| Notes by FZ
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| Eventually it was discovered that God did not want us to be all the same.
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| This was BAD NEWS for the Governments of The World as it seemed contrary to the doctrine of Portion Controlled Servings. Mankind must be made more uniformly, if THE FUTURE was going to work.
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| Various ways were sought to bind us all together, but, alas, SAME-NESS was unenforceable.
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| It was about this time that someone came up with the idea of TOTAL CRIMINALIZATION, based on the principle that if we were ALL crooks we could at last be uniform to some degree in the eyes of THE LAW.
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| Shrewdly our legislators calculated that most people were too lazy to perform a REAL CRIME, so new laws were manufactured, making it possible for anyone to violate them any time of the day or night, and once we had all broken some kind of law, we’d all be in the same big happy club, right up there with the President, the most exalted industrialists, and the clerical big shots of all your favorite religions ▶.
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| TOTAL CRIMINALIZATION was the greatest idea of its time and was vastly popular, except with those people who didn’t want to be crooks or outlaws, so, of course, they had to be TRICKED INTO IT… which is one of the reasons why MUSIC was eventually made ILLEGAL.
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| Prelude by FZ
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| Desperate nerds in high offices all over the world have been known to enact the most disgusting pieces of legislation in order to win votes (or, in places where they don’t get to vote, to control unwanted forms of mass behavior).
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| Environmental laws were not passed to protect our air and water… they were passed to get votes. Seasonal anti-smut campaigns are not conducted to rid our communities of moral rot… they are conducted to give an aura of saintliness to the office-seekers who demand them. If a few key phrases are thrown into any speech (as the expert advisors explain to these various heads of state) votes will roll in, bucks will roll in, and, most importantly, power will be maintained by the groovy guy (or gal) who gets the most media coverage for his sleaze. Naturally, his friends in various businesses will do OK too.
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| All governments perpetuate themselves through the daily commission of acts which a rational person might find to be stupid or dangerous (or both). Naturally, our government is no exception… for instance, if the President (any one of them) went on TV and sat there with the flag in the background (or maybe a rustic scene on a little backdrop, plus the flag) and stared sincerely into the camera and told everybody that all energy problems and all inflationary problems had been traced to and could be solved by the abolition of MUSIC, chances are that most people would believe him and think that the illegalization of this obnoxious form of noise pollution would be a small price to pay for the chance to buy gas like the good ol’ days. No way? Never happen? Records are made out of oil. All those big rock shows go from town to town in fuel-gobbling 45 foot trucks… and when they get there, they use up enormous amounts of electrical energy with their lights, their amplifiers, their PA systems… their smoke machines. And all those synthesizers… look at all the plastic they got in ‘em… and the guitar picks… you name it…
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| “Joe’s Garage” is a stupid story about how the government is going to try to do away with music (a prime cause of unwanted mass behavior). It’s sort of like a really cheap kind of high school play… the way it might have been done 20 years ago, with all the sets made out of cardboard boxes and poster paint. It’s also like those lectures that local narcs used to give (where they show you a display of all the different ways you can get wasted, with the pills leading to the weed leading to the needle, etc., etc.). If the plot of the story seems just a little bit preposterous, and if the idea of The Central Scrutinizer enforcing laws that haven’t been passed yet makes you giggle, just be glad you don’t live in one of the cheerful little countries where, at this very moment, music is either severely restricted… or, as it is in Iran, totally illegal.
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| [Notes by FZ] Sometimes when you’re not looking he just sneaks up on you. He looks like a cheap sort of flying saucer about five feet across with a snout-like megaphone apparatus in the front with two big eyes mounted like Appletons with miniature motorized frowning chrome eyebrows over them. Along the side of his disc-like body are several sets of stupid-looking headers and exhaust hoses which apparently propel him and punctuate his dialogue with horrible-smelling smoke rings. In the middle of his head we can see an airport wind sock and constantly twirling anemometer. The bottom of him has a landing light and three spoked wheels.
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| In spite of all this, it is obvious that the way he really gets around is by being dangled from place to place by a union guy with a dark green shirt up in the roof who is eating a sandwich (pieces of which drop off every once in a while and lodge themselves near the hole where they put the oil in that makes the cheap smoke). He hovers into view and speaks to us thusly… ▶
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|
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| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… it is my responsibility to enforce all the laws that haven’t been passed yet. It is also my responsibility to alert each and every one of you to the potential consequences of various ordinary everyday activities you might be performing which could eventually lead to The Death Penalty (or affect your parent’s credit rating). Our criminal institutions are full of little creeps like you who do wrong things… and many of them were driven to these crimes by a horrible force called MUSIC!
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|
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| Our studies have shown that this horrible force is so dangerous to society at large that laws are being drawn up at this very moment to stop it forever! Cruel and inhuman punishments are being carefully described in tiny paragraphs so they won’t conflict with the Constitution (which, itself, is being modified in order to accommodate THE FUTURE).
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|
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| I bring you now a special presentation to show what can happen to you if you choose a career in MUSIC…
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| The white zone is for loading and unloading only… If you have to load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE… you’ll love it… it’s a way of life…
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|
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| Hi, it’s me, I’m back. This is the CENTRAL SCRU-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-TINIZER… The white zone is for loading and unloading only… If you gotta load or if you gotta unload, go to the white zone, you’ll love it… it’s a way of life, that’s right! You’ll love it, it’s a way of life, that’s right, you’ll love it, a way of life, right, love it… This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER.
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| [Notes by FZ] A boring old garage in a residential area with a teen-age band rehearsing in it. JOE (the main character in the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER’s Special Presentation) sings to us of the trials and tribulations of garage-band husbandry.
