Silver Senior Tells BigBlue’56′s Favorite Joke

Silver Senior on Sex

Silver Senior – The Gift of Cialis

Silver Senior on Philosophy

Title Songs For Movies That Didn’t Have Them



To the tune of  Three Coins In the Fountain

Our Fantastic Voyage!
Who was first to reach his toes?
Raquel went through the stomach,
And was stripped of most her clothes.

My route was the heart valve,
Past the ribs shaped like a cage;
Short cut right through the bladder –
Left the bladder in a rage.

Neck and neck around the knee,
In our cellular Grand Prix.

The great photo finish,
No one living really knows;
As we raced to the wire,
There this story had to close ..

That was when …
Someone stepped …
On his toes.


To the tune of  Moon River

I’m so way in hock,
I’ve peddled all my schlock
To you.

Five fifty is
Much too thrifty a
Price for this item
My hand holds in view.

Twelve dollars
Is a better bid;
Don’t keep your money hid –

I just want a fair, honest rate
For this thirty-eight,
So, stick-em-up!  Donate!
Or die.


To the tune of Laura

Is the face in the desert sky;
In the sand — size 10-D
His smile,
Inviting each Turkish guy,
Each Kurd and Greek and Thai to beeeeee…..

A friend of
Larry –
It’s the name that makes Arabs cheer;
Makes mirages come true.
They say
He’s only a little queer,
But our camels get
Their humps from him, too.

More Title Songs For Movies That Didn’t Have Them.


To the tune of  Ghost Riders In the Sky

A troika speeds across the steppes one wintry Russian night;
It’s doing 20 per — for troikas, that’s the speed of light.
Ahead is lying town of Tomsk, where anxious footsteps fall:
They’re waiting for the troika and Zhivago’s first house call.

Dippy-dee-ayyyyyy….. dippy-dee-dooooooo.  For
Zhivago’s first house call.

So through the blinding snow he goes, but he can’t see a thing;
And at the fork he takes a right — oops!  That way lies Peking.
A quick U-turn — “Illegal!” yells a Cossack cop named Saul;
Ten rubles later Saul’s paid off, back to the first house call.

Diddle-dee-daayyyy; diddle-dee doooo!  It’s
Back to the first house call.

Across the Volga, past the boatmen frozen to their oars;
A peasant tries to hitch a ride, but on the troika roars.
As villagers stare at Dr. Z. while watching him depart;
They wonder why in hell they cast an Arab in the part.

Past Minsk and Pinsk and Omsk to Tomsk, he finally arrives;
He’s greeted with some vodka and potatoes filled with chives.
And when the booze was gone, they took him to the patient’s room –
One look, Zhivago knew right then, the patient’s awful doom.

“What can I sayyyyy?  Oi-yoi-oy-veyyyy.  This
Ain’t such a great house call.”

“I cannot help this man,” he cried, “his ailment mystifies;
It could be mumps or measles or a windburn of the thighs.
To diagnose this case you’d need a practicing G.P.;
It happens that my specialty is gynecology.

But I’ll refer you to a doc who lives in Vishkovny.
I doubt if he makes house calls, he’s not sensitive like me.
Just give the patient aspirin, and be sure he stays in bed;
And if his body stays that stiff for three more days — he’s dead!