Tim Minchin <3

Mer Tim Minchin

Och förstås ledmotivet till Skeptikerpodden: Baba Brinkman

Hittade inte originalet(?) med Uggla, så den här får duga.

Magnus Uggla orginalet då

Härligt intellektuella Siouxsie & the Banshees, en postpunkoutfit från sent sjuttio-tidigt åttiotal skrev, bland annat, en låt om psychic surgery ur en skeptisk vinkel.

Bogus = finare ord för bullshit.

You dip your hands into my flesh
And say you won’t reveal a scar
I must have faith in this procedure
It’s a miracle-it’s a wonder

A thousand hidden needles
In a thousand covered nerves
Stick pins in my receptacles
Look to your voodoo doll-your mojo

Staying alive at five
For you to cure my ailments
Another soul is saved
With your bogus medications

What colour shall we have today?
Depends on how you feel I say
Consult your research on the media
See blue will calm my hysteria

Staying alive at five
For you to cure my ailments
Another soul is saved
With your bogus medications
Staying alive at five
With your empty containers
Another corpse ornaments your waiting room
Will you ever regret-the placebo effect
Can you ever forget-the placebo effect

Frank Zappa - Cosmic Debris The Mystery Man came over An' he said: "I'm outa-site!" He said, for a nominal service charge, I could reach nervonna t'nite If I was ready, willing 'n able To pay him his regular fee He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs And devote His Attention to me But I said . . . Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?) Look here brother, Don't you waste your time on me The Mystery Man got nervous An' he fidget around a bit He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe An' he whipped out a shaving kit Now, I thought it was a razor An' a can of foamin' goo But he told me right then when the top popped open There was nothin' his box won't do With the oil of Afro-dytee An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo He said: "You might not believe this, little fella, but it'll cure your Asthma too!" An' I said . . . Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?) Look here brother, Don't you waste your time on me Don't waste yer time . . . I've got troubles of my own, I said An' you can't help me out So take your meditations an' your preparations An' ram it up yer snout "BUT I GOT A KRISTL BOL!," he said An' held it to the light So I snatched it All away from him An' I showed him how to do it right I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head So I'd look like I was Deep I said some Mumbo Jumbos then An' told him he was goin' to sleep I robbed his rings An' pocket watch An' everything else I found I had that sucker hypnotized He couldn't even make a sound I proceeded to tell him his future then As long as he was hanging around, I said "The price of meat has just gone up An' yer ol' lady has just gone down . . . " Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?) Don't you know, You could make more money as a butcher, So don't you waste your time on me (Don't waste it, don't waste your time on me . . . ) Ohm shonty, ohm shonty, ohm shonty-ohm SSHONTAY