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|
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| [Central Scrutinizer] We take you now to a garage in Canoga Park
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| [Larry] It makes its own sauce if you add water
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|
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| [Joe] It wasn’t very large, there was just enough room to cram the drums
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| In the corner over by the Dodge it was a fifty-four with a mashed up door
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| And a cheesy little amp with a sign on the front said “Fender Champ”
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| And a second-hand guitar, it was a Stratocaster with a whammy bar
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| At this point, LARRY (a guy who will eventually give up music and earn a respectable living as a roadie for a group called Toad-O) joins in the song…
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|
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| [Larry] We could jam in Joe’s garage, his mama was screamin’, his dad was mad
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| We was playin’ the same old song in the afternoon an’ sometimes we would
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| Play it all night long, it was all we knew, an’ easy too
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| So we wouldn’t get it wrong, all we did was bend the string like…
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|
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| Hey! Down in Joe’s garage, we didn’t have no dope or LSD
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| But a coupla quartsa beer would fix it so the intonation
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| Would not offend yer ear and the same old chords goin’ over an’ over
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| Became a symphony, we could play it again an’ again an’ again
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| ‘Cause it sounded good to me. ONE MORE TIME!
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|
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| We could jam in Joe’s garage, his mama was screamin’: “TURN IT DOWN!”
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| We was playin’ the same old song in the afternoon an’ sometimes we would
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| Play it all night long, it was all we knew, an’ easy too
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| So we wouldn’t get it wrong, even if you played it on a saxophone
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|
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| We thought we was pretty good, we talked about keepin’ the band together
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| An’ we figured that we should ‘cause about this time we was gettin’ the eye
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| From the girls in the neighborhood, they’d all come over an’ dance around like…
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| Twenty teen-age girls dash in and go STOMP-CLAP, STOMP-CLAP-CLAP…
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|
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| So we picked out a stupid name, had some cards printed up for a coupla bucks
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| An’ we was on our way to fame, got matching suits an’ Beatle boots
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| An’ a sign on the back of the car an’ we was ready to work in a go-go bar
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| ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, LET’S SEE IF YOU’VE GOT SOME MORE!
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|
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| People seemed to like our song, they got up an’ danced an’ made a lotta noise
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| An’ it wasn’t ‘fore very long, a guy from a company we can’t name
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| Said we oughta take his pen an’ sign on the line for a real good time
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| But he didn’t tell us when these “good times” would be somethin’ that was really happenin’
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| So the band broke up an’ it looks like (ooh-ooh) we will never play again (wee-ooh)
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|
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| [Joe] Guess you only get one chance in life to play a song that goes like…
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| And as the band plays their little song, MRS. BORG (who keeps her son, SY, in the closet with the vacuum cleaner) screams out the window…
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| [Mrs. Borg] Turn it down!
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| Turn it DOWN!
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| I have children sleeping here…
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| Don’t you boys know any nice songs?
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|
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| [Joe, speculating on the future] Well, the years was rollin’ by, Heavy Metal an’ Glitter Rock
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| Had caught the public eye, snotty boys with lipstick on
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| Was really flyin’ high an’ then they got that Disco thing ▶
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| An’ New Wave came along an’ all of a sudden I thought the time
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| Had come for that old song we used to play in Joe’s garage
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| And if I am not wrong you will soon be dancin’ to the…
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|
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| [Central Scrutinizer] The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only. If you gotta load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE. You’ll love it…
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|
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| [Joe] I said the years was rollin’ by, yeah, the years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] I’m calling THE POLICE!
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| [Joe] So the years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] I did it!
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| [Joe] So the years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] They’ll be here… shortly!
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| [Joe] By, by, the years was rollin’ by
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|
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| [Officer Butzis] This is the police…
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| [Mrs. Borg] I’m not joking around anymore!
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| [Officer Butzis] Come out! We have the garage surrounded
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| [Joe] The years was rollin’ by
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| [Officer Butzis] Give yourself up, we will not harm you ▶ or hurt you, neither
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| [Joe] I said the years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] You’ll see now! There they are, they’re coming!
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| [Officer Butzis] This is the police, give yourself up, we will not harm you ▶
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| [Joe] The years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] Listen to that mess, would you!
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| [Officer Butzis] This is the police, give yourself up, we have the garage surrounded
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| [Mrs. Borg] Every day this goes on around here!
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| [Joe] The years was rollin’ by
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| [Officer Butzis] We will not harm you ▶ or maim you (SWAT Team 4, move in!)
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| [Joe] The years was rollin’ by
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| [Mrs. Borg] He used to cut my grass… he was a very nice boy…
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| [Officer Butzis] This is the police, come out with your hands up
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|
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| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… That was Joe’s first confrontation with The Law. Naturally, we were easy on him. One of our friendly counselors gave him a donut… and told him to stick closer to church-oriented social activities.
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| [Notes by FZ] A festive CYO party with crepe paper streamers, contestants for the broom dance, the “Hokey Pokey”, baked goods, and FATHER RILEY making sure the lights don’t go down too low…
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|
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| [Father Riley B. Jones & various party goers] Well
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| Catholic Girls
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| With a tiny little mustache
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| Catholic Girls
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| Do you know how they go?
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| Catholic Girls
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| In the Rectory Basement
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| Father Riley’s a fairy but it don’t bother Mary
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|
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| Catholic Girls
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| At the CYO
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| Catholic Girls
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| Do you know how they go?
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| Catholic Girls
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| There can be no replacement
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| How do they go, after the show?
