| Poem for Sunday |
[Feb. 23rd, 2003|09:31 am] |
( I'll Try to Tell You What I Know )
About once every six months I actually remember to watch Saturday Night Live, usually because of the musical guest. Last night, in addition to the Foo Fighters, Christopher Walken was hosting. Now, I had rewatched The Prophecy the night before (![[info]](http://img.greatestjournal.com/userinfo.gif) karelian's fault) and I absolutely loved him in Catch Me If You Can so I was just in the mood for him.
And he sang! Both in the opening and in two different skits! But the highlight of the show was his portrayal of Colonel Ingus, southern-fried bearded ladies' man.
"Where are you headed, Colonel Ingus?"
"Down South. I like the heat and the humidity."
"Oh, my word! I've always dreamed of having Colonel Ingus in my house!"
"Well, if I overstay my welcome, just tap me on the head."
Then he got stripped of his rank and asked everyone to call him by his given name, Anal. Christopher fucking Walken. Finger-lickin' good.
Addendum: From ios_pillow_book...someone please, please explain this Viggo/Karl picture to me. Especially Karl's unzipped fly. *g* (untappedbeauty, make the obvious comment!) |
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