I've been remiss in posting this story, mostly because I keep forgetting it until it shows up in my nightmares. So there's that.
Several, several months ago The Husband (and Melissa's husband as well, I later found out) was excited to watch one of his favorite programs on PBS (or MPT as it's know here), Maryland Outdoors, or Outdoors Maryland. Whatever. Something not inside. So anyway, he was all sorts of thrilled to get to watch it again, and judging by our TV schedule, it should have been on when he tuned to that channel. And yet, it wasn't on. What was you might ask?
The one, the only,
Celtic Man. YES, that intrepidly stupid group of singing and assumedly drunken Irishmen who couldn't emote their way out of a paper bag. What are the odds that not only was The Husband's show not on as promised, but it was superseded by this, the most unintentionally entertaining musical group of all time?
Oh, but wait, it gets better! Not only was Celtic Man performing at that time, but at the very moment we tuned in, Creepy, Leering, Future Public Sex Offender Guy was singing. No, not his signature "Ride On" piece, but...wait for it...the man who looks every moment as if he's going to crack your skull open and eat his Coco Crispies out of it was singing "Every Breath You Take." NO, I CERTAINLY AM NOT KIDDING. The creepiest stalker singer on earth was singing the creepiest stalker song ever written. It's like he reads this blog and does it out of spite or something.
And for our added amusement, some totally random dancer dances on stage while he awkwardly haunts her from his perch. Why doesn't he just sing with a hockey mask on while he's at it? Now THAT I'd pay to see.