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| [Joe] All the way
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| That’s the way they go
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| Every day
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| And none of their mamas ever seem to know
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| Hip-hip-hooray
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| For all the class they show
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| There’s nothing like a Catholic Girl
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| At the CYO
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| When they learn to blow…
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] They’re learning to blow all the catholic boys!
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| [Mary] Warren Cuccurullo…
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] Catholic Boys!
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| [Mary] Kinda young, kinda WOW!
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] Catholic Boys!
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| [Mary] Vinnie Colaiuta…
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| [Chorus] Where are they now? Did they all take The Vow?
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|
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| [Instrumental]
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|
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] Catholic Girls!
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| [Warren Cuccurullo] Carmenita Scarfone!
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] Catholic Girls!
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| [Officer Butzis] Hey! She gave me VD!
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| [Father Riley B. Jones] Catholic Girls!
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| [Warren Cuccurullo] Toni Carbone!
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| [Chorus] With a tongue like a cow she could make you go WOW!
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|
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| [Joe] VD Vowdy vootie, right away
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| That’s the way they go
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| Every day
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| Whenever their mamas take them to a show
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| Matinee
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| Pass the popcorn, please
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| There’s nothing like a Catholic Girl
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| With her hand in the box
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| When she’s on her knees
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|
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| [Larry] She was on her knees
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| My little Catholic Girl
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| [Chorus] In a little white dress
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| Catholic Girls
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| They never confess
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| Catholic Girls
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| I got one for a cousin
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| I love how they go
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| So send me a dozen ▶
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|
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| Catholic Girls
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| OOOOOOH!
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| Well well well
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| Catholic Girls
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| Ma-ma-mum ma-ma-mum
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| Yai-ee-ahhh!
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| Catholic Girls
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| OOOOOOH!
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| Well well now
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| Catholic Girls
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| Ma-ma-mum ma-ma-ma-ma-mum
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| Yai-ee-ahhh!
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|
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| Catholic Girls
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| Ma-ma ma-ma-maaah
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| OOOOOOH!
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| Catholic Girls
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| Yai-ee-ahhh!
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| Well well
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| Catholic Girls
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| Ma-ma ma-ma-ma-mum
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| OOOOOOH!
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| Ma-ma ma-ma ma-mum
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| Catholic Girls
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| Yai-ee-ahhh!
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| Ma-ma ma-ma-ma-mum
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|
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| Catholic Girls
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| OOOOOOH!
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| Catholic Girls
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| Yai-ee-ahhh!
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|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe had a girlfriend named Mary. She used to go to the church club every week. They’d meet each other there, hold hands and think Pure Thoughts…
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| [Notes by FZ] Backstage at the local Armory, MARY, in her little white dress, is wiping the remnants of her performance off the side of her mouth as LARRY (the guy from the garage who quit the band in order to make an honest living) zips up the front of his stinking boiler suit and sings to the same teen-age girls who were stomping and clapping a little while ago, as they kneel with their little pink mouths open near the crew bus, hoping to save the price of admission by performing acts of Hooverism on the jolly lads who set up the PA system.
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|
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| [Central Scrutinizer] But one night, at the social club meeting Mary didn’t show up… she was sucking cock backstage at The Armory in order to get a pass to see some big rock group for free…
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|
|
| [Larry] Hey hey hey, all you girls in these industrial towns
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| I know you’re prob’ly gettin’ tired of all the local clowns
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| They never give you no respect, they never treat you nice
|
| So perhaps you oughta try a little friendly advice
|
|
|
| And be a CREW SLUT
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| Hey, you’ll love it ▶
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| It’s a way of life
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| See the world
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| Don’t make a fuss, just get on the bus
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|
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| CREW SLUT
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| Add water, makes its own sauce
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| So you don’t forget, call before midnite tonite
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| The boys in the crew are just waiting for you
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|
|
| You never get to move around, you never go nowhere
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| I know you’re prob’ly gettin’ tired of all the guys out there
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| You always wondered what it’s like to go from place to place
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| So, darlin’, take a little ride on the mixer’s face
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|
|
| Be a CREW SLUT
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| Just follow the magic footprints
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| Hey, you’ll love it!
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| It’s a way of life
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| I ain’t gonna squash it
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| And you don’t need to wash it!
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|
|
| CREW SLUT
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| Hey, I’ll buy you a pizza
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| Be a CREW SLUT
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| Of course I’ll introduce you to Warren
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| The boys in the crew are only waiting for you
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|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
| At this point, the road crew, as all road crews must from time to time, borrow some of the big rock group’s equipment and have a blues jam session, indicating to the kneeling maidens that they are endowed with a great deal of raw talent, as well as massive meat. Obviously impressed with LARRY’s ability to suck so hard on his harmonica that screeching little noises come out of it, MARY kneels again and reaches upward in gestures of supplication, listening intently as LARRY continues to sing…
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|
|
| [Larry] Well, you been to Alabama, girl, an’ Georgia too
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| An’ all the boys in the crew is bein’ good to you
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| I know you’re sayin’ to yourself: “This is the way to go”
|
| ‘Cause when you need a little extra they will give you some mo’
|
|
|
| ‘Cause you’re the CREW SLUT
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| [Mary] Ha ha ha! I’m into leather…
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| [Larry] That’s good! A lot of the boys in the crew love leather…
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| CREW SLUT
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| [Mary] And rubber…
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| CREW SLUT
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| [Larry] Yeh, they like rubber too… shrink-tubing with a hair dryer…
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| [Road crew chorus] Trade your spot on the bench for a guy with a wrench
|
|
|
| And be a CREW SLUT
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| [Mary] Ha ha ha!
