This is a cover of a Tom Waits composition. My ability to recite it was used as a sobriety test one time for two young women who couldn’t decide whether or not to call 911 to help revive me.
posted by Fang Bastardson at 11:34 PM
Born in the wild to Canadian Timberwolves, Fang was wrestled from his mother's teat at an early age and placed in the custody of a government sponsored think tank in New York City. He escaped at age seven by gnawing off a doo-claw and has been riding a wave of self-righteous indignation to Nowheresville, baby, ever since. He is currently enjoying being a PhD (by marriage), but on the advice of his attorney has refused all comment except to assert an apparently deeply-held conviction that frozen strawberries should be thawed, not microwaved.
1 Comments:
Severely creepy - well executed. I especially love that Tom is looking over your shoulder the entire time.
9:55 AM
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