My mom’s name was Euphrosyne and she wasn’t Greek, which gives you a clue to the sheer pretentiousness of her side of the family. Her brother was a symphony conductor. She was a teacher, a classical singer and a grade A snob. Neither of them would even acknowledge the existence of rock ‘n’ roll or doo-wop. Of course, Scoop being Scoop, I used to do a rather ridiculous bit in which I impersonated her singing “Chantilly Lace” in opera style. That bit was not as ridiculous as what you are about to hear. Imagine, if you can, James Taylor singing “My Neck, My Back.” Got it pictured? Now multiply it times five and you have Mark Zuckerberg crooning the following lyrics:
Brrum-dum-dum
Dum-duh-dum, duh-dum, dum, dum
Three-six-nine, damn, you’re fine
Hoping you can sock it to me, baby, one more time
Get low, get low, get low, get low
Get low, get low, get low
Get low, get low, get low, get low
From the windows to the walls
‘Til sweat drops down my balls
‘Til all these bitches crawl
Oh, skeet-skeet, motherfucker
Oh, skeet-skeet, goddamn
Oh, skeet-skeet, motherfucker
Oh, skeet-skeet, goddamn
Somehow, Zuck managed to avoid the n-word. He’s probably saving that for the title of his album.