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| [Larry] You like that, huh?
|
| CREW SLUT
|
| [Larry] I told you you’d love it… it’s a way of life!
|
| [Road crew chorus] The guys in the crew have got a present for you!
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|
|
| [Mary] A present for me?
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| [Larry] We got a present for you!
|
| [Mary] Whaddya got? Whaddya gonna give me?
|
|
|
| [Larry] It looks just like a Telefunken U-47
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| [Mary] Ha ha ha!
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| [Larry] You’ll love it…
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| [Mary] With leather?
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|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] Eh errr… eh eh. This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER again… And so, Mary was enticed away from Joe by an evil barbarian with a wrench in his pocket, lured into a life of SLEAZERY with the entire road crew of some famous rock group (I don’t know whether it was really Toad-O… I don’t know… I’ll check it out). Again we see MUSIC causing BIG TROUBLE!
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| [Notes by FZ] After a few weeks on the bus, being porked by Toad-O’s road crew, and being too exhausted to do their laundry on a regular basis, MARY is dumped in Miami. With no money (and no other famous rock groups due into the area for at least three weeks), she tries to pick up a few bucks by entering the Wet T-Shirt Contest at The Brasserie…
|
|
|
| [Ike Willis] Looks to me like something funny is going on around here
|
| People laughin’ an’ dancin’ an’ payin’ entirely too much for their beer
|
| And they all think they are clean outasite
|
| And they’re ready to party ‘cause the sign outside says it’s WET T-SHIRT NITE
|
| An’ they all crave some hot delight
|
|
|
| Well, the girls are excited because in a minute they’re gonna get wet
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| An’ the boys are delighted because all the titties will get ‘em upset
|
| An’ they all think they’re reety-awright
|
| An’ they’re ready to boogie ‘cause the sign outside says it’s WET T-SHIRT NITE
|
| An’ they all crave some pink delight
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| When the water gets on ‘em their ninnies get rigid an’ look pretty bold
|
| It’s a common reaction that makes an attraction whenever it’s cold
|
| An’ all of the fellas they wish they could bite
|
| On the cute little nuggets the local girls are showin’ off tonite
|
| You know I think it serves ‘em right
|
| You know I think it serves ‘em right
|
| You know I think it serves ‘em right
|
| You know I think it serves ‘em right
|
| And it’s WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN
|
| I know you want someone to show you some tit!
|
| BIG ONES!
|
| WET ONES!
|
| BIG WET ONES!
|
| At this point, FATHER RILEY (who had been recently de-frocked for not meeting his quota, and has grown his hair out and bought a groovy sport coat and moved to Miami and changed his name to BUDDY JONES) steps onto the crowded bandstand in his exciting new role as a WET T-SHIRT CONTEST EMCEE…
|
|
|
| [Buddy Jones] Ah, thanks, Ike… yes, it’s WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN
|
| Here at The Brasserie… home of THE TITS… huh huh…
|
| And it’s the charming Mary from Canoga Park up next in her bid for the semi-finals… Hi, Mary… howya doin’?
|
| Having been fucked senseless by the boys in the crew, MARY does not recognize the former religious personage from her nights in the Rectory Basement during which she acquired her basic manual skills… Confounded by his sport coat, she replies…
|
| Realizing that she no longer recognizes him… or even appreciates the patient religious training he had given her in the past, BUDDY JONES, like a true WET T-SHIRT EMCEE type person, proceeds to say various stupid things to waste time, making the contest itself take longer, thereby giving the mongoloids squatting on the dance floor an opportunity to buy more exciting beverages… liquid products that will expand their consciousnesses ▶ to the point whereby they might more fully enjoy the ambiance of Miami By Night…
|
|
|
| [Buddy Jones] Where ya from?
|
| [Mary] Ah, the bus…
|
| [Buddy Jones] Which one?
|
| [Mary] You know… the last tour… you know… leather
|
| [Buddy Jones] Oh… you were the girl that was stuck to seat 38 on Phydeaux III… Why don’t you get in position now and take a deep breath? Because this water is very, very cold, but it’s goin’ to be so stimulating. And Mary’s the kind of Red-Blooded American Girl who’ll do anything…
|
| [Mary] Anything…
|
| [Buddy Jones] I said anything… for fifty bucks. That’s right!
|
| [Mary] I really need the fifty bucks you know, I gotta get home!
|
| [Buddy Jones] Yeh, I know, your father is waiting for you in the tool shed… That’s right, you heard right… our big prize tonite is fifty American dollars to the girl with the most exciting mammalian protruberances… ▶
|
| [Mary] Here I am!
|
| [Buddy Jones] … as viewed through a thoroughly soaked, stupid-looking white sort of male person’s conservative kind of middle-of-the-road, COTTON UNDERGARMENT! Whoopee! And here comes THE WATER!
|
| [Mary] EEK!
|
| [Buddy Jones] No, you’d squeak more if the water got on you… sounds like you just got an ice pick in the forehead… AND HERE COMES THE ICE PICK IN THE FOREHEAD… A million laughs, Mary! Anyway: good golly, what a mess… she’s totally soaked…
|
| [Mary] I love it
|
| [Buddy Jones] Yeah, totally committed to the fifty bucks… That’s it, just step into the spotlight… let the guys get a good look at ya, honey!
|
| [Mary] Here I am!
|
| [Buddy Jones] Whaddya say, fellas? Nice setta jugs? Now, Mary, how’s about shakin’ it around a little? OH MY GOODNESS, LOOK AT HER GO!
|
| [Mary] Oooh! I’m dancing!
|
| [Buddy Jones] Ain’t this what living is really all about! Here’s your fifty bucks, Mary…
|
| [Mary] Oh great! Now I can go home!
