My good friend is coming into the last stages of her ALS. They don't believe she'll last the week. And my father-in-law is back in congestive heart failure, so things are pretty tough right about now.
So to fight the sadness, I give you the post that started the Polka Apocalypse at this blog. Where the Eastern European Polka Underground came in their Shnitzel truck loaded for bear. And the hill billies and Gnome Underground Network (G.U.N.) rousted them after they took over the blog.
So here it is.
There was a tee shirt I found a year ago that I should have bought as a reminder of the dangers of polka. It read, "I cannot resist the demon rhythm of the polka." Now it just may be too late.
There should have been constant vigilance on my part to keep the polka demons at bay. But the overwhelming oomp pah pahs have forced their way into my family. I should have seen the signs, but being so far away, my parents slipped right under my radar.
It started out small. You know, easily dismissible signs. The quiet polka record playing in the background when I call. Dad wearing a loud shirt in a recent picture. Mom's vehement defense of the pairing of clarinet and tuba. Oh, I should have seen it sooner.
But now they're watching this tv program every night: WARNING - DO NOT WATCH THE ENTIRE PROGRAM. HIGH RISK OF POLKA INFECTION.
So now I'm going to have to have a polka intervention before something irreversible occurs. Something like
And that is just so wrong. I have to protect them from themselves - before it really gets out of hand. I can see where they're headed. The ultimate in vile polka.
OHH the inhumanity!!! I need to prepare a detox program stat. I'm sending liberal doses of easy listening. Gordon Lightfoot, Burt Bacharach, Lionel Richie. Anything to deaden the polka effect. Hopefully I'll be able to pull them back from the edge before they start buying matching lederhosen.
*bone wracking shudder*