While walking down Queen Street a couple of weeks ago, I passed a couple of girls, both with acoustic guitars, strumming some chords. I recognized them and nodded in their direction, and one of them motioned for me to come and talk.
“Hey,” she asked, “we’re trying to settle an argument and since you know all these old songs, maybe you’ll know.”
Since she was in her mid-to-late teens and knew of my accordion repertoire, I guessed that by “old” songs, she meant songs from the eighties, when I was her age.
“I can try. What’s the argument about?”
“You know that band with the old chicks, the Indigo Girls? They have a song, Closer to Fine?”
(Wendy would scream if she’d heard the Indigo Girls being called “old chicks”.)
“Sure. They always played it in the pub after graduation at Queen’s [better known as Crazy Go Nuts University].”
“I say the from the song is ‘I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper and I was free’. She says the word is prostate.”
After I finished laughing, I said “Prostrate! Pros-TRRRATE! Like this…”, and I made the Wayne’s World “We’re Not Worthy!” gesture.
I then added, “I don’t think the Indigos — or half their fans — have been anywhere near a proSTATE.”
