The interwebs are strange old places, and no mistake. It was vitally important for me today to find the text of the Calderdale play, "The Pace Egg". I needed it because I wanted some inappropriate text to cut and paste into a particularly intrusive and nosy online form. And you know what, I couldn't find it in almost two full minutes of searching on the net.
Stymied, I looked for, and found, the words to The Derby Ram and cut and pasted that into the box instead.
(It's a Northerner thing.)
Having got that important business out of the way, I browsed some of my favorite blogs, including PowerPop, which led me to believe that this Ike and Tina Turner Video was teh Dope:
I double-clicked, switched on the PC's speakers, waited a second for the vid to buffer and . . . and. . . thought I had completely misunderstood the whole Ike and Tina Turner oeuvre. I listened for a good forty seconds before disbelief took over.
When I checked my head, ears, speakers and finally the pages I had open I realized the sound slider on the YouTube video was not all the way up; but the midi sound on the blasted Derby Ram page was happily sawing its way through the old tune at full volume. I have to say it didn't leave Tina much to do, but Ike had his hands full with it.
Don't worry about sending The Pace Egg to me, because when I thought to look later, I found two printed copies within thirty seconds on the bookcase behind me. It turns out it's more often spelled "The Peace Egg" - odd, since I believe it's derived from Pasch Egg, or Easter Egg - and that's the way you have to Google it. When you do, you find the Doctor's speech that I originally wanted to use as bumf to fill in the nosy form. I've corrected the internet spelling to the actual text of course.
(Alas, my copy is missing the woodcut of
the devil and only has the cover above.)
Fool: What diseases can you cure?
Doctor: All sorts.
Fool: What's all sorts?
Doctor: The itch, the pitch the palsy and the gout; if a man gets nineteen devils in his skull I'll cast twenty of them out. I have in my pockets crutches for lame ducks, spectacles for blind bumblebees, packsaddles and panniers for grasshoppers and plaisters for broken-backed mice. I cured Sir Harry of a nang-nail almost fifty-five yards long; surely I can cure this poor man.
Pure peotry! (As they spell it on internet.)
Ike and Tina were worth watching too.