SELECTRIC F-uneral
Darn those silly Bug-A-Ways! You send for ’em through the mail because they don’t sell ’em at Woolworth’s, ya plug ’em into the wall and that little red light comes on, they work fine for about a year or so, and then all of a sudden one day their warranty runs out and you get all kindsa gross creepy-crawlies with a squillion hairy appendages climbin’ up and down your plaster, and you have to squish ’em with your shoes and flush ’em down the toilet and, boy, does that ever make you mad!
SELECTRIC F-uneral
Chuck Eddy
Darn those silly Bug-A-Ways! You send for ’em through the mail because they don’t sell ’em at Woolworth’s, ya plug ’em into the wall and that little red light comes on, they work fine for about a year or so, and then all of a sudden one day their warranty runs out and you get all kindsa gross creepy-crawlies with a squillion hairy appendages climbin’ up and down your plaster, and you have to squish ’em with your shoes and flush ’em down the toilet and, boy, does that ever make you mad! What this has to do with the evenmore-fictitious-than-myself Rickie Johnson and his R.E.M. Speedwaggle fixation is way beyond me, and what it has to do with the Selectric Funeralizations of every last mortal soul on the planet Pluto is also kinda hazy, but it’s important and it had to be said. (But then again, that stud Gary Richrath sure does “rock” on that new Speedwaggle LP, don’t he, Rickie? I mean, what do you think those Champaign chumps mean by “Variety Tonight?” Not both cole slaw and tossed salad, I don’t think.. .)