When There's No One Else To Blame

It's Probably That Dude In The Mirror

I tried to keep things lighthearted and nonchalant, but Zibig still figured it out during a phone call this afternoon. Part of the problem of hanging out with a guy for the better part of a quarter-century is he tends to pick up on your moods no matter how good an actor you think you are.

Truth is, I'm not very happy at the moment. It's not important why. It's one of those things that was inevitable. In fact, I'm sort of surprised it took as long as it did. Nevertheless, no matter how much you think you're beyond something, some things can still slip in under your armor and stick ya pretty good. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

So... Now is the time on Baboon Pirates when we dance! I give you, via the genius of Tom Lehrer, the song for today's self-flagellating mood:

The Masochism Tango

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

Let our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

At your command
Before you here I stand,
My heart is in my hand...
Yeech!
It's here that I must be.

My heart entreats,
Just hear those savage beats,
And go put on your cleats
And come and trample me.

Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany,
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony.
My soul is on fire,
It's aflame with desire,
Which is why I perspire when we tango.

You caught my nose
In your left castanet, love,
I can feel the pain yet, love,
Ev'ry time I hear drums.

And I envy the rose
That you held in your teeth, love,
With the thorns underneath, love,
Sticking into your gums.

Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches.
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash
That you made with your lash,
As we danced to the Masochism Tango.

Bash in my brain,
And make me scream with pain,
Then kick me once again,
And say we'll never part.

I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, darling, if you smell
Something burning, it's my heart... [hiccup]
'Scuse me!

Take your cigarette from its holder,
And burn your initials in my shoulder.
Fracture my spine,
And swear that you're mine,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.