|
| [Buddy Jones] Home is where the heart is
|
| [Mary] On the bus
|
| [Notes by FZ] Whereupon the house combo at The Brasserie drifts into a modified version of one of Toad-O’s big hit numbers.
|
| BUDDY JONES stares longingly at the little nozzles pooching out of MARY’s moistened upper clothing, but it’s too late… WARREN, one of the other guys from Joe’s garage band, has already recognized her (he’s now one of the foremost disco-fusion rhythm guitar players on the Wet T-Shirt Circuit, currently providing exciting strummery here in Miami), and is in the process of getting the details of her life on the bus with LARRY and the other jolly road crew lads. He eventually sends JOE a letter with this information in it…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Meanwhile, Joe hears about Mary’s naughty exploits. He falls in with a fast crowd and gets seduced by a girl who works at the Jack In The Box, named Lucille, who gives him an unpronounceable disease…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
| [Notes by FZ] Shortly after his liaison with the taco stand lady, JOE makes a horrible discovery…
|
|
|
| [Joe] Why does it hurt when I pee?
|
| Why does it hurt when I pee?
|
| I don’t want no doctor to stick no needle in me
|
| Why does it hurt when I pee?
|
|
|
| I got it from the toilet seat
|
| I got it from the toilet seat
|
| It jumped right up and grabbed my meat
|
| Got it from the toilet seat
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| My balls feel like a pair of maracas
|
| My balls feel like a pair of maracas
|
| Oh God, I probably got the GON-O-KA-KA-KHACKUS!
|
| My balls feel like a pair of maracas
|
| Ai-ee-ai-ee-ahhhh!
|
| Why does it…
|
| Why does it…
|
| Why does it…
|
| Why does it hurt… when… I peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?
|
| [Notes by FZ] JOE is so disoriented by his disease, he goes in the other room and plays the title cut from an old Jeff Simmons album, and sings along with it.
|
|
|
| [Joe] Lucille
|
| Has messed my mind up
|
| But I still love her
|
| Oh, I still love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has messed my mind up
|
| But I still need her
|
| You know, I need her
|
|
|
| Whatcha tryna doota me, Lucille?
|
| Whatcha tryna doota me, Lucille?
|
| Whatcha tryna doota me, Lucille?
|
| You got me goin’ outta my mind
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has tore my heart up
|
| But I still love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has tore my heart up
|
| But I still need her
|
| You know, I need her
|
|
|
| She treats me like my heart is made of stone
|
| She runs around and leaves me home all alone
|
| She doesn’t answer when I call her on the phone
|
| She messed up my mind
|
| I’m cryin’ alla the time
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has messed my mind up
|
| But I still love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has tore my heart up
|
| But I still need her
|
| I really need her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My mind up
|
| I love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My heart up
|
| But I still love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My mind up
|
| I love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My heart up
|
| I really need her
|
| I really really need her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My mind up
|
| I really love her
|
| I really really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My heart up
|
| I really love her
|
| I really love her
|
|
|
| Lu-u-u-u-u
|
| My mind up
|
| But I still love her
|
| I really really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My mind up
|
| I really need her
|
| I really really need her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| Has tore my heart up
|
| I really love her
|
| I really really love her
|
|
|
| Lucille
|
| My mind up
|
| I really love her
|
| I really love her
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… again. Hi… it’s me again, the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe says Lucille has messed his mind up, but, was it the girl or was it the music? As you can see… girls, music, disease, heartbreak… they all go together… Joe found out the hard way, but his troubles were just beginning, his mind was so messed up… he could hardly do nothin’… He was in a quandary… being devoured by the swirling cesspool of his own steaming desires… the guy was a wreck… so… what does he do? For once, he does something SMART… he goes out… and pays a lot of money to L. Ron Hoover at the First… at the pch… hem… he goes out and pays a lot of money to L. Ron Hoover… at the First Church of Appliantology!
|
| [Notes by FZ] Arriving at L. RON HOOVER’s modernistic office / cathedral / warehouse / condominium complex, JOE is greeted by a pre-recorded message and a dramatically illuminated image on a wall-sized TV screen…
|
|
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] Welcome to the First Church of Appliantology! The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only!
|
|
|
| Don’t you be tarot-fied
|
| It’s just a token of my extreme
|
| Don’t you be tarot-fied
|
| It’s just a token of my extreme
|
|
|
| Don’t you never try to look behind my eyes
|
| You don’t wanna know what they have seen
|
| Don’t you never try to look behind my eyes
|
| You don’t wanna know what they have seen
|
|
|
| [Joe, thinking to himself] Some people think that if they go too far
|
| They’ll never get back to where the rest of them are
|
| I might be crazy but there’s one thing I know
|
| You might be surprised at what you find out when ya go!
|
| And thus, having rationalized his expedition to L. RON’s modernistic office / cathedral / warehouse / condominium complex, JOE seeks The Answer to his problem…
|
|
|
| [Joe] Oh oh oh, mystical advisor
|
| What is my problem, tell me, can you see?
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] Well, you have nothing to fear, my son!
|
| You are a Latent Appliance Fetishist, it appears to me!
|
|
|
| [Joe] That all seems very, very strange
|
| I never craved a toaster or a color TV
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] A Latent Appliance Fetishist is a person who refuses to admit to his or herself
|
| That sexual gratification can only be achieved through the use of MACHINES… Get the picture?
|
|
|
| [Joe] Are you telling me I should come out of the closet now, Mr. Ron?
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] No, my son! You must go into THE CLOSET…
|
| [Joe] What?
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] And you will have…
|
| [Joe] Eh?
