Mr. Softee

There was an ice cream thread here not long ago in which everyone remembered their favorite ice cream. How 'bout your favorite ice cream song?

Here in New York the Mr. Softee truck comes by and plays a song. I don’t do musical notations and a bunch of la las will not do the trick, but if you are from around here you’ll know what I mean.

What is the name of this song. Is it a Mr. Softee original? Is it regional? Can I get a copy of it anywhere to put on my answering machine?

"Hokey Pokey’ by Richard and Linda Thompson. Ice cream as a metaphor for sex. I’d sing it to you, but I’d get banned from the board.

“I’m tired of being an object of ridicule. I wanna be a figure of fear, respect, and SEX!”
-Radar O’Reilly

[David Lee Roth] “I’m the ice cream man,
stop me when I’m passin’ by!” [/David Lee Roth]

Good answer, Chief. I thought this was a Viagra thread.

After all, what is your hosts’ purpose in having a party? Surely not for you to enjoy yourself; if that were their sole purpose, they’d have simply sent champagne and women over to your place by taxi. – P. J. O’Rourke

I asked myself, I said “Self, would anybody look in this thread if you named it the ice cream song thread?”

“Well Self,” I answered back, “You’d probably get more peeks if you named it Mr. Softee.”

“How long before you get limp penis jokes, do ya think, Self?”

“Me, I figure about ten seconds.”

This is what I get for not listening to myself.

As a youth who knows this theme song with all of my heart, I wanted to research this question with the diligence it deserved.

First I put “Mr. Softee” in Google. This resulted in several pages of unfortunate and inappropriate images.

I then added the words “Ice cream” to my search. I found another website, which suggested the following:

Finally, after a few other sites, I found The Mister Softee Home Page. Unfortunately, while I was able to see that the company goes back to 1956, when the Conway brothers founded the business in Philadelphia, and that today, the company “utilizes the latest automotive and equipment technologies to produce a complete ice cream stand on wheels,” it mentioned nothing of the ever-familar melody.

Agast at this oversight, I immediately sent an e-mail to the company, asking for this information, as well as suggesting that they add a sound file of some kind to the site as well.

If I get a reply back (which I should, assuming our conspiracy friends above are not correct), I shall post it here for all the world (well, all the East Coast!) to see!

In the meantime, content yourself with this image, and imagine yourself begging your parents for loose change on a hot summer day:

Yer pal,

One week, three days, 19 hours, 55 minutes and 41 seconds.
433 cigarettes not smoked, saving $54.15.
Life saved: 1 day, 12 hours, 5 minutes.

Almost forgot. New York thrash denizens from the '80s Nuclear Assault, on their seminal album Game Over has their take on “The Mister Softee Theme” on it at the end of side two (I, of course, own it on vinyl).

If I recall, it’s rather close to the original melodious tones we all remember (and a stark contrast to the heaviness of their other material), except for the scream of “Ice Cream!” at the end of it. I will attempt to make a .wav file of this as well.

When I go home, I will check out the album to see if there is any pertinent copyright and/or publishing information on the disc which might lend some evidence to this important issue.

Yer pal,

One week, three days, 20 hours, 3 minutes and 30 seconds.
433 cigarettes not smoked, saving $54.18.
Life saved: 1 day, 12 hours, 5 minutes.

Okay! I am reporting from the home base. The song on the Nuclear Assault album goes uncredited to anyone. In fact, the album says that all of the songs were written by the band, which is obviously not correct in this case.

I managed with much dexterity to make a .wav file of their renditiohn, however. It is not the greatest quality, but remember that I copied it from vinyl LP to cassette, which was then copied through my microphone to the .wav file.

Those of us who know it will have that memory rekindled, and those of you who don’t will have a vague idea what the fuck we’re talking about.

Ii anxiously await confirmation of the song’s actual identity and origins. I feel the answer is close at hand. Let us all hope so…

Yer pal,

One week, three days, 22 hours, 23 minutes and 48 seconds.
437 cigarettes not smoked, saving $54.66.
Life saved: 1 day, 12 hours, 25 minutes.

Thanks Pal Satan.
Not sure if the quality of the file will sound well on my answering machine, but I am now in the process of driving my co-workers crazy. For some reason we all now have a craving for a sugar vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles.