Friday, February 17, 2012

The Day the Music Died

A Requiem:

Consider this a "Poe Toaster" tribute.  You see there is a famous story in Baltimore (it's near to where I live) about a mysterious person who for each year over 70 years visited Edgar Allen Poe's grave in the early hours of the morning of Poe's birthday (January 19th).  This shadowy figure of the man dressed in black with a wide brimmed hat and white scarf would pour a glass of cognac and raise a toast to Poe's memory.  He would then leave the unfinished bottle of cognac along with three roses.  The "Poe Toaster's" last visit to the grave was in 2009 leading to speculation that he may have died.  Of course we may never know.  It is speculated that the original toaster passed the tradition on to a son.  But again, who knows.

That is kind of how I thought things would end for one of my favorite blogs.  One day he would just stop posting and for months or even perhaps for years we would wonder what happened to him.  Perhaps we would say he ran off with one of his ladies or dropped out and drove his muscle car off to Slab City or just decided to catch a tasty wave and surf off into the sunset.

But now he is in fact apparently gone and those of us left behind can only smile, remember him fondly, and lift a glass of cognac to his memory and say fair-the-well dear friend.

So this is for him!

A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That blog used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people read
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every posting I'd deliver
Bad sex on the doorstep
I couldn't write one more word
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his mistress left behind
But something touched me deep inside
**The day his blog died**

Bye, bye to your blog say I
Drove my Odyssey to the lobby but the motel was closed
Them good ole bloggers were writin' 'bout flirtin' and chasin'
Singin' this'll be the day I get caught
This'll be the day I get caught

Did you write the book of lust
And do you have faith in cyberspace
If AM tells you so?
Now do you believe in Ashley Madison?
Can blogging save your unfaithful soul?
And can you teach me how to screw real slow?

Well, he knows that you're in love with him
Cause he saw you text him in the gym
You both kicked off your clothes
Man, I dig those humps and throws
I was an over 40 undersexed punk
With 60 credits on a cheatin' site 
But I knew I was out of luck
The day his blog died
I started singin'

(Chorus - above)

Now, for eight days we've been on our own
And comments grow fat on a bloggers roll
But, that's not how it used to be
When Ryan sang for the Canine King
On a background he borrowed from a winery
And a voice that came from way down south
Oh and while the King was looking down
Someone stole his thorny crown
The blogosphere was adjourned
The top sex blogger won't return
And while he read a book on Open all the Way
SATS practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day his blog died
We were singin'


Hook ups, three-somes in a sexual swelter
The bloggers flew off with a blog closed message
Eight bites high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The playas tried to make a pass
With Ryan on the sidelines in a cast
Now the half-time air was sweet sex perfume
While sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to blog
Oh, but we never got the chance
Cause the playas tried to make a pass
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day his blog died?
We started singin'


Oh, and there we were all in one place
Bloggers lost in cyberspace
With no time left to start a post
So come on MILFS be nimble, MILFS be quick
MILFS can sit on my candlestick
Cause writin' is a bloggers only friend
And as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No blogger born on Google
Could break that Satan's spell
And as the words climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day his blog died
He was singin'


I still see him as Ricky N
I met a Kat who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and screwed JJ
I went down to my old G-mail
Where I'd read the posts years before
But the message said "blog has been removed"
And in the streets the followers screamed
The lovers cried, and the bloggers dreamed
But not a post was started
The goggle posts all were broken
And the two bloggers I admire most-
Mr Ozzy and Harriet and Holly most-
They caught the last train for the coast
The day his blog died
And they were singing


Btw you know the Father, Son, and Holy Fhost in the original song were Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper.  The day the music died was the day they all died in a plane crash in Iowa in February, 1959.


The King - Elvis
The Queen - Little Richard
The Jester - Bob Dylan
A Girl Who Sand the Blues - Janis Joplin
The Quartet - the Beatles (maybe the Rolling Stones)


Libidinous Man said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Libidinous Man said...

I too raise a glass to the granddaddy of infidelity bloggers, wherever he is.

Sara said...

I've been wondering what happened and I know we won't ever know. But I do know I'll miss his (and Ms. I, Holly and the others who disappeared so abruptly)words.

Pam P said...

that was absolutely a PERFECT way to say goodbye to an old hound dog...thank you for having way more talent than any of us who miss him. If he's reading this: we miss you rd.

Rosie said...

Thanks for the memories and the tribute for the Dog we all adored. You did the great job, Ryan. Hope he is ok.

whoresandhookers said...

I suspect we shall learn The Truth about dat Riff Dog someday...