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] Hey! A lot of fun!
|
| That’s where they all live
|
| So if you want an appliance to love you you’ll have to go in there an’ get you one
|
|
|
| [Joe] Well… that seems simple enough…
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] Yes, but if you want a really GOOD one you’ll have to learn a foreign language…
|
| [Joe] German, for instance?
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] That’s right… a lot of really cute ones come from over there! (Fifty bucks, please)
|
| And a cheerful group of Appliantologists dance into the room wearing aluminum foil lab smocks, lock arms in a circle around JOE, making sure he pays in full, all the while singing with L. RON as he delivers his final instructions…
|
|
|
| [L. Ron Hoover] If you been mod-o-fied
|
| It’s an illusion, an’ you’re in between
|
| Don’t you be tarot-fied
|
| It’s just a lot of nothin’, so what can it mean?
|
| If you been mod-o-fied
|
| It’s an illusion, an’ you’re in between
|
| Don’t you be tarot-fied
|
| It’s just a lot of nothin’, so what can it mean?
|
| If you been mod-o-fied
|
| It’s an illusion, an’ you’re in between
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe has just learned to speak German. Now, get this, here’s why he did it! He’s gonna go to this club on the other side of town, it’s called “THE CLOSET”… And they got these appliances in there that really go for a guy dressed up like a housewife who can speak German (you know what I mean) … So Joe’s learned how to speak German, he goes in this place and he sees these little kitchen machineries dancing around with each other, and he sees this one… that looks like… it’s a cross between an industrial vacuum cleaner and a chrome piggy bank with marital aids stuck all over its body… it’s really exciting… and when he sees it, he bursts into song…
|
| [Joe] Fick mich, du miserabler Hurensohn
|
| Du miserabler Hurensohn
|
| Fick mich, du miserabler Hurensohn
|
|
|
| Streck ihn aus
|
| Streck aus deinen heißen gelockten…
|
| Streck ihn aus
|
| Streck aus deinen heißen gelockten…
|
| Streck ihn aus
|
| Streck aus deinen heißen gelockten Schwanz
|
| Ah-ee-ahee-ahhhh!
|
|
|
| Mach es sehr schnell
|
| Rein und raus
|
| Magisches Schwein
|
| Mach es sehr schnell
|
| Rein und raus
|
| Magisches Schwein
|
|
|
| Bis es spritzt, spritzt, spritzt, spritzt
|
| Feuer!
|
| Bis es spritzt, spritzt, spritzt, spritzt
|
| Feuer!
|
|
|
| Aber beklecker nicht das Sofa, Sofa!
|
| Aber beklecker nicht das Sofa, Sofa!
|
| Aber beklecker nicht das Sofa, Sofa!
|
| Aber beklecker nicht das Sofa, Sofa!
|
| Stunned by JOE’s command of its native tongue, a gleaming model XQJ-37 nuclear-powered Pan-Sexual Roto-Plooker named SY BORG (previously thought to be the son of the lady who called the police on cut two, side I), spindles over to JOE and says…
|
|
|
| [Sy Borg] Pick me… I’m clean… ▶ I am also programmed for conversational English
|
| This stuns JOE, who stands there speechless for a moment. Smitten by JOE’s animal magnetism, SY continues…
|
|
|
| [Sy Borg] May I have this dance?
|
| And JOE, looking sharp in his housewife costume with the napkin on his head and the yellow chiffon apron, responds boldly by repeating the entreaty originally delivered in Deutsch in its conversational English form, so that his intentions regarding the appliance will be made perfectly clear…
|
|
|
| [Joe] I’ve got a better idea…
|
| Fuck me, you ugly son of a bitch
|
| You ugly son of a bitch
|
| Fuck me, you ugly son of a bitch
|
|
|
| Stick it out
|
| Stick out yer hot curly weenie
|
| Stick it out
|
| Stick out yer hot curly weenie
|
| Stick it out
|
| Stick out yer hot curly weenie, weenie
|
| Weenie, weenie, weenie!
|
|
|
| Make it go fast
|
| In and out
|
| In and out
|
| Magical pig!
|
| Make it go fast
|
| In and out
|
| In and out
|
| Magical pig!
|
|
|
| Till it squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts)
|
| Fire!
|
| Till it squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts), squirts (squirts)
|
| Fire!
|
|
|
| Don’t get no jizz upon that sofa, sofa
|
| Don’t get no jizz upon that sofa, sofa
|
| Don’t get no jizz upon that sofa, sofa
|
| Don’t get no jizz upon that sofa, sofa
|
| Whereupon, in order to prove to JOE that he is no ordinary Appliance, SY quotes a few lines of traditional American Love Poetry…
|
|
|
[Sy Borg] What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?
|
Do you come here often?
|
Wait a minute… I’ve got it… you’re an Italian! ▶
|
What? You’re Jewish?
|
Love your nails…
|
You must be a Libra…
|
Your place or mine?
|
Your place or mine?
|
Your place or mine?
|
Your place or mine?
|
Your place or mine?
|
Your place or mine?
|
|
|
✄ See the chrome ▶
|
Feel the chrome
|
Touch the chrome
|
Heal the chrome
|
See the screaming hot black steaming
|
Iridescent Naugahyde python screaming
|
Steam roller!
