Tom Lehrer’s joke about Mozart reached a certain age?

Dave Langford heard from Tanaqui Weaver:

Slavishly imitating the title gadget of Jonathan Lethem’s Gun, With Occasional Music, there’s now an MP3 player (‘AK-MP3’) designed to fit the ammo clip slot of a Kalashnikov.

Later: T.Weaver explains, “Ananova’s Quirkies frequently brighten my day.”

I used to sneer at those so tone-deaf as to mistake the soundtrack of Conan the Barbarian (1982) for Carl Orff’s arrangement of the Carmina Burana. (Which, by the way, ought to be pronounced cármina, not carmîna.)

This last Frinight I was at the Paramount theater in Oakland to see Monty Python and the Holy Grail in a slightly longer edit than usual; and before it there was shown a trailer for Conan with, guess what, the Orff. I gather it’s common for movie trailers to be made before the feature’s soundtrack is complete, requiring the trailer’s music to be borrowed from elsewhere.

“I enjoyed hearing you whistle Mussorgsky just now.”
“Thanks! but it was meant to be Prokofiev.”

Alas, “The Complete Beavis and Butt-Head” (six DVDs) apparently includes none of the boys’ commentary on music videos. One understands the copyright problem, but gee whiz, that’s some of the best bits gone.

Swen quotes Phil Ochs’s “Love me, I’m a Liberal”, which reminds me of this from The National Lampoon’s White Album Gold Turkey: National Lampoon Radio Hour/Greatest Hits:

I wish I was a Negro, with lots of Negro soul,
so I could stay true to my ethnic roots and still play rock and roll.
If I was a funky Negro, eatin’ soul food barbecues,
I wouldn’t have to sing the middle class liberal Well-Intentioned Blues.

I wish I was an Indian, a grown-up Sioux papoose,
so when I get drunk on a beer and a half I have a good excuse.
I’d be a noble savage, wouldn’t ever wear no shoes,
and I wouldn’t have to sing the middle class liberal Well-Intentioned Blues.

I wish I was a wetback on a strike in a lettuce patch
or a slant-eyed peasant with Viet Cong stashed underneath my thatch.
I only ever cross a picket line to pay my union dues
to keep on singing the middle class liberal Well-Intentioned Blues.

But I am not a Negro (come on!), not a red man nor a Mex. (Join me, kids!)
I’m a member of the oppressing color, language, age and sex.
I sympathize with the Arab cause; I feel for the put-upon Jew.
And I keep singing —
the middle class liberal —
humanitarian —
meaningful dialogue —
we are all responsible Well-Intentioned Blues.

(And again I wish I knew how to display this with hanging indents.)