Bacon On Demand (the Breakfast Jam)

Woke up this morning with a bacon rap in my head... 

Double double B, hold the L and the T
throw in some mayo and give it to me.
Bacon on a bun, cuz that's how I roll
crumble it on cereal and eat it from a bowl.

When I eat eggs, the bacon rides shotgun
don't offer me bacon, friend? I'll say you're not one.
Every now and then, I have a chance meeting
bacon, eggs and pancakes for some secret eating.
Jelly jam on toast is another bacon friend
sausage is a clown, breakfast make-believe pretend.

When you make the bacon make it orange and crispy
that soggy floppy bacon is just gonna sicken me.
Bacon is so nice, it's my special breakfast treat
but now it's time for lunch so why doncha have a seat.

My friends tried to stop me, they said I look palid
but I snuck away for a bacon cobb salad.
Bacon on some bread makes your sad sandwich happy
bacon in my pockets please somebody slap me!

Bacon in the tank of my motorcycle
bacon in a public bathroom with George Michael.
Bacon with your lunch will only get you thinner
but it's getting late, bacon's what's for dinner.

Bacon on a plate, when you're all alone
bacon party over hear, bacon on the telephone.
Bacon mayo cheese, on a hamburger sandwich
gotta get a grip because I just can't handle this.

Bacon after dark gives me so much power
I meet my bacon friends for the witching hour.
Ever kill a man for the flavor of bacon?
Front door's locked so I say just break in.
When I'm in you're home, I've got bacon on my mind
rummage through your fridgeridge to see what I can find.
And when I've found some bacon worth takin'
I put it in my mouth and I pray to Kevin Bacon.

Bacon is a friend to all the forest creatures
all the city folk and the backwoods preachers.
Bacon on a finger, bacon on a fork
bacon for desert, crispy crackly ice cream pork.
Have it only on the weekend, well that just seems silly.
Bacon eatin' every day until the day it kills me!

Hard Luck in Waterbury

Another weird weekend - on the set of Hard Luck with a Hip Hop guru from Hollis, Queens...

The city of Waterbury is architecturally immune to snow removal, or at least negligent. Cars moved at unnatural angles with no traction to speak of. Pedestrians, overwrought with emotion, unable to identify snowed-over landmarks or read street names threw themselves into oncoming traffic. Bums foraged for warmth, the wind having blown away their newspaper blankets. Nine AM on a Saturday, this city of filth looked strangely clean... quiet.

Inside the Palace Theater, it was another situation altogether. From the street, it looked empty - but walking through the front doors, something was happening. Lights everywhere, casually dressed people behaving professionally. Men in evening wear and out-of-context hats posed for the enormous production camera which shot dramatically up - from the floor. All this against the backdrop of a long-gone style and glory - the Palace. A fitting name for such a place of carved wood and high-gloss marble - a gold tooth in the ghetto.

Later, shots would ring out in a suburban basement, there would be blood everywhere, the hum of a snow blower and the banal bark of a foamed-mouth dog would elicit murderous rage and contemplations of poisoning from even the most mild and stable of us as we sat in the kitchen and tried not to move or talk... But there in the Palace Theater, all was smooth and easy.