CRAIG CONLEY (Prof. Oddfellow) is recognized by Encarta as “America’s most creative and diligent scholar of letters, words and punctuation.” He has been called a “language fanatic” by Page Six gossip columnist Cindy Adams, a “cult hero” by Publisher’s Weekly, a “monk for the modern age” by George Parker, and “a true Renaissance man of the modern era, diving headfirst into comprehensive, open-minded study of realms obscured or merely obscure” by Clint Marsh. An eccentric scholar, Conley’s ideas are often decades ahead of their time. He invented the concept of the “virtual pet” in 1980, fifteen years before the debut of the popular “Tamagotchi” in Japan. His virtual pet, actually a rare flower, still thrives and has reached an incomprehensible size. Conley’s website is
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Found 1 post tagged ‘bob marley’

November 13, 2019 (permalink)

A friend told us about the time in 2012 that he caught a Bananarama concert at Seattle's Hard Rock Cafe, attended by the gayest audience he'd ever seen at any show.  As he put it, "No chairs, no women."  Though the singers lip-synched their songs and forgot their own lyrics, my friend said that the casual and friendly environment they created made for a very entertaining evening (the band even let fans come on stage to propose marriage and do other shenanigans).  That pair of phrases, "no chairs, no women" stuck with us ... to the tune of a Bob Marley song.  We revised Marley's lyrics to make them about our friend's experience, all the while poking affectionate fun at Bananarama (who have been laughing all the way to the bank for decades).  Here's a recording of our altered version, as well as the side-by-side lyrics.  How many homages to Bananarama song titles can you catch?
Bananarama Version:
No women, no chairs.
No women, no chairs.
No women, no chairs.
No women, no chairs.

'Cause I remember when we used to sit
In the Hard Rock Cafe, Seattle.
Ob—observing sophisticates
As the ushers led them to their reserved seats.

Good shows we saw.
Oh good bands we've lost along the way. Yeah!
In this great venue you can hear any flaw.
So plug your ears, I say.

No women, no chairs.
No women, no chairs.
Now Bananarama lures no one but queers.
No women, no chairs.

Said—said—said I remember when lip-sync was gauche
and the music was played not played back.
One cruel summer, singers with unplugged mikes,
fanning flamers, but no dykes.

"Na na hey hey, kiss him goodbye,”
this bitch forgets the lines.
Although my feet don’t have no twinkle toes,
I’m gay as in happiness … while this goes on.

Karaoke can be all right!
Hope this set’s gonna last all night!
Though my loafers are not that light!
No pretense and no one’s contrite!
That De Niro can just sit tight!
Heard a rumour they’ll reunite!
Every shy boy an acolyte!
Taking bows, now they’re off stage right!

No women, no chairs.
No women, no chairs.
Bananarama ain’t no Britney Spears.
No women, no chairs.
Original version:
No, woman, no cry.
No, woman, no cry.
No, woman, no cry.
No, woman, no cry.

'Cause I remember when we used to sit
In a government yard in Trenchtown,
Ob—observing the hypocrites.
Mingle with the good people we meet.

Good friends we have.
Oh, good friends we have lost along the way. Yeah!
In this great future you can't forget your past.
So dry your tears, I say.

No, woman, no cry.
No, woman, no cry.
A little darlin', don't shed no tears.
No, woman, no cry.

Said—said—said I remember when we used to sit
In the government yard in Trenchtown.
And then Georgie would make the fire lights,
I say, log wood burnin' through the nights.

Then we would cook cornmeal porridge,
I say, of which I'll share with you.
My feet is my only carriage
And so I've got to push on through. But while I'm gone,

Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!

So, no, woman, no cry.
No, woman, no cry.
I say, oh, little—oh, little darlin', don't shed no tears.
No, woman, no cry. Eh.
> read more from Do-Re-Midi . . .
#bananarama #altered lyrics #bob marley #musical humor
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