WWLBS?

WWLBS?

Or for the acronymically-curious in the audience today "What would Lord Buckley say?"

Maybe something like...

My Lords and Ladies or the Royal Court, cats and kitties, studs and stallions, knock me a jigger of your attenion, please. Today, I want to blow you a little number called... The Wiggin' Tall Choirs.

In the Apple a year and a day ago was two of the gassinest places humans done ever laid down upon this sweet sphere. The Wiggin' Tall Choirs, they called 'em, and these houses sung, so full of people from all across dis place, dat place, and de other place that they vibed with the spirit of the world. Apple hipsters didn't dig the Wiggin' Tall Choirs at first, all big and too-cool-for-you they was, but the Wiggin' Tall Choirs put down a groove unique until everyone just thought they made the Apple Apple-er.

So. A year ago this very day in the Apple, fokses was doin' they's thing --hippin' and flippin', steppin' and slidin', wailin' it and workin' it-- just like any other day, when whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine a mighty 37 comes wingin' its way outta the friendly skies and BOOM!!!! smack into the side o' one of the Wiggin' Tall Choirs! Lords and ladies, people in the boulevards of the Apple --that city that don't snooze atall-- jumped and stopped!

Just starin' at their Wiggin' Tall Choir tattooed with an in-sane smokin scar, like the Devil's own ink artist had said "You's too pretty, kitty." But them Apple jacks and jills didn't lay out for much, cuz the PD, the FD, the MD, and the rest of the Ds, all swung their grooovy selves into action. Even though they didn't know what they wuz gonna blow, they just blew. Up to the Wiggin' Tall Choir they went with their rescuin' selves when whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine another 37 makes for the other Wiggin' Tall Choir! Ka-BOOOOOOOM!!!!

People cryin' and huggin' and runnin' and screamin' all over the streets. People what were shocked for life after seein' the first Wiggin' Tall Choir lambasted, well, they had to order out for more shock just to keep up. All the while, all them Dees --the F, the P, and the M-- just kept haulin and blowin on their own gig. They was stone righteous kitties, knowin' that bad joss all aroun 'em but still they blew. Cuz that's what those flipsters, those Dees, do.

So. People are a-runnin' left; people are a-runnin' right; people are a-runnin' every which way and makin' up new directions to run, just so's long as it is a-WAY from the Wiggin' Tall Choirs. The Wiggin' Tall Choirs... well, ain't no lie they seen better days. But the Choirs --and this is just an aging cat spinnin' his own dreams out, don't nevermind-- they're hip to tune the Dees are blowin'. They know --they Know babies! that they got to hold they's own. And so seconds tick by into minutes and the Wiggin' Tall Choirs play the most in-sane, crrrrrazy, stone-gassed flip in thir history:

Lords and Ladies of the Royal Court, they stay standing! Givin' what little worker kitties what can a chance to beat feet to the sweet 'crete.

The Dees, all the Fs, Ps, and Ms, keep layin' down their groove, tryin' to get the worker kitties down to the street, not sweaatin' that the Wiggin' Tall Choirs was runnin' low on theys own blow. Til that last chorus comes and then... then they had to hear, the Dees and the worker kitties, they had to hear that last note the Wiggin' Tall Choir blew. From their soles to their cabbages, they could feel the Wiggin' Tall Choir play that last painful tone. Hipsters and flipsters on the ground heard it, too, and looked back in shock ('cause they had found a hold-out stash of shock) at the last note of the Wiggin' Tall Choir. Members of the Royal Court, that Choir to the unbendin' end was hip. As it ran out of juice to hold itself up. As it sung out in steel-and-concrete "Take me, Lord! I's ready!" As it laid down its last powerful note, my beautiful Lords and Ladies... the Wiggin' Tall Choir laid it straight down! Not so much as disturb its neighbor-church, so righteous was the Wiggin' Tall Choir, start to finish.

But, kitties, lemme tell you, as straight and true as the Wiggin' Tall Choir was in life, it's death rattle was Cthulu mating with the Courts of Chaos in a cuisinart. The Wiggin' Tall Choir knocked up powerful smoke and dust makin' the sky do an ashes and sackcloth flip straight outta Revelations. People made up even more directions to run. Even the Dees in the other Wiggin' Tall Choir got the charts for the new set: "Get out! Chicken Little was right!" All of 'em what could, Dees and the rest, they picked up and put down.

And then, the second Wiggin' Tall Choir what got hit first let go with its own gargantuan groan, fallin' to become one with the pavement below its own sweet self.

Leavin' the bright, shiny Apple dusty, silent, and --for the first time in 30 years-- Wigless.

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