Occasionally I find myself staring blankly into the TV screen; it’s off and I’ve lost all sense of time and oh my God, am I drooling? But I’m not … I haven’t … not in years. What the bloody hell is happening to me? Has Paula Abdul’s pill-popping soul departed her body and leapt into mine.
Oh, wait, I know what happened. I was thinking about Theodis Ealey’s “Stand Up in It” again.
What? You haven’t heard “Stand Up in It”? That’s OK. The song is in regular rotation on 1390 WXTC, the Lowcountry’s new classic soul station, if you want to hear. It’s a great station. You should be listening to it.
But, here’s the thing: if “Stand Up in It” comes on, you need to turn the dial immediately. I beg you.
Not that “Stand Up in It” isn’t a sweet bit of ear candy. It’s just that it’ll rot your brain. Or at least the lyrics will.
Let me show you what I mean:
All you wanna be lovers
There’s something you need to know
Now this old lady told me a story a long time ago.
She said Theodis, men think they know what women want
But the truth about the whole thing is boy they really don’t.
She said, I had a man who thought he was the worlds greatest lover
But when you add his time up
He was just a five minute brother
He used to lick it
He used to stroke it
You know one night we was makin love he said
This thing is so damn good I wanna put it in my pipe and smoke it.
She said Theodis you need to know
That you can lick it
And you can stroke it
And you can kiss it
And you can eat it
But you ain’t done a dog gone thing until you stand up in it
Stand up in it? What the hell does that mean?
Stroke it, kiss it, eat it — I understand. But “stand up in it”? Is this something involving strapping on a pair of goulashes? Dressing up like Paddington Bear? Eating toast and marmalade?
Seriously, Theodis, how is this song supposed to help me become a world-class lover if I can’t figure out what the Sam Jackson you’re talking about. Clarence “Strokin’” Carter, you are not. Cripes, you’re not even Billy Squier. (Editor’s note: I just discovered that Squier’s classic rock jingle “The Stroke” has nothing to do with hairy palms and going blind. It appears to be about slimy music execs. What a disappointment.)
Maybe I should ask Jim DeMint, South Carolina’s junior birdman in the U.S. Senate. Judging by a recent op-ed in the Rupert Murdoch-owned Wall Street Journal, the man’s mind is in the gutter.
Here’s what naughty-minded Mr. DeMint had to say:
“To win back the trust of the American people, we must be a ‘big tent’ party. But big tents need strong poles, and the strongest pole of our party — the organizing principle and the crucial alternative to the Democrats — must be freedom.”
Big tents? Strong polls? The thrust of the American people? Jim, buddy, this is The Wall Street Journal, not a pun-filled ad for Enzyte. (Oh. My bad. He said “trust of the American people.”)
Well, I don’t know about the rest of South Carolina, but I’ve had enough, and so have my brothers and sisters in the Slumber Party. And we’ve finally decided to do something about it.
So here goes, Jim: You me. It’s time we faced off. Not in the political arena. Nope. In the bedroom. I challenge you to a pillow fight.
That’s the only way we’re going to be able to bring this feud to an end.
Now, I know that you probably don’t do things this way. You’re used to facing off against people in elections. But that’s not how we in the Slumber Party do things.
So, how about it, Jim? Friday, night. My house. A sleepover. You’re invited. Bring your pillow and prepare to pummelled.
And if that doesn’t settle it, then we’ll move on to a game of truth or dare. And if we’re lucky, maybe spin the bottle.