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Oh my God, the last thing I expected on the morning of the New Year was Mrs. F. Miller. The hair on my neck stood on end like a blow-dried Rhodesian Ridgeback just seeing that evil grin, and if you think I'm going to poke that "play" button you've got another thing coming. That would be like duct-taping the cat's tail to the rocking chair; something so foul you know you'll regret it BEFORE you do it (kinda like marriage). It could be forgiven if the exposure was accidental, but not if you did something like that on purpose, just for the ugly fun of it.

I have a fairly unique viewpoint on Mrs. F. Miller, because the very first time my ears were seared by her screeching is permanently embroidered on my cochlea. She's from my hometown, y'see. Like the rest of the world, we were blissfully unaware of her klaxon-like "gifts" until the success of her abortion of Pet Clark's "Downtown" made it unsafe to turn on a radio for a whole Summer (I believe she's still in the Guinness book under; "joke that got old quickest"), and thereafter her life and mine seem interminably mixed, like a bogus coin that keeps turning up in your pocket.

Throughout the 60's, 70's etc. she performed locally (doesn't the thought of "An Evening With Mrs. F. Miller" fill you with a special sort of dread, even though the chances of it happening are so remote?) Though at the height of her dubious "fame" she appeared on variety shows like "Hollywood Palace," "Micky Finn's" and "The Smothers Brothers," she never seemed to disappear into the obscurity she so richly deserved. For ages, you'd flip on the tube and there she would be shrieking on Merv or Mike or the Tonight Show, and always those little ads in the paper warning people about one of her local gigs, in case any masochists wanted to throw a twenty out the window (musically speaking).

I had an aunt who was good friends with her, and she always claimed that Mrs. F. Miller was actually a fine alto, and that her whole shtick was manufactured. In other words; Mrs. F. Miller was in on the joke. She's interred in the same mausoleum as my Grandmother.

Mrs. Miller's music came in to play at two very important times during my life. The first, when I was dating a young lady who lived across the street from my grandmother; whom was aware of our relationship.  She, and her mother went to my grandmother's office to obtain a prescription for birth control pills, which were provided. This was a fact unknown to me, however, my father was made aware of the situation.

My parents had just purchased a 1973 Lincoln, in Ginger Gold Moondust, similar to the one below (ours had a tan top)

 

The AM/FM 8-Track had an excellent sound, and a good friend, "Ralph S." recorded a "make out tape" for me, which included a couple of Barry White songs, and "Go all the way", by the Raspberries.  I never knew of my father to have listened to my music, however, during an episode of "parking", the tape player had finished the second Barry White song, then "Hijack", by Herbie Mann.  Next up, was the "paydirt" song, however, (just as I was ready to go for it), Mrs. Miller started belting out "Yellow Submarine". My old man might as well have dumped a bucket of ice in my lap.

When I returned home, he had this sh*t-eating grin, knowing full well what had just happened.

Fast forward about fifteen years, I was scheduled to perform a complete prostatectomy at a hospital which was less than a stellar performer.  The O.R. staff was never helpful, barely competent, and the hospital was even worse. I made a cassette tape with a "melody of Mrs. Miller's best", and at one point, the CRNA begged me to "please allow her to stop the tape".

I would have loved to have had a beer with Mrs. Miller. One of my friends attended a performance of her's at Tan Son Nhut Airbase, in 'Nam, during the Bob Hope Christmas Shows.

PAMD wrote:

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Green Tambourine:

-- Edited by PAMD on Tuesday 1st of January 2013 05:06:10 AM

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Now there's a sick Idear... Instead of songify you music.  Have a app that turns someone singing to Mrs. Millerfy there lyrics or songs.... LMAO