By Brenda Clough
Oh happy day, the second Hobbit movie is out! Perhaps you, like I, cannot get to the theater this weekend. So to tide you over, here is another LOTR song parody for the occasion, dug out from my files:
(The setting is a clambake, on the beach at sad Lake Nurnen. It is the year 1600 of the Second Age, when as you recall everything’s coming up roses for the Dark Lord.)
SAURON: Rings are bustin’ out all over!
The Noldor made the Nine and Sev’n and Three!
Then I slipped off to Mordor
And diddled Celebrimbor
The master of all Middle Earth I’ll be!
I keep waking up in Baltimore. Not literally, of course. It’s just post-REM sleep confusion: those first moments of daze before you are fully awake in the morning when the heat in your room is turned up too high. You dream/imagine many wonderful scenarios for yourself. For several moments you really do believe you are a Turkish queen, Cuban revolutionary, or newly wed in Monaco. Lately I’ve been waking up as a peasant in Baltimore.
My birthday is in December, and therefore I was almost always, if not the youngest in my class, very nearly so. When I was little, this was a source of annoyance, occasionally of anguish. There’s nothing a 7 1/2-year-old enjoys more than lording it over a mere 7-year-old (at least, among the 7-year-olds I knew–perhaps you knew a nicer breed of grade-schooler than I did). ”You have to do what I say because I’m older.”
FOREVER
