A BED LIKE SALMON

and the tragic downfall of Weird Al

This and more in this week’s edition of HarperTheFox news.

BUTT FIRST!

This week I wrote a parody that I will every so humbly say is a masterful piece of genius rivaling the great poetic works of history.

The song is called “Gooner’s Paradise” and is a fucking EXACT parody of “Gangstas Paradise.” It turns out that writing rap is really fucking hard and I’ve never given it its due. But the rhythm involved, the meter, the placement of rhymes and stressed/unstressed syllables is NUTS. To have a song be so variable and also feel like it flows is a huge achievement.

It took me a long time but I wrote a version that is a one-to-one replica of the original, accounting for meter, rhythm, rhyme placement, and syllabic stresses while being on a completely different subject.

Eat it, Weird Al. I love “Amish Paradise” but lyrically, you have been smoked.

Later in this email you’ll be able to watch Max (husband) perform a truncated version, but the full audio is right here:

GOONER’S PARADISE

AND NOW!

THE CIRCLE OF DIRTY GARAGE LIFE

A natural life cycle has concluded this week. A very good bed has made its return home, like a salmon escaping the jaws of a hungry bear back to its sweet riverbed of origin.

As we prepare to shove our entire family into a camping rig and live on the road, we are shedding ever more pieces of our suburban lives. But this week we let go of a piece that’s been with us ever since Max and I were dirty garage people.

Max and I have lived in a number of garages, as is common for degenerate fuckups. Well, as we made our most recent (8-ish years ago) garage into a cozy little home, we treated ourselves to a real mattress. Purchased new– not just yoinked from someone ditching their old one.

We bought it from a mattress store that I am certain is a money laundering operation, since I have never seen another single soul shopping there and it has been in business at least a decade.

The queen sized and relatively cheap bed was the first place we snuggled our (now very old) hound dog, it has moved into two different houses with us, it is the bed my father slept in on his last visit to Idaho before he died, and has been my son and daughter’s favorite jumping place.

Now, it is back in that very same garage in which we lived before, when we were desperate enough to save money that we chose to live in a place with no shower to speak of and concrete floors. And it has a new owner– a dear friend who is entering the “save some fucking money, fuck it, I don’t need a real house” phase of life.

Goodbye, sweet bed.

GOONER’S PARADISE: PERFORMED!

Without further ado, here is Max playing the role of chronic masturbator with a truly unforgettable dance move flourish.

That’s all for now. I will write again next week with songs, stories, and updates on this big huge adventure.

Paid subscribers below the fold are going to get some behind the scenes info about a song that I have partially written that will NEVER be released, and the reasons why– particularly given current events.

See you down below!

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