There’s A Very Pleasant Side To You, A Side I Much Prefer

I have a pleasant side. It’s the other one. No, not that one. Not that one either. I’ll turn around. Nope. Well, it must be around here somewhere.

Of course it is. My good side is in my dining room, calling themselves Unorganized Hancock and playing Mardy Bum by the Arctic Monkeys.

They’re my good side. They are me, only not a jerk. I guess that means they’re really not me; they must be my wife’s good side. She has all good sides, so she doesn’t have to spin like a centrifuge looking for hers.

The kids have been sick in bed for a week or so. They are homeschooled, so they’re almost never sick. My wife and I once considered sending the little drummer boy to regular school, but we decided it would be easier for us to just drive to the Center for Disease Control and drink out of all the petri dishes they keep there.

It’s been so long since the little feller was sick, and he is so young, that he’d forgotten what being sick was. He was confused, not sad, and kept asking us how he was supposed to act. He sat on a little tuffet made of pillows on his bed and watched cartoons from the forties on a little disc player and sneezed like a cartoon himself — kerchoo. The big one layed around like a teenager. I told him he didn’t need germs for that. He doesn’t listen.

I think there are four takes in this video, and the big one would hack like a four-pack-a-day coal miner in between them. My wife was the key grip, or the best boy, or the gaffer or something. I was David O Fargin Selznick, waving the camera around like I had palsy. The Heir put the whole thing together by himself, and is playing the bass, guitar, and singing. The little one continued his streak of never, ever requiring two takes to do anything.

Ladies and germs, Unorganized Hancock! Enjoy! kerchoo