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As I was helping one of the handlers return her to an upright position, I heard Surfin’ Bird start up on the little record player by the radio vinyl 45s: “Well, everybody's heard about the bird. Bird, bird, bird, the bird’s the word…”. Apparently there’s something in that song that agitates the retarded mind, like a deer repellant, because it touched off a frenzied panic throughout the store, and one young radio lady literally began screaming and hurtling toward the door. I think she would’ve kept right on running through the glass if she hadn’t been intercepted. radio People started hollering, “It’s the song! Turn off the song!!” And after the needle was ripped off the record, things instantly calmed down to a relative murmur. It was the damndest thing I’ve ever seen. It reminded me of a corral of horses in a cowboy movie getting spooked by a snake. So keep that in mind, for future reference: Surfin’ Bird is like kryptonite to the retarded.
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