Skip to main content

Silly musings


We cracked open Ron's birthday present today and christened it with a batch of chicken wings.  It's a fancy shmancy deep fryer with temperature control and a metal basket.  Uptown!  Lucy is now enjoying the box.  Here she is, relaxing.  It's really her house.  We just live here.

Today I totally mistook two Kona residents for Punatics.  I could have sworn they were Punatics. I even asked them, "So, are you two visiting from Pahoa?"  Shoots, cuz.  They looked like 'em. They dressed like 'em.  They smelled like 'em.  It just goes to show you, you can't judge a book by its cover.  It also goes to show you there are pockets of Punatic-like folk all over Hawaii Island.  With the possible exception of Waikaloa, a.k.a Haole-wood.  

Here in Hawaii, it's not uncommon to hear cute little ditties on the radio singing about local foods.  There's a very popular song called Fish and Poi, with a chorus that goes like this:

I like fish and poi
I'm a big boy
lomi salmon, pipikaula
and a large lilikoi

For the record, pipikaula is Hawaiian beef jerky and lilikoi in this context refers to a passion fruit drink.  Anyway, it's clever and cute here.  There's another song that extols the virtues of a certain roasted bird:

Huli huli chicken,
I love my huli huli chicken...

Again, a very popular song.  Now, if these sorts of songs were to be sung by mainstream, white-bread middle Americans about their favorite foods, I just don't think they would fly.  I mean, would you listen the following lyrics?

I like pot roast and spuds,
I'm a cool stud,
dinner rolls with butter 
don't forget the suds....

It doesn't really work, does it?   Or how 'bout if we literally translate the second tune?  Huli huli in Hawaiian means simply to turn.  It's:

Rotisserie chicken, I love my rotisserie chicken......

See?  It's no good, no matter how spectacular the melody.  Of course Jimmy Buffett pulled it off with Cheeseburger in Paradise.  

These are the ponderings that keep me up at night.
I'm pretty sure I need some sleep.

A hui hou.  Aloha!







Comments

Anonymous said…
Another classic "island" song that somehow captures the lifestyle is King Kekai's song, Green Bottles.

Popular posts from this blog

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud...

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees...