Crumbs From the Corner: Adventures in Woolgathering

Monday, January 11, 2010

Crooked Words Well Intended

My brother has a preference for thunderous, jangling, growl-enriched rock music, and of late has been particularly drawn to the orchestrations of a group that titles itself Them Crooked Vultures.
Mater, who shares with her son a remarkable predilection for electrifying tunes, surprised my sibling recently with a gift of the Vultures' new album.
I have no doubt that his estimation of Mater's artistic taste was greatly elevated, as was Mater's pride with regard to the same. It turned out, therefore, to be a dreadful shame that Mater telephoned the next day to seek feedback on the album.
"How did you like those Crooked Penguins?"
My brother was, naturally enough, perplexed; at first hearing he did not know at all what they were like, or why his mother thought he might be in the least bit knowledgeable about the little arctic fellows, or in what way they might be considered crooked.
Nonetheless it must be emphasised that Mater reveled in her moment of glory, albeit brief, when she stepped forth with the album- and despite her grim reduction of the band's name to something that might delight a reading child, my brother would recall it with fondness, and with no small measure of admiration.


Pauline said...

ha! The penchant for calling things incorrectly runs in my family, too. I remember one sister talking about one of my father's favorite movies - The Magnificent Seven - asking him how he liked The Big Six...

Phyllis Hunt McGowan said...

Pauline, - the Big Six- that's priceless. I love your story! Now Mater won't feel so alone :)

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