Pissed Off Peasant Music & Such ..

[Lumpy 1]

I'll start ..
.

 

[buttercup]

 

[beautress]

My brother used to sing this one to me when we were kids a zillion years ago... He really knew how to make his sibling's skin crawl... and to make matters even worse, I think he learned this at a Boy Scout meeting.... He also was a rebel to anything with civility attached to it in any insignificant way. Actually, he gave me a gift. I can stand it around here when dufuses parade their ridicule around. Without his training, what would I, his bratty younger sister ever have done in my little sensible world? <giggle> But when things got about as bad as they could get between us, he almost died of appendicitis when we were in the 7th and 8th grades, and I changed my attitude overnight, and realized that I loved (eewwww) that person for all those years and never had a single clue that I did. He got well, and I knew it when he resumed his little verbal jabs. It made sense, and it never bothered me again, because I had accepted that I loved him through the years. We were a military family, and moved at least once or twice a year, with or without school changes, and by the time I graduated from school, we had lived in a dozen different places and I had attended that many schools, and so did he. And just to prove himself worthy of being clever, he intentionally spent hours figuring out how he could effortlessly go for the lowest average grade and graduated with the lowest GPA possible, which was 70%. He maintained being the lowest achiever in his class and he loved doing it. That all went out the door when he went into the Navy. The first week he was in the navy, he had to spend a few days in the brig for his contentious ways, and that was all the incentive he needed to clean up his act. We knew he was a mechanical genius, and after his decision to be a good sailor, he was placed in mechanics on a ship that flew phantom jets and after a couple of weeks, his pals told me he could take apart and put together a Phantom jet, the most complex plane ever made at the time. He was so good at what he did, his ship Captain did something he was not supposed to do--he managed to keep him on the Midway for several years, whereas that was never supposed to happen, but with a first week in the brig being presented, none of the other captains realized they were passing by a true genius of aerospace and airplanes that broke the sound barrier. My mom fretted about him when she hadn't heard from him for months, so I wrote a letter to his captain that made him really upset at me. And he contacted mom every two weeks with a letter of how he was doing thereafter. When he retired, we lived far apart, separated by a couple of thousand miles, but before he died he thanked me for writing his Captain, and said he didn't know how much he was loved by family. That made my whole life seem like a life well-lived, and I will love him wherever in heaven God puts angels who defended and won battles with their expertise as mechanics to the elite pilots who enjoyed totally safe airplanes due to his care. He died rather young, and from the little curled up man he was the day before he passed away, I knew he likely suffered from the poisonous rocket fuels he worked around, cleaning up the messes without gloves on, which he probably did to get those planes out there asap, and make sure all was well for the pilots who stopped the enemy dead in their tracks from hammering the troops on the ground. I was so proud of him, and I still love the thought of him, even though he treated me rotten as ever after his appendix surgery when he was in the 8th grade, and we had just moved to a small town in West Texas. I really learned young how to let unfair critiques go like water off a duck's back, thanks to my brother whose insults taught me to realize that is how he dealt with his younger sister's straight A's while he sought the C minuses and still passed without being held back after the second grade. He was smart, but he didn't want anybody in the family know it. He didn't realize I had figured him out, either. His secret intelligence was safe with me as he tortured Dad for being hyper-critical of his school basement grades he engineered with calculations of how he would graduate in spite of his family situation. Enough. His song that he sang just for me, and for the record, it really turned my childish stomach when he crooned it:

​

 

[Lumpy 1]

My brother used to sing this one to me when we were kids a zillion years ago... He really knew how to make his sibling's skin crawl... and to make matters even worse, I think he learned this at a Boy Scout meeting.... He also was a rebel to anything with civility attached to it in any insignificant way. Actually, he gave me a gift. I can stand it around here when dufuses parade their ridicule around. Without his training, what would I, his bratty younger sister ever have done in my little sensible world? <giggle> But when things got about as bad as they could get between us, he almost died of appendicitis when we were in the 7th and 8th grades, and I changed my attitude overnight, and realized that I loved (eewwww) that person for all those years and never had a single clue that I did. He got well, and I knew it when he resumed his little verbal jabs. It made sense, and it never bothered me again, because I had accepted that I loved him through the years. We were a military family, and moved at least once or twice a year, with or without school changes, and by the time I graduated from school, we had lived in a dozen different places and I had attended that many schools, and so did he. And just to prove himself worthy of being clever, he intentionally spent hours figuring out how he could effortlessly go for the lowest average grade and graduated with the lowest GPA possible, which was 70%. He maintained being the lowest achiever in his class and he loved doing it. That all went out the door when he went into the Navy. The first week he was in the navy, he had to spend a few days in the brig for his contentious ways, and that was all the incentive he needed to clean up his act. We knew he was a mechanical genius, and after his decision to be a good sailor, he was placed in mechanics on a ship that flew phantom jets and after a couple of weeks, his pals told me he could take apart and put together a Phantom jet, the most complex plane ever made at the time. He was so good at what he did, his ship Captain did something he was not supposed to do--he managed to keep him on the Midway for several years, whereas that was never supposed to happen, but with a first week in the brig being presented, none of the other captains realized they were passing by a true genius of aerospace and airplanes that broke the sound barrier. My mom fretted about him when she hadn't heard from him for months, so I wrote a letter to his captain that made him really upset at me. And he contacted mom every two weeks with a letter of how he was doing thereafter. When he retired, we lived far apart, separated by a couple of thousand miles, but before he died he thanked me for writing his Captain, and said he didn't know how much he was loved by family. That made my whole life seem like a life well-lived, and I will love him wherever in heaven God puts angels who defended and won battles with their expertise as mechanics to the elite pilots who enjoyed totally safe airplanes due to his care. He died rather young, and from the little curled up man he was the day before he passed away, I knew he likely suffered from the poisonous rocket fuels he worked around, cleaning up the messes without gloves on, which he probably did to get those planes out there asap, and make sure all was well for the pilots who stopped the enemy dead in their tracks from hammering the troops on the ground. I was so proud of him, and I still love the thought of him, even though he treated me rotten as ever after his appendix surgery when he was in the 8th grade, and we had just moved to a small town in West Texas. I really learned young how to let unfair critiques go like water off a duck's back, thanks to my brother whose insults taught me to realize that is how he dealt with his younger sister's straight A's while he sought the C minuses and still passed without being held back after the second grade. He was smart, but he didn't want anybody in the family know it. He didn't realize I had figured him out, either. His secret intelligence was safe with me as he tortured Dad for being hyper-critical of his school basement grades he engineered with calculations of how he would graduate in spite of his family situation. Enough. His song that he sang just for me, and for the record, it really turned my childish stomach when he crooned it:

