A FOOL’S PARADISE – April 1, 2010; Volume 13, Issue 41
To be fooled is human, to fool is divine. Our earliest fables and parables prove our love of—and susceptibility to—trickery, and while such lore often looks to impart wisdom, the deceptive high jinks at its heart speak to our very nature. It makes sense, then, that such an imaginative and conniving species would designate a whole day upon which to celebrate the practical joke. …READ THE FULL STORY HERE
SOME SILLY EXTRAS, FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT
Songs to Celebrate with:
“You Were the Fool,” 12 Golden Country Greats (1995), Ween
“Fool’s Paradise,” Dead Man’s Party (1985), Oingo Boingo
“Fortunate Fool,” Brushfire Fairytales (2001), Jack Johnson
Foolishness for Foodies: Have your book and eat it too! In its 10th year, the international Edible Book Day—also celebrated April 1—honors the birth of epicure extraordinaire, Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (1755-1826), who wittily penned Physiologie du gout (The Physiology of Taste; or, Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy), and is largely credited for creating the food writing genre. This year, the University of Hawai’i at Manoa Library hosts their first-ever celebrations by sponsoring an edible book contest. – books2eat.com / library.manoa.hawaii.edu
Etymology: “[I]t entered English in the 13th century via Old French fol, from Latin follis `bellows.’ This Latin term is thought to come from the Indo-European *bhel-, which gave English bellows. Follis came later to take on a metaphorical meaning like `windbag,’ which then shifted to `fatuous person’ and finally `idiot.’ ” – takeourword.com / “Meaning “jester, court clown” first attested late 14c., though it is not always possible to tell whether the reference is to a professional entertainer or an amusing lunatic on the payroll. As the name of a kind of custard dish, it is attested from 1590s (the food was also called trifle, which may be the source of the name). The verb meaning “to make a fool of” is recorded from 1590s.” – etymonline.com
I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M ADMITTING THIS:
No joke, I watched the aforementioned VHS every day of my toddlerhood. The lessons therein were the very building blocks of my morals, and seeded my enduring love of poppin’, lockin’ and gold chains.
I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID THIS, LET ALONE ADMITTING IT:
I am super awesome at karaoke spectatorship. I can mime along to songs, bounce gayly in my seat and encourage singers in a most non-asshole way. Seriously, I take pride in my non-participatory participation—in being part of the group atmosphere without ever having actually karaoked. (OK, so I once made the “ahh-ooh” back-up noises for a friend singing the B52’s Love Shack, into a microphone that barely worked, sitting at a table of friends. So, I don’t think that really counts.)
Why don’t I karaoke? Let’s just say that even mold in the shower cringes, and just the other night, I was singing little made-up songs in my car (oy, another pitiful admittance), and a car full of laughing teenagers drove past and yelled at me. (I’m still angrily blushing.)
But, last night I—with my bf, his boat captain frat brother (LISTEN HERE) and his lovely, organic farming, kim chee factory-running wife (LISTEN HERE), from Lake Superior (!)—went to Sansei’s, Kihei for 50% off sushi after 10pm… and karaoke. They, were so enthusiastic (and good) that—with the help of a lychee shooter (over a delicious dollop of lychee sorbet for $5!), two deuce-deuces of Kirin Ichiban ($1 off after 10pm), and a couple pre-beers at home—I popped my karaoke cherry with Jim Croce’s Bad, Bad Leroy Brown (one of only two songs in the whole book I figured I sort-of knew).
Somehow or another, despite my silly shimmying and drunken pantomime, I ended up winning the evening’s karaoke contest. Seriously. They gave me a $50 Sansei gift certificate and everything (for what karaoke coordinators told us will be a continuing tradition to help drive Thursday traffic). At first, when they called my name, I was pissed, thinking my friends had slyly signed me up for an additional song (likely a classic—which I was certain not to know—and would likely be thereafter looked down upon), it after all being April Fools’ Day. My friends had to convince me I’d won, and I still wasn’t sure even as staffers gave me the cert and had me sign for it (and the punch line is coming now… ok, now… now?).
My only explanation for the win (supposedly based on audience applause, of which I’m sure I heard none) is that they felt bad for the drunk girl losing her faux stage virginity. But, it was nice to have a wash on the tab for the drinks (and good friends) that got me up there in the first place.