Danny Elfman is the Evil King of the Gingers. This title affords him all sorts of red magic, charms and glitter powers. Since 1984 he’s been using his quartet of fetish dolls to perform terrible tasks to make life terribly good for him.
The first black kitty cat with the squiggly zipper stomach on the left landed him the gig of as soundtrack composer for every Tim Burton film ever made. It did this, of course, by breaking into Burton’s duplex in the middle of a full-mooned night. Once inside, little kitty found Burton and made fun of his silk pajamas well past the break of dawn. Burton’s spirit was quickly broken–he handed over full soundtrack rights for the next century to Elfman by mid-afternoon.
The other three, especially Skeleton Jack over there, wrastled Elfman composer duties for the theme song to The Simpsons. You see, 20 years ago Matt Groening was really into training Shetland Ponies for the show circuit. It was basically the only thing he lived for. He enjoyed doodling every now and then but it was basically ponies for life. That is, until one night, when the Ginger Trio arrived.
Well, you know the rest…they poisoned his pony, Mr. Trickets, and promised the antidote in return for a contract to a show he’d have to create. And not just a show, a cartoon with yellow people. Lots of them. Too many to keep track of unless you watched the show every week for 20 years. And somehow Groening fulfilled his end of the bargain and got the antidote. But the fetish dolls killed the pony anyway the next evening by Burger King overdose.
All right, fuck this.
All I can think about while writing is the little field mouse that died in my apartment this week. He didn’t even get the dignity of dying in a trap laced with peanut butter or anything. No, somehow he squeezed his tiny body into my box fan and lost his life to a great spinning electric monster he couldn’t possibly understand.
He escaped a Kentucky’s midsummer monsoon by finding a dry 19th century home. He even made it up to the second floor to assure he was totally out of harm’s way. Once he wiggled his way through what I assume was a heating duct he was clever enough to outsmart two dark cats. Keep in mind that these cats are accomplished mouse hunters; both trained in the jungles of Clifton.
And all I can think about is that dead, chopped up mouse and Danny Elfman’s lyrics from the song on this 12″: “Life’s been so good to me, has it been good to you? Has it been everything that you’d expected it to be? Was it as good for you, as it was good for me? And was it everything that it was all set up to be?”
Well, that mouse probably heard this album pumping through my abode right before he died. Sure, he might not have understood English but I know he felt the vibes…I just know it. And I can safely say that his life was not as good for him as it was for you, Mr. Elfman. You are such an asshole.
