We went out the other night with the godmother, to play games at a local tea house. They had music that evening, and it hurt my soul: “guy with a guitar” at its worst. Our table was twitching the whole night, reacting to high notes that weren’t as high as they should have been.
Towards the end of the evening, guitar-guy actually attempted “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Godmother excused herself to the restroom, leaving me and the kids to sit through unplugged Queen. Whit didn’t recognize the song (no surprise there–it was both in the wrong key *and* awful). I explained to him that it was the song from “Wayne’s World,” and told him the title.
He then came over to me and whispered,
Sounds more like “Rhapsody in Brown” to me.
Scatological Gershwin jokes. My boy’s a treasure.