Connie Lingus

So things have been a bit weird lately. I don’t know what the hell’s going on and sure don’t feel I’ve researched the matter any deeper to make an educated guess, but come summertime every adult around here do seem to get a major case of the locos. And it ain’t just the folks, even the damn critters are acting like they were auditioning for that dang Poltergeist flick and we’ve got cats and dogs making a major nuisance out of themselves howling and hollering all day and night. I tell you it’s crazy. It’s ugly. And I can assure you I’ve had my brushes with it too. About halfway through May up ’til mid-September this divorced old scarecrow starts to show up at least once a week with freshly-bought cookies asking me to come over and help her “clean out her gutters” when she knows full and well I ain’t no plummer! And I’ve told her a zillion times!

Anyway, yesterday this friend of mine showed up with bloodshot eyes, frizzled hair and a Black Velvet Elvis painting lodged about halfway up his left arm. I asked him what was up with that and he looked like he kinda forgot it was there in the first place and then said he kinda punched it.
– You punched The King? I gasped.
– Well no. I kinda punched the wall and didn’t think about the painting. It was a spur of the moment kinda thing. I’ve been losing sleep and feeling kinda restless lately.
– You and everybody else. Yesterday my sister told me her neighbor apparently crashed his car into the burger place next to Larry’s Manual Car Wash (“Se habla Espanol!”), ran out to kick down the clown-with-speakers-thingy, slammed it down on the counter and then proceeded to order eight large fries and a Coke.
– That’s insane!
– Tell me about it.
– You need at least four large Cokes for that amount!

Now, I can’t say with any certainty that this here Connie Lingus had a case of whatever-the-heck’s-afflicting-this-town-annually but she sure sounds like some of our women folk when she sings the song whose title I can’t repeat in order to stay within the boundries of good taste. It was released as a 7″ on Chuck-a-Moon Records back in the 60s coupled with P. Vert’s Stick Ball and even though a friend of mine claims porn-star Georgina Spelvin used the same moniker when she starred in some naughty eight-millimeter loops back in the 70s I’m still going with it being Connie Vannett (of The Pussy Cat Song fame) making some extra dough using a different name. Reissued on both the Big Itch vinyl compilation series as well as Live Gold’s Raunchy Rock & Roll CD that also includes Marty & The Muff-Tones’ wrestling-themed  It’s So Hard to Say I Love You (When You’re Sitting on My Face). Check ’em out!