This Song Can Only Mean One Thing!

Warning

This post contains bad, foul, filthy and unacceptable language - the words that “will curve your spine, grow hair on your hands and maybe, even bring us, God help us, peace without honor.”

This is not a post for children.  Kids, take a hike.

This is also not a post for those adults who are offended by this type of language.  Do yourself a favor, and go read some of my cute stuff before moral outrage can kick in.

Just about everything else on this blog is clean…Stupid sometimes, but clean.

End of Warning.

Welcome back folks!

It’s time for the third annual

The Third Kind of Yearly…

How about we call it the Third “Whenever the Fuck I Feel Like It”

and move on?

Whatever label I use,  the George Awards for fantastic use of profanity in the world of films have returned. 

Click here for a full explanation of the Awards. 

That one is also an index, to help navigate through the shitload of posts this has blossomed into.

To finish the opening ceremonies, a musical number.

This has been a mild and dry winter.  YAY!

However, when cleaning up after that one weekend in January where the weather remembered what season it was all at once, this song popped into my head fully formed during the hours of profanity laced snow blowing, shoveling and lifting my broken aging body off the ground after multiple tumbles.

Apologies to Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne for this parody of “Let It Snow.”

Then again, it was featured at the end of a George Award winning Bruce Willis classic, as well as it’s sequel…

Sing along everyone!

Oh, the drifts and the ice are frightful,

‘Cause that old man winter’s spiteful.

The chill makes me feel old and slow,

Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow!

I won’t make it in for my meeting,

In my face it’s started sleeting.

Wind up my nose ice does blow,

Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow!

When I’ve got a part cleaned real nice,

A squall wipes out the work of my past!

I’ll stomp back and not see the ice,

Wind up down flat on my ass!

The weather man sure was lying,

It won’t stop, and I am crying.

And, the frostbite cost me a toe,

Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow!

Oh, the blower blades just keep chopping,

On the lawn, confetti’s dropping,

Now the newspaper ain’t no mo’,

Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow!

When I finally reach the road,

Motor on the snow blower has quit.

Now it’s a non functional load,

I scream and yell, “You piece of shit!”

Oh, the feeling has left my fingers,

As the icy coating lingers.

Pain in my chest starts to grow

Fuck the Snow! Fuck the Snow, Fuck the Snow!

Fuck the Snow!

Fuck the Snow!

FUCK

THE

SNOW!

Ole’!

Come back next week for a few “Hell of a good pick”s for George Awards!