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe and his date are going back to the apartment to have a little party…
|
| [Joe] Sy Borg
|
| Gimme dat, gimme dat
|
| Sy Borg
|
| Gimme dat, give me the chromium leg
|
| I beg
|
| Sy Borg
|
| Gimme dat, gimme dat
|
| Sy Borg
|
| Gimme dat, give me the chromium leg
|
|
|
| Little wires, pliers, tires
|
| They turn me on
|
| Maybe I’m crazy
|
| Maybe I’m crazy
|
| Maybe I’m crazy
|
| Mon…
|
| Stroking several of SY’s gleaming appendages, JOE continues…
|
|
|
| Gee, Sy, this is a real groovy apartment you’ve got here
|
| [Sy Borg] All government sponsored recreational services are clean and efficient
|
| [Joe] This is exciting. I never plooked a tiny chrome-plated machine that looks like a magical pig, with marital aids stuck all over it such as yourself before.
|
| [Sy Borg] You’ll love it! It’s a way of life ▶
|
| [Joe] Does that mean maybe later you’ll plook me…
|
| [Sy Borg] If you wish, we may have a groovy orgy
|
| [Joe] Just me and you?
|
| [Sy Borg] I share this apartment with a modified Gay Bob doll, he goes all the way… Ever try oral sex with a miniature rubberized homo-replica?
|
| [Joe] No, ah, not yet. Ah, is this him?
|
| [Sy Borg] This is him. Your wish is his command. He likes you, he wants to kiss you always, just tell him what you want.
|
| [Joe] Really? Hi, little guy. Think I might get a tiny, but exciting BLOW JOB… Gimme dat, gimme dat… BLOW JOB… Gimme dat, GIVE ME DE CHROMIUM COB.
|
| [Sy Borg] Bend over
|
| [Joe] Gay Bob, BLOW JOB… Gimme dat, gimme dat… BLOW JOB… Gimme dat, GIVE ME DE CHROMIUM COB
|
| [Sy Borg] You’ll love it! It looks just like a Telefunken U-47 ▶
|
| [Joe] Little leather cap and trousers, they look so gay…
|
| Warren just bought some, Warren just bought some, Warren just bought some, hey…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Sy Borg] Bob is tired. Plook me now, you savage rascal. Ehhh! That tickles. You are a fun person, I like you, I want to kiss you always.
|
| [Joe] Gee, this is great. How’s about some bondage and humiliation?
|
| [Sy Borg] Anything you say, master
|
| [Joe] Oh no, I don’t believe it ▶, you’re way more fun than Mary…
|
| [Sy Borg] You’re ✄ plooking too hard…
|
| [Joe] And cleaner than Lucille…
|
| [Sy Borg] Plooking on me…
|
| [Joe] What have I been missing all these years?
|
| [Sy Borg] Too hard
|
| [Joe] Sy…
|
| [Sy Borg] Too hard
|
| [Joe] Sy…
|
| [Sy Borg] Plooking too hard on me-e-e-e-e…
|
| [Joe] Speak to me. Oh no… the golden shower must have shorted out his master circuit. He’s… He’s… Oh my God, I must have plooked him… hey, to death… hey.
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… You have just destroyed one model XQJ-37 Nuclear Powered Pan-Sexual Roto-Plooker and you’re gonna have to pay for it! So give up, you haven’t got a chance.
|
| [Joe] But I… I, I, I, I, I… I can’t pay, I gave all my money to some kinda groovy religious guy… two songs ago…
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] Come on out, son… between the two of us, we’ll find a way to work it out
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] Hello there… this is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe was sent to a special prison where they keep all the other criminals from the music business… you know… the ones who get caught… It’s a horrible place, painted all green on the inside, where musicians and former executives take turns snorting detergent and plooking each other…
|
| (As the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER chuckles to himself for a moment, FATHER RILEY, who become BUDDY JONES, steps into view in his new identity: FATHER RILEY S. JONES, Prison Chaplain, who, in a rather heavy-handed piece of imagery, is now entrusted with the job of singing this song as he assists the captured executives in their quest for new meat to plook, and, once having found these victims for the princes of the industry, trades them little blobs of sanctified lubricant jelly for cigarettes and candy bars while he holds them down so the execs won’t have to work too hard when they stick it in).
|
|
|
| … anyway, listen, while he’s in there he meets this guy who used to be a promo man for a major record company, named Bald-Headed John… King of the Plookers
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] This is the story ‘bout Bald-Headed John
|
| [Former execs] Dong work for Yuda, Dong, Dong
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] He talks a lot an’ it’s usually wrong
|
| [Former execs] Dong work for Yuda, Dong, Dong
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] He said Dong was Wong an’ Wong was Kong an’ Dong work for Yuda an’ John was wrong
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Former execs] Dong work for Yuda, Dong, Dong
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Former execs] He said Dong was Wong and Wong was Kong and Dong was Gong an’ John was wrong
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] John’s got a sausage, yeh man
|
| John’s got a sausage, yeh man
|
| John’s got a sausage that will make you fart
|
| John’s got a sausage that will break your heart
|
| Make you fart and break your heart
|
| [Former execs] Don’t bend over if you are smart
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] He took a little walk to the weenie stand
|
| [Former execs] John’s got a sausage, yeh man
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] A great big weenie in both his hands
|
| [Former execs] John’s got a sausage, yeh man
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] He sucked on the end ‘til the mustard squirt
|
| He said: “You all stand back ‘cause you might get hurt”
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Former execs] John’s got a sausage, yeh man
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Former execs] He said Dong was Wong and Wong was Kong and Kong was Gong an’ John was wrong
|
|
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Make way for the iron shaschige
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] I need a dozen towels so the boys can take a shower
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Bartender, bring me a colada and milk
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] On second thought, make that a water… HtO
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Falcum… take me to the Falcum!
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] I wave my bags, did you wave your’n?
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Well, how much did they wave?
