As the young become less young, they'll go after sacreder cows and demonstrate a keener sense of irony, as with this song which spans a gap between the innocent pleasures of a favorite holiday that they may have enjoyed for as many years as they can remember, and the cynicism of the adult world of advertising, image making and fun-produced-for-profit (the original song about the reindeer was written by Johnny Marks, at the request of brother-in-law Richard May, who wrote the original story about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer as an Xmas promo booklet for the department store chain Montgomery Ward, which recently went bankrupt):
Rudolph the red-nosed Cowboy
Had a very shiny gun,
And if you ever saw it,
You would turn around and run.
All of the other cowboys
Used to laugh and call him names,
They would never let poor Rudolph
Join in any cowboy games.
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
The sheriff came to say,
"Rudolph with your gun so bright,
Won't you shoot my wife tonight?"
And then how the cowboys loved him
As they shouted out with glee,
"Rudolph the red-nosed cowboy,
You'll go down his history!"
Of course the media and the realm of product advertising offers up a constant selection of jingles veritably ready-made for ... amusing improvement. Some version of this one will be familiar to many:
Comet, it tastes like gasoline.
Comet, it makes your teeth turn green.
Comet, it makes you vomit,
So get some Comet and vomit toda-a-ay!
Here's a variant:
Comet, it makes your teeth turn red.
Comet, it makes you wet your bed.
Comet, it will make you vomit,
So buy some Comet and vomit today.
Children, just like adults, have shared, do share, and will forever continue to share the same curiosities and questions which define us as alert and therefore also scared and uniquely communicative entities. Two of our most profound concerns have to do with death and — no, not taxes, but — sex. Here is a ditty I learned and shared when I was ten years old:
Hello, this is Kohler's mortuary
You stab 'em, we slab 'em,
The good ones go to heaven
The bad ones go to ...
Hello, this is Kohler's mortuary
You stab 'em, we slab 'em,
The good ones go to heaven
The bad ones go to ...
Hello, this is....
The young are forever trying to learn about sex — what it is and what exactly it entails — just as adults are forever trying to learn more about sex — what more it can be and how much else it might entail....
Sex, sex, sex
Is the law, law, law
When a guy gets a girl
On the floor, floor, floor.
He sticks his information
In the girl's communication
Which increases the population
Of the younger generation.
Would you like a demonstration?
And a variant:
A boy's preoccupation
Is to stick his inflammation
Between a girl's separation
To increase the population
Of the younger generation.
Do you want a demonstration?
And so we blab, and enjoy being blabbed to. It is part of how we "live and learn" and test the information we receive against the credulity of those around us. Believe it or not, this continually sharpens our survival skills in a complex world. And if you don't believe that, then you are just too orange for me to know what to do with.
