Feb 03 2009
The Muppets - Music, Mayhem, and More! (2002)
After college I didn’t know what to do with myself and decided to move to Florida and fulfill my childhood dream of working at Disney World. With me on the twenty-some hour long drive was my good friend Bob. We had initially bonded over shared love of punk rock and similar genres, ultimately playing a great number of those records at numerous parties that we threw. Surely most of those were repeated on our trip.
While I was driving somewhere in Kentucky or Tennessee (or somewhere below the Mason-Dixon line) he was flipping though my book of cds and came across The Muppets. It was one of those that I put in but did not expect to listen to. Bob was happy to come with on the trip but had a healthy dislike of Disney, and I suppose I had figured the Muppets into that as well. Much to my surprise he chose this record.
And so we drove, singing along to classic Muppets songs. I had never before known he had a fantastic Swedish Chef impression, and that of Sam Eagle as well. In the back seat was my cat, terrified of being in the car, curled up in his litter box, looking up at me saying, “Why are you singing? Get me the hell out of here.”
Movin’ right along in search of good times and good news, with good friends you can’t lose…this could become a habit…getting there is half the fun, come share it with me…
Please share your stories related to this record. Music is much more than notes on an album.
I remember the trip well and fondly. Indeed, the surrealism of much of that journey has not been equaled yet. The random hick bar, the massive turd Ash laid out of spite, the shower with water up to your ankles, and, perhaps most importantly, on Mr. James Stewart.
The stories are too much and too many to tell here, but I remember the album well. The key moment, I feel, was when Sweetums took up the jazz microphone for his immortal rendition of “Manamana.” Warms my heart more than the muggy haze that was Orlando ever could.
Ah, yes, I remember the trip well and fondly. The bar where we were accused of being gay (for each other), the shower that drained so slow the water was to your shins before you shampooed, the revenge turd that Ash left for us, and, of course, Mr. James Stewart.
The album was fantastic. The jewel of it, I feel, was Sweetum’s rendition of “Manamana.” The stuff dreams are made of. It warmed my heart far more than the muggy hellscape that was Orlando ever could.
ah yes, the celebrity lounge…i passed it several times after that, but i was afraid if i went back there would be no more T-rex arm laden bartendress. She made it for me.