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Ah’m almost two kilometers tall
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] This girl must be praketing richcraft ▶
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Don’t worry about the faggot, I’ll take care of the faggot
|
| [Father Riley B. Jones] Sorry, John, sorry, better try it again
|
|
|
| [Bald-Headed John] Your Pomona is very extinct…
|
| Yeah, I studied with the Dong of Tokyo
|
| An’ also with the oriental Kato…
|
| My body contain, uh, water
|
| I just loves the way these Copenhagens talks!
|
| Driver, McDoodle
|
| Sausage
|
| Salima
|
| Salami
|
| That looks like that stuff Freckles lets out once a mumfth…
|
| Eventually FATHER RILEY B. JONES gets around to JOE with his little case of pre-blessed unguents…
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Poor Joe. He’s getting tired from bending over… But we tried to warn him… didn’t we?
|
| OK, Joe… you asked for it… here comes The Big One
|
| [Joe, anointing himself as he sings] Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| [Manx] Roll it over an’ grease it down, I’ll drive you through the heart of town
|
|
|
| [Joe] Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| [Manx] Roll it over an’ grease it down, I’ll drive you through the heart of town
|
| JOE (who is still wearing his housewife costume from when he first picked up SY BORG in The Closet) adjusts his little apron to a more advantageous position and sings…
|
|
|
| [Joe] Hey, the good women, they sure has it tough
|
| The good men, well, there ain’t enough
|
| All the good girls are lookin’ all the time
|
| Good men is something that they can’t find
|
| ‘Cause if they find one miraculously
|
| They try to be lovin’ as they can be
|
| If they find one and let him go
|
| Chances are they might not never find one no mo’
|
|
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| [Manx] Roll it over an’ grease it down, I’ll drive you through the heart of town
|
|
|
| [Joe] A good lovin’ man is hardest to find
|
| A good woman needs to ease her mind
|
| And I know a few that need to ease it behind
|
| All y’gotta do is grease it down and everything is fine
|
|
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| [Manx] Roll it over an’ grease it down, I’ll drive you through the heart of town
|
|
|
| [Joe] A girl don’t need
|
| No fancy grease
|
| To get herself
|
| Some rump release
|
| Any kind
|
| Of lube’ll do
|
| Maybe from another
|
| Part of you
|
| Lube from the North
|
| Lube from the South
|
| Take a little slobber
|
| From the side of your mouth
|
| From your mouth
|
| From your mouth
|
| From your mouth
|
| From your mouth
|
| Roll it over
|
| Grease it down
|
| Here come that crazy screamin’ sound…
|
|
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Keep it greasy, so it’ll go down easy
|
| Roll it over an’ grease it down (DOWN), down (DOW-HOWN), down (DOW-HOW-HOWN) …
|
| GREASE IT DOWN
|
| Oh no! Here comes that screamin’ sound again…
|
| And sure enough the walls of the prison did reverberate with all sorts of screamin’ sounds as lawyers and execs and promo personages all decide to jump on JOE for a spectacular high-speed gang bang leading to…
|
| [Joe, somewhat exhausted] These executives have plooked the fuck out of me
|
| And there’s still a long time to go before I’ve paid my debt to society
|
| And all I ever really wanted to do was play the guitar an’ bend the string like… ▶
|
| Reent-toont-teent-toont-teent-toont-teenooneenoonee
|
|
|
| I’ve got it
|
| I’ll be sullen and withdrawn
|
| I’ll dwindle off into the twilight realm of my own secret thoughts
|
| I’ll lay on my back here ‘til dawn in a semi-catatonic state
|
| And dream of guitar notes that would irritate
|
| An executive kinda guy…
|
| And sure enough JOE dreams up a few of those guitar notes that every executive despises… those low ones… every exec knows it’s only the records with the high squeally ones that get to be hits (except for Duane Eddy) …
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|
|
| Well, I guess that one did the trick
|
| If they only coulda heard it
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| Half-a-dozen of ‘em woulda strangled while they was suckin’ on each others’ dick
|
| But that was only a bunch of imaginary notes I played
|
| Just a little extra somethin’ to keep me goin’ from day to day
|
| That’s OK
|
| I’ll be gettin’ outta here pretty soon
|
| Then I won’t have to live in this ugly fuckin’ room
|
|
|
| Can’t wait to see…
|
| I can’t wait to see what it’s like on the outside now…
|
| Can’t wait to see…
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| I can’t wait to see what it’s like on the outside now…
|
| [Repeat]
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|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
| And JOE just lays there, dreaming imaginary guitar notes for years on end, until finally they let him out…
|
| [Joe, to himself as he walks out of prison] I’m out at last
|
| Boy, the world sure looks different
|
| Wow… there’s hardly anything fun to do since they made music illegal
|
| But I’m hooked
|
| I got the habit
|
| I’ve got to have it
|
| I need to play
|
| But there’s no musicians anymore
|
| They’re all gone
|
| Wait! I’ve got it!
|
| I’ll be sullen and withdrawn
|
| I’ll dwindle off into the twilight realm of my own secret thoughts
|
| I’ll walk through the parking lot in a semi-catatonic state
|
| And dream of guitar notes to go with the loading zone announcements
|
| JOE wanders through the world which by then has been totally epoxied over, carefully organized, with everyone reporting daily to his or her appointed place in a line somewhere in front of a window somewhere in a building somewhere in order to collect his or her welfare check, which when cashed, made it possible for the young ones to continue the payments for the obsolete and irreparable appliances their parents had purchased on the installment plan years ago, providing as security the future incomes of their children.
|
| The rest of these checks were used by the young recipients to buy fun things of their own on credit, most of which broke down or failed within moments of purchase and seemed to be stacking up everywhere ▶.
