Skip to main content
Those crazy slap-sticky guys--The Banana Splits.
The song, as noted by Sassy.

Comments

dive said…
Woohoo! Now you're talking!
Tha Banana Splits were AWESOME!
I've got a punk version of their theme tune done by the Dickies (on yellow vinyl of course).
Snorky was my favourite (as far as I can remember).
And what on earth was going on with those Sour Grapes girls?
Sassy Sundry said…
Woohoo from me too!

I have a version by Liz Phair, before her sad decline.

Sigh. Those were the days.
Scout said…
I always thought of The Banana Splits and overstuffed versions of The Monkees. They were both extremely manic and nonsensical.

I loved The Monkees! especially Mike Nesmith.
Sassy Sundry said…
He's a jerk, I'm afraid. A friend of mine interviewed him.
Scout said…
A jerk, eh? Well, that's OK. It was his screen persona I was drawn to anyway. And the knit cap.
Sassy Sundry said…
The knit cap was cute.
Nope sorry these guys drove me insane. Just the mention of them brings back the stupid song to my mind. I'm thinking of the right one, yes? Oh no please don't sing it.
Sassy Sundry said…
There is something that the Monkees did that is worth seeing, "Head." They made this razor-sharp flick lampooning themselves. It's amazing. Really. I think Netflix has it.

But Nesmith is still an ass.
So we know sassy does not care for Mike Nesmith. He's an old fart now anyway.

The monkey remind me of getting my tonsils out. My sisters were playing there 45"s over and over and over when I came home from the hospital. So take the last train to clarksville baby!!

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...

My Sitemeter is All Bloated and Not Quite Itself

I'm tempted to let it sit on the couch with its feet curled up under a blanket, a hot cup of coffee in hand, a block of cherry almond bark Chocolove within reach, and An Affair to Remember spinning in the DVD player. I'm one of those obsessive bloggers, the kind who checks her sitemeter as often as possible throughout the day, the kind who gauges the quality of her writing by the number of readers who regularly stop by. I've become less interested in the overall number of hits and more interested in the number of repeat hits. The return visitors are the ones I long for. When my sitemeter reads forty at the end of the day, and the majority of those hits are webpals who have conversed, I'm happy. Forty may seem low to many of you, but I've only been at this since August. To me, forty is a jackpot. A few days ago, I sat down at my laptop and discovered a number somewhere in the eighties. Eighties! Yippee! Yeeha ! Hoo-rah ! I've been discovered by the webworld , o...