where is bruce willis when you need him?

well, it's finally happened. i knew it would, but i didn't think it would be today. i mean really, who plans for armageddon to show up on a friday, mid october? i didn't. i'm not dressed for this.

anyway, it's true. the world is coming to an end. and like mama always said it would be, apparently it's my fault.

now y'all know i *try* so very hard to control my sailor mouth (if by try so very hard i mean: sometimes try and get drunk just to see what it'll do next) but occasionally i just have to let the words out.

or they might manifest themselves in other ways.

what happened is this: this morning, as i was singing joyously along to the rockabilly stylings of Supreme and All Powerful Choir Leader, i came across a measure of music that seemed, well, wrong.

very very wrong.

now this song we're singing, it's a doozie (hehe.) it was written by He of the Sequined Jumpsuit and also of The Only Cool Moustache Ever, the even more supreme and all powerful Freddie Mercury.

i think this outfit is meant to draw our eyes down...


anyway, we're singing "crazy little thing called love." which is yay! great!

but we're singing the dwight yoakum version. which is boo. not great.

any one who knows choral music knows that it is essentially written to remove every last ounce of cool from songs by sanitizing the lyrics (in this case, the incredibly naughty "cold sweat" changed to "cool sweat") and through the insertion of ridiculous exclamations, usually at the end, in the form of some overzealous jazz-handed "yeah!"s.

but this is far more heinous, and you will understand why i could not hold my tongue.

there is a line in this song that goes "take a long ride on my motorbike." harmless, no? until the females, alto and soprano alike, are required to exclaim "whew!" at the end, like this motorbike is (capital-T) Thrilling and someone better fetch us our fainting couches. i do not even know how to pronound this "word." is it phew? woo? wa-hew?

now i realize that choral music is designed to make us all into mormons (and or steak house waitresses), as evidenced by the type of outfits sold to choirs and choruses (is this a word?) all over, but "whew?"

not in my backyard, utensils. go back to china.

and it has since been brought to my attention (by more than one oddly angered individual) that my reaction to this exclamation was regarded as immature. that i should trust in the leadership of His Supreme and All Powerful Choir Leaderness.

because surely i couldn't have been joking.

so i suggest the getting out of the tinfoil hats and the going into the leftover WWII shelters, because my mouth has finally done it.

the sky is falling.