​

Great to get to know your brother and more about you of course. I’m thinking I would have highly respected your brother. So your Mom & Pops seems to have raised diamonds in the rough. Love you Darlin..

 

[progressive hunter]

My brother used to sing this one to me when we were kids a zillion years ago... He really knew how to make his sibling's skin crawl... and to make matters even worse, I think he learned this at a Boy Scout meeting.... He also was a rebel to anything with civility attached to it in any insignificant way. Actually, he gave me a gift. I can stand it around here when dufuses parade their ridicule around. Without his training, what would I, his bratty younger sister ever have done in my little sensible world? <giggle> But when things got about as bad as they could get between us, he almost died of appendicitis when we were in the 7th and 8th grades, and I changed my attitude overnight, and realized that I loved (eewwww) that person for all those years and never had a single clue that I did. He got well, and I knew it when he resumed his little verbal jabs. It made sense, and it never bothered me again, because I had accepted that I loved him through the years. We were a military family, and moved at least once or twice a year, with or without school changes, and by the time I graduated from school, we had lived in a dozen different places and I had attended that many schools, and so did he. And just to prove himself worthy of being clever, he intentionally spent hours figuring out how he could effortlessly go for the lowest average grade and graduated with the lowest GPA possible, which was 70%. He maintained being the lowest achiever in his class and he loved doing it. That all went out the door when he went into the Navy. The first week he was in the navy, he had to spend a few days in the brig for his contentious ways, and that was all the incentive he needed to clean up his act. We knew he was a mechanical genius, and after his decision to be a good sailor, he was placed in mechanics on a ship that flew phantom jets and after a couple of weeks, his pals told me he could take apart and put together a Phantom jet, the most complex plane ever made at the time. He was so good at what he did, his ship Captain did something he was not supposed to do--he managed to keep him on the Midway for several years, whereas that was never supposed to happen, but with a first week in the brig being presented, none of the other captains realized they were passing by a true genius of aerospace and airplanes that broke the sound barrier. My mom fretted about him when she hadn't heard from him for months, so I wrote a letter to his captain that made him really upset at me. And he contacted mom every two weeks with a letter of how he was doing thereafter. When he retired, we lived far apart, separated by a couple of thousand miles, but before he died he thanked me for writing his Captain, and said he didn't know how much he was loved by family. That made my whole life seem like a life well-lived, and I will love him wherever in heaven God puts angels who defended and won battles with their expertise as mechanics to the elite pilots who enjoyed totally safe airplanes due to his care. He died rather young, and from the little curled up man he was the day before he passed away, I knew he likely suffered from the poisonous rocket fuels he worked around, cleaning up the messes without gloves on, which he probably did to get those planes out there asap, and make sure all was well for the pilots who stopped the enemy dead in their tracks from hammering the troops on the ground. I was so proud of him, and I still love the thought of him, even though he treated me rotten as ever after his appendix surgery when he was in the 8th grade, and we had just moved to a small town in West Texas. I really learned young how to let unfair critiques go like water off a duck's back, thanks to my brother whose insults taught me to realize that is how he dealt with his younger sister's straight A's while he sought the C minuses and still passed without being held back after the second grade. He was smart, but he didn't want anybody in the family know it. He didn't realize I had figured him out, either. His secret intelligence was safe with me as he tortured Dad for being hyper-critical of his school basement grades he engineered with calculations of how he would graduate in spite of his family situation. Enough. His song that he sang just for me, and for the record, it really turned my childish stomach when he crooned it:

​

I've been singing that song for almost 50 yrs now,, learned it in cub scouts,,,