Apr 26, 2025 but then there’s / Mozart

Apr 26, 2025        but then there’s / Mozart  

 

And (y)our man / Antony, belting out Leonard Cohen RIP’s ‘ If it be / Your Will ‘ at Cohen’s Celebration / of Life that four-lettered word of a concert as we call putting the ‘ fun ‘ in ‘ funerals’ these days, a stone-cold / classic and streaming music that five-lettered wordle compliments of YouTube Inc., as we do, putting the ‘ fun ‘ in ‘ funerals’ is all / we gots.  

 

Course though the Ceebs like all national broadcasters / streaming platforms gots to pay / the bills to keep the lights on too with these car (?! wtf, ‘(y)our only / chance for survival’, (y)our man Cin says it better to who(m)ever will / listen (no one / listens) before during and after this election season and every / other, ‘is to go to the Champlain bridge well, bridging Quebec and Ontariariariariariariarairiariario up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out in here, ‘and throw (y)our car keys into the Ottawa / river’ because carmaggadeon ) ads, there’s only so much Mozart’s Figaro / interrupted that (y)our man Cin the humble(d) narrator of (t)his Take This THing Back to Balti-memoires and but then / there’s Mozart can take - ‘but then’, (y)our (New)(wo)man Marion Newman the hostess with the mostest of today’s Ceebs’ radio edition of Saturday after before during and after it becomes Another Sadurday Night and I Ain’t Got Nobody (hooker please, -id.) at the Opera says it better before during and after one of the (several) breaks in the proceedings from the ‘live’ at some point Metropolitain Opera in New Jack City baby’s edition of Wolfie’s immor(t)al opera Figaro, and trying / to console the rest of us normies that we can audee and video works from (y)our (wo)men our favorite artists’ early days as we do before during and after they struck / it rich and console (y)ourselves with the fact that they too / sucked balls (that’s enough, -id.), ‘there’s / Mozart’, though Marion is gracious enough too to reference Amadeus’ helicopter papa driving Wolfie morning noon and night as we do to produce back when Wolfie was a little pup and tyke whose legs cinfamously didn’t reach down to the pedals of his piano that five-lettered wordle because the sins of the father - with Wolfie churning out stone-cold classics like this one back in the 18th like a cow churns out / butter at your farm Stella, innit Serge, course until then and before during and after the lean years and days and decades we console ourselves with the promise that ‘things are going to be smooth like / a rhapsody’, (y)our man Bob Dylan sings it better in his tune of the same name, ‘when I paint / my masterpiece’, (y)our only / chance for survival is all / we gots.

  

What it is in Figaro is that (y)our (wo)men the aristo protagonist(a)s of the same are after falling into and out of bed and love that four-lettered word (hooker please, -id.) with each other morning noon and night as we do because everything perfect in the(ir) world back in the 18th and what could possibly / go wrong, before during and after going / home to make the beast with two backs with each other as we do and then to belt out an arietta or seven about it as we do , ‘I can’t wait’ the elevenequarantween screamqueen  protagonista of Lloyd Koffman’s immor(t)al film Return to Nuke ‘Em High narrates it better in that film before during and after videeing her Nuke ‘ Em High School classmate’s head explode or rather ooze / to death becasue exposure to the the pile of chemical waste next door to the school as we do, ‘to go home and write about this in / my blog’, oozing is all / we gots.

 

Course god knows what the singers are after belting / out up on the Met stage in Italian (?) of (t)his Saturday after before during and after it becomes Another Sadurday Night and I Ain’t Got Nobody Saturday afternoon at the Opera edition, innit god (hooker please, -id.), but still and all the normally staid crowd in their penguin suits in the Lincoln Centre audience seems to be getting quite a kick out of Figaro , or anyway if the laughter and clapping that (y)our man Cin can audee but not videe up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up / in here - one of the most poignant and (s) / (b) / ( m) / (gl) addest afters of (t)his life so far and cameo up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on (t)his Dog-and-Pony show remains the halcyon pre-regime zero after that (y)our man Cin the humble(d) narrator of (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoires and Wolfie was after taking (y)our (wo)men the(ir) Ma and Pa Noslouc to the local cineplex to videe and audee both the live streaming audee and videe both edition of the Metropolitan Opera’s Saturday Afternoon at the Opera, the filmed edition, when of course in any fair world they should all have been attending the premiere in person because aristos  and New Jack City ‘my forever’ (y)our man Cin says it to who(m)ever will / listen, ‘home’, and that means forever - is any indication, between all of the costume changes and (y)our (wo)men the protagonist(a)s Pappagayo and Pappagaya cross-dressing and impersonating each other morning noon and night in the opera because horny / as goats, or anyway if the narrative of the opera spoon-fed to us as we do between the frequent breaks in / the action on-stage are accurate from what Cin remembers in what’s left / of (t)his mind because too many costume changes and cocaine (that’s enough, -id.) and ECT and EST, and we weren’t that bright, innit DD, to begin with, getting home to hulk-smash at about it in my (b) / © / (s) / (f) log is all / we gots.

 

A taxpayer knows that (s)he’s getting (b) / © / (t) / (g) / (s) and just plain / old before during and after (s)he’s after audeeing by choice - back in the day and upon the(ir) arrival in Luksvegas back in the 20th (damn near forty years ago!) up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up in here, (y)our man Cin and the rest of the Nosloucs could rely upon maybe five television stations to videe, compliments of that wild-looking antennae in the dog-pen section of the back yard that rotated when you adjusted it as we do, using the palm-sized antenna remote in the den, and the usual number of radio stations that could be found on that classic Sony radio (free ! flog forever because seemingly indestructible after all / these years, ‘still crazy’ (y)our man Paul Simon sings it better in his dirge of the same / name, ‘after all / these years’, innit Big Brett, and still present in the kitchen up out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up on out on up in here, and of course there were zero streaming options because the pre-internet years and decades and millenia before during and after it immediately soon became / the (sk)internet as we do (hooker please, -id.), ‘ I don’t want to be known only,’ you said it better and presciently as we do back in the 20^th, innit perfesser, ‘as the generation that invented / the internet.’

 

‘Do you know how many people I know in Santa Fe ?’, (y)our (wo)man the (s)mother-in-law character akses it better in the Coen brother’s film version of COrmac Macarty RIP’s immor(t)al novel No Country For Old Men and videed late-ish last TGIFFrdiay night, innit G of her taxi driver driving her and her daughter to the bus station in that scene and before during and after providing the answer to her own / question as we do and displaying the universal donut sign for ‘zero’ in the cab’s rear-view mirror for the driver and audience both / to see, ‘that’s how / many’  because Regime Zero - the Metropolatain Opera’s Saturday afternoon at the Opera live-streaming audee-only edition on the Ceebs of a Saturday after before during and after it becomes Another Sadurday Night and I AIn’t GOt Nobody (that’s enough wailing Papagano, -id.) but still / and all it’s hard not to love / opera that five-lettered wordle, the whole / world reduced to a stage and everyone belting it out and screaming at each other and sometimes even in a nice way morning noon and night because operatic and I want to know what love is, and providing as we do no end / of comic moments to boot, if the guffaws and ‘hear hears’ and ‘ encore, encore’s and bouquets / of flowers and panties and boxers tossed onto the stage by the appreciative aristo audience  at the Met appreciative of the eleven o’clock number or at least the sound effects to that effect are any cindication , zero is all / we gots.

 

Course (y)our man Cin the humble(d) narrator of (t)his Take THis THing Back to Balti-memoires and Salieri has been after (hardly) working on all kinds of different versions of the same because lazy that four-lettered word - ‘working hard ?’ the scumbag because (b) / (g) / old twenty-something diner eating at the film’s mall restaurant akses it better of the elevenquarantween server played by Jennifer Jason Leigh as an opening line and in the immor(t)al Amy Semerling film Fast TImes at Ridgemont High from back in the 20^th, and  before during and after the two later on make the beast with two / backs and she likely gets / pregnant because bathos that six-lettered wordler, ‘or hardly / working ? ‘ -  one of which is the opera version because fewer lines / to remember, and set as we do in the cubicombs at work that four-lettered word.  ‘TEAMS ?” begins and ends the operetta (hooker please, -id.) of the same name from Act Two of (t)his operatic  version of (t)his Take THis THing Back to Balti-moires and And Then There's Maud  - or rather the eleven o’clock number from Act Three more likely , ‘like a hockey game in the third period’, (y)our carney the unlikely current and likely future Prime Minister of (t)his country the right honourable Mark Carney managed to quip it better, elected overnight literally by his party to Prime Minister and like (y)our man Trumpy with no experience as a politician and what could go / wrong with putting a non-politician into power and strictly to battle (y)our man Trumpy the ‘hood wigga innit MB, or anyway he’ll get credit for regurgitating it / here, ‘it always gets more interesting in the third / act’ - and referencing as we do the Microsoft Inc. software application that served / its’ purpose back in the days of COVID that five-lettered abbreviation because live streaming audee and videe and all / that but which has surely now passed its’ best / before date because ‘I’m so sick’ (y)our (wo)man the(ir) Noslouc grand-daughter (wo)mansplained it better, ‘of ‘needles’, carneys is all / we gots.

 

‘TEAMS ?” the protagonist(a) of (t)his Take THis THing Back to Balti-moires and If It Be Your Will / the opera edition belts it back to one of (y)our (wo)men the antagonist(a)s of the same - one of the many many many (wo)managers serving as foils to (y)our (wo)man the protagonist(a) of the same because the cubicombs - and copyright-infringing surely and bad-mouthing gratuitously as we do a software application that has likely saved many more / lives and cubicombers’ (in)sanity than it has / caused because bizarre technology before during and after in the operetta’s eleven o’clock number, ‘I’ve been on better TEAMS / than this on our pre-kindergarten Rugby Club, and WE SUCKED’, before during and after going on and on and on in the TEAMS aria (hooker please, -id.) about how though (s)he ‘ loves / and hate / you all’ as the(ir) teammate e-mailed the rest of the team half-way through that other calamitous 2008 Rugby Club as adults season and the year of (y)our man Cin’s captaincy, ‘ and don’t take it the wrong / way, ‘ and here (y)our man Cin is still working on the libretto (that’s enough, -id.) for the punch - line, and how TEAMS invades our home-homes in disconcerting and surprising ways ‘but the last mother fuckers I want  to see in my home is you(r) avatars’, (y)our avatars is all / we gots. 

 

Thank you for reading (t)his Take This Thing Back to Balti-memoires and that’s where the light / gets in .