Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's a pretty weird title, even for me, but I can explain.

No, I probably won't make you understand, or think me any less a weirdo from planet weird, but that's ok. Because I'm too cool to care baby! Too cool to care.

A few of you might have known that I took a little road trip the last few days with my cool girl, (as long as she's not jealous and pissed off) the knob goblin. The point of the trip wasn't to actually get anywhere so much as it was to just get away, and in that it was pretty successful and fun. We stayed in a couple of different hotels, one being a cheap, out of the way, Norman Bates type place where we registered under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Bush, and the other a bigger, better place with a heated pool, hot tub, and gym.

Both places also had cable, which brings me back to the Sanford and Son thing.



Let me just state here and now that I think Sanford and Son is brilliant, and that Red Foxx was a god among men. I always enjoyed the hell out of that show and still do. But the icing on the proverbial cake of cool, is the show's ultra funky, owns you fucking all, theme music. It's quite possibly the best tv theme ever, and anytime I hear it, I just go fucking insane with happiness.

I have given much thought as to why I enjoy the theme music so much, and have come to some conclusions, some of which are that the music is funky and upbeat, kind of funny, and creates nostalgia for fun memories of growing up. These thoughts may be all partly true, hell I know they are, but after careful consideration and deliberation I discovered why I really love the music so fucking much.

This is why...

The Sanford and Son Theme Song sounds like the ultimate old school porn music.

Think about it.

Watch the show.

Listen and try to tell me I'm wrong people, because you can't. Just can't do it. No way, no how.



So anyway, it was Saturday night, we'd had a fun day of running around, seeing some sights, and just being free to do whatever we wanted. I had been flipping around on the channels and saw that Sanford and Son was coming up soon, so a nasty little plan began to germinate inside the wicked gray matter of my cold and slushy brain.

The plan was simple.

All I had to do was fuck my girl while the glorious, porn-o-riffic S and S theme song played loudly in the background. This was my dream, my quest, my moment for glory. Would I be able to time it right? Would I be able to perform under this kind of pressure? Would the show be pre-empted for some local horseshit news story? Would there be a power outage?

I clenched my fists tightly with nervousness. My heart rate increased. I began to crave cigarettes, black tar heroin, and quaaludes, yet I do not do any of those things.

At long last, the time was at hand, and like the ultra smooth riverboat gambler that I am, I made my play. The goblin was on her hands and knees, I was behind her, arms raised triumphant like Rocky (except with a much bigger schlong), humping and bumping.



The music began to play.

And I was happy.

I was thrilled.

For this is the stuff that dreams are made of.

I've made it world. I've made it.

Epilogue...

A day after we got back, I downloaded and burned the S and S mp3 to a cd and had it sent to her, along with some roses. The note I place inside said two words...

"Poonami Wasabi"