What are tags? You can give your posts a "tag", which is like a keyword. Tags help you find content which has something in common. You can assign as many tags as you wish to each post.
View posts by people in your network with tag monty python
I am not going to post a long litany of memories of Ricky. But I am going to need your help. Describe one word--may it be a verb, an object, an adjective, a character or a limerick--that would make Ricky be the first person that pops in your mind. When you post, tag one person only as well. Believe me, when this snowballs--it will be like those Brit comedies that Ricky loved so much.
An explanation: early on in our friendship, Ricky and I shared a love of Monty Python, although at the time I had only seen the movies and not the Flying Circus episodes, and he would always say, out of the blue, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" During those times (2003-04), all I used for downloading was Kazaa, so you'd have an idea of how slow things were. Finally, I found a copy of the 15th episode (and a few isolated clips of sketches).
One evening, I found myself at Yale with Ricky and Reitch--they had just gotten together, so it was probably in late 2004--and I remembered that I had the clip. It had been a while since Ricky had seen the sketch, I think, because the opening scene of "Jarrow, New Year's Eve, 1911" shifting to "Jarrow, 1912" didn't ring a bell with Ricky.
And then Michael Palin burst in with the patented "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" and Ricky damn near fell off our old green couch. Until that point, I had never seen him laugh so hard. And that's one of the ways I remember Ricky and always will.
Red Leicester, stilton, rocquefort, limberger, camembert, chevre, mozarella, parmigiano, ricotta, brie, feta, cheddar. For all you Valentine's Day saps, with love.
One day at the House of Yale, Rej decided to make tinola. We had all the ingredients: chicken, sayote, dahon ng sili, patis, luya, and ... oh noes! The were no chicken broth cubes! We upturned the cupboards, scoured the fridge, even scared some hapless mice out of their hidey-holes, but alas! No chicken broth cubes were found.
So, after much pleading on Rej's part, I sallied forth on a Quest to Find the Chicken Broth Cubes. So there I was, riding up and down Yale street (without a Patsy or a Concorde beside me, banging the coconut shells), seeking out the much-needed cubes, but to no avail. Dejected (and basically thinking bwisetkaRejformakingmegooutatninePMinsearchofartificialflavoring), I slunk back to Yale.
I was about to tromp across the drawbridge when *pouf!* the Chicken Broth Cube Fairy appeared with a sprinking of sparkly chicken broth cube dust.(Lasang-lasang manok!) This ... singular creature looked exactly like Tita Maggi, but had a five o'clock shadow and spoke to me in the most charming baritone. "I have seen your quest, good sir, and will now reward your efforts appropriately!"
And with that, the fairy's hand stretched forth (putangina, ang laki ng kamay!) and handed me three chicken broth cubes! "Add this to your soup tonight," I was instructed. "But beware! If you do not finish all of it tonight, in the morning a beanstalk will grow from your stove, reaching high into the heavens, laden with chicken pieces, peeled and chopped sayote, and wilted sili leaves!" At this point, I expected mascara tears to accompany this most serious warning.
As if horrified by the prophecy, the Chicken Broth Cube Fairy disappeared, again with the cloud of sparkly chicken broth cube dust.
I returned home, bearing the magic chicken broth cubes and my ... very strange tale, which I recounted to the Yale denizens in full detail. Of course by then, the bastards were too hungry to care and just plopped the cubes into the soup and had dinner. They might've been hungry, but not hungry enough to finish everything.
The next morning, I rushed (!) into the kitchen, but alas (!) there was no strange, mutant beanstalk, leaving me to wonder if the Chicken Broth Cube Fairy was at all real.
As an appendix to my blog post, here's Monty Python's "A Lesson in Logic" and the track that started it all, "A Witch" for some background. We also have a Massage from the Swedish Prime Minister (take that, MacLuhan!) and "Eric the Half a Bee" for some semi-carnal fun.
Today, I had my long-overdue shiatsu massage that I've been wanting to get from Bioessence. And while I was getting squished this way and that in a state of semi-nakedness, my mind began to wander.
Oh no, they're doing IT again. What an utter bore.
Hey, I didn't know I had air bubbles in those joints.
The bleeding newsletter should be done by tomorrow.
Wait. Thinking about work bad. Must not think of work.
India. Thinking about India better. Yoghurt, mmm.
And at this point, I fell into the Giggle Loop. To illustrate, I present Steve, Patrick, and Jeff of the BBC:
Now, the significance of the Giggle Loop to the word 'yoghurt' lies with John Cleese and his "Lesson in Logic" from the Monty Python and the Holy Grail Album, where he says, "'Fuck supper!' I now invariably conclude, throwing logic somewhat joyously to the four winds, and so we thrash about on our milk-stained floor, transported by animal passion, until we sink back, exhausted, onto the cartons of yoghurt."
My brain seems to be designed to torment me, since it rewound a few seconds earlier to "...so that I would not have to rely on that rancid Pakistani for my orgasms!"
So imagine, if you will, the scene: masseur lifts my leg--loose-legged massage shorts falling down enough to give the Kurrien family jewels a good breeze--and proceeds to rotate said leg. Brain loops John Cleese's voice in my head, "rancid Pakistani for my orgasms." Masseur repeats same process with other leg, brain loops same audio file at the same time.
Bwiset.
Maybe I should console myself with the fact that when there's a minute silence at my funeral, people will just burst out laughing.
It's been a little over ten years since I first saw "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" in one of my English classes. Now I want a suit of chain mail, a helmet, gauntlets, boots and a surcoat so I can kick up my heels!
