col. cotton's lonely parody band

The house is aswing with music tonight. Not the type of music you would expect for a late middle-aged guy. No smoke-infused tones of Miles Davis or Stan Getz.


Billy Joel sings of his Uptown Girl -- you know, the one who did not last for The Longest Time. Anne Murray glides through Snow Bird. John Travolta misses Sandy.


What human purpose -- other than some madly-secret cult -- could bring together that lot?


Well, Steve is on another song parody kick. It happens every time he sees the Capitol Steps.


But this time I am actually working on a commission -- of sorts. Our Attorney General is retiring. I worked with him for years on his ethics committee. This year, some of us committee alumni are going to roast him. Thus, the 60s Beatles picture -- and the reason why "When I'm Sixty-Four" is blazing through my speakers.


Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know I told you all that I had hung up my parody hat. But I lied. I would share the lyrics with you, but they suffer from being both hackneyed and half-baked.


Besides, like most roastings, they really do not make much sense unless you know the roastee.


So, Mr. AG. Be patient while I attempt to light this match under your goose.