Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Getting to Know You

Dotbar was kind enough to "lend" me
this format.

Please tell me

a)the name of your blog
b)what that name means (to you)

Mine is

a) Kill the Goat

b) This is a reference to a bit that Adam Sandler does on his albums. As I told Dotbar, and as you should all know by now, Adam is the god of my idolatry.

It started on his 'What the Hell Happened to Me?' album with a bit called simply 'The Goat' but the genius came on the next album 'What's Your Name?' with The Goat Song. Man, every time I hear it, it brings back memories.

Lyrics to The Goat Song (it reads like a heart-wrenching epic, trust me)

I am a simple goat. I live on the back of a pick-up truck. The Old Man tied me here with a three-foot rope. Am I happy? He don't give a fuck.

"Hey Goat! I'm gonna beat your head in with the hickory stick!" Sometimes he uses his fists. He's filled with anger, and filled with rage and tells me I smell like piss.

His drink, Jimmy Beam, his chaser, a beer. After that, various alcohols. That's when the beatings get so severe. Asleep I pray he falls.

But don't feel sorry for me. Things weren't always this bad. Why, when I was a young talking goat the Old Man was just like my dad. I come from the hills of Europe, that's where I met the Old Man. He was lost in the woods, I gave him directions. He gave me a tuna can then he stopped in his tracks and he said "Hey Goat! Would you like to live with me? I've got a house with a pick-up truck in a place across the sea."

I said "Sure, why not? I've got no family. You seem like a nice guy." So we went off to America, the home of apple pie. On the boat the Old Man told me I would be a present for his wife. "A talking goat!" he exclaimed "she'd never seen this in her life." I felt so special! Well, I just couldn't believe it. After all these years I finally had a friend. He trimmed my beard, he scraped my hooves, I prayed it would never end.

But when we got to his house there was no wife, only a short, short letter. It said "I'm leaving you for your brother because he fucks me better." His eyes filled with tears of sadness, his heart was filled with grief. To soothe himself he drank a pint of Old Granddad and beat me like a side of beef. I cried "Send me back to the hills of Europe!" He just shook his head and said "Nope! No one will ever leave me again. To make sure, put on this three-foot fucking rope."

Present day, I've been on the truck for 51 years; my only friend is the AM radio. Sometimes the neighbourhood children stop by but it's always rocks and beer bottles that they throw. At first they're excited to see a talking goat. They gather around to hear what I have to say. But I guess sometimes my stories go on too long so they leave and giggle I need a bidet.

But you know there was a night that I did get off the truck, when the Old Man was passed out drunk. Three neighbourhood kids took me to a rock 'n roll concert, the kind of music: old-school funk. It was the first time I got off the truck, the music made me lose control. The lead singer asked if we were having fun, I said "Fucking crank that rock 'n roll". The women at the show were beautiful as they danced sexily on the soft grass. One of them even petted my fur; fuck me in the goat ass! Then some long-haired guys grabbed me by the horns and threw me in the mosh pit. They passed me around and treated me nice till I nervously sprayed them with shit. Then the music stopped and everything was quiet, and all the rock 'n rollers started a fucking goat riot:


They chased me under the bleachers, they chased me onto the street. They chased me into an alley and I was dead fucking goat meat. But then I saw a sight that I never thought I'd see: the Old Man swinging his hickory stick, but he wasn't swinging at me. "Fuck you, pot-smoking turkeys! Don't you press your luck!" The long hairs ran away screaming as I scrambled onto the truck.

When we got home the Old Man said "Goat, you broke the sacred law."

"No! Please! Sorry! Shit!"

"I'll let it go this time, but if you leave again I'll break your fucking jaw!"

"Super! Great! Okay! Thank you Old Man, for saving my life. Thank you again and again. You could have let them barbecue me, but instead, you acted like a friend."

"I'm not your friend, I don't even like you, I'm just not drunk" he said. To prove his point he drank a bottle of grain alcohol and beat the fucking shit out of my head.

"Ow ow ow, you're hurting me, Old Man!" That night I suffered a concussion deep inside my goat brain. I still cannot feel my tailbone and I'll probably never walk straight again. I guess you'd call me a scapegoat, a punching bag for the Old Man to mock just because his wife left him for his brother's abnormally large cock. He could have been my buddy but instead he's a crazy old fuck. And once again, I go to sleep in my eternal home, the back of the pick-up truck."

"Good night, Old Man!"

"Yeah, goodnight, Goat!"


So you can see why I have such an affinity for the song. :)
If Adam and I are not kindred spirits, the goat and I definitely are.

Okay, now it's your turn. Spill those guts.

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