Friday, July 31, 2009

A Royal Rumble WIth Mike Tyson And The BeeGees

The morning cried at precisely 5:54 a.m., when I was awoken by the sound of screaming. The two most likely 'victim-culprits', my stomach and my neighbour, were exonerated as it was neither. In fact, it was an eagle in my pine tree that was squealing like train brakes.

Eagles are a study in contrasts. They're huge, as they should be as the undisputed heavyweight champs of the feathered food chain. They've got massive talons, so big that they can pick up a Smart Car and fly three hundred yards with it (in a headwind, no less). Their razor sharp beaks can devour a salmon in seconds, faster than Oprah can pick apart an Easter ham. They are one impressive creature, until they open their pickerel pie holes and say something.

When you give it a lot of thought, as I have, eagles are a lot like former boxer turned documentary subject, Mike Tyson. Mike is a killing machine...big, menacing and full of ring rage, but when he speaks he sounds like the squeaky voiced teen-aged drive-thru burger jockey on The Simpsons...

Would you like French Fries with your order, sir?

Mike, in his fighting days was all piss and vinegar, though tempered by his cream soda voice. I've heard him recently and his voice has changed quite a bit. His voice has finally caught up with his physical appearance. It's no longer a case of 'float like a butterfly, sing like a Bee Gee'.

When the feeling's gone and you can't go on,
It's tragedy.
When the morning cries and you don't know why,
It's hard to bear.

Yes Barry, Maurice (R.I.P.) and Robin, it's hard to bear. I've been TKOed by your videos. Those white pants gotta go, Barry, though not in a literal sense.

So, who would I rather go twelve rounds with, one Mike Tyson or all of the Bee Gees? In either case, I'd lose an ear or two. Against Tyson, my ears would be nibbled away as a round one appetizer. In round two Mike would likely tear my head off and eat it. Against the Bee Gees, I'd cut my own ears off. Without the distraction of their Elmoesque voices I'd be able to concentrate on pummeling them. Only two of the three original Bee Gees remain, and if they fought fairly, by that I mean no pinching or scratching, I'm pretty sure that I'd be the one stayin' alive in the ring.
For all my joking, I'll give the Bee Gees credit for being good singers, at least using their soaring falsetto voices to rise about the petty critics (people like me). I'll never be man enough to forgive them for their wardrobe choices, however, but they're in good company with other fashion faux pas personalities: Cher, Don Cherry, and Elsie Wayne come to mind.

(pause for bathroom break)

DEAR GOD! I just looked in my bathroom mirror...big mistake. My hair looks like Barry Gibb's on a windy day and I've got a wispy four day beard on my face. I'm turning into a Bee Gee!

Don't believe me? If you can't see it in my looks....well, you can tell by the way I walk.

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