Bad Herr Day

For many years now, and not many people know this, I have been a secret knee-cymbal virtuoso.
Alas, since I never get any solo recitals, and have absolutely zero interest in being a cog in an Oompah band wheel, it is unlikely you will ever see me play.
This is a great shame because I have adopted a more modern approach to knee-cymbal performance than most, and do not wear traditional lederhosen and silly Alpine cap with a feather in it. No. Instead I prefer to bound on to the stage shirtless, wearing nothing but sleek leather trousers and jackboots, and reciting the poetry of Goethe through an industrial megaphone while slamming my knees together to create dense rhythmic patterns. But I have made recordings, naturally.
My latest CD sold twelve copies in Hamburg, six in Berlin, nine in Dresden, and five thousand in Wisconsin. And my professional dream? Yes. My professional dream is to learn to play the guitar like any normal person.
But unfortunately I find myself a musical prisoner in my own percussive Black Forest Gateau that has been left out in the rain, just like that other famous cake of song.

Comments

[Dr Maroon]

OK. What other famous cake of song?
I went to the black forest once, bought a cuckoo clock.

[stephenesque]

The cake from MacArthur Park, which took so long to bake that the lyricist could not take it when the cake was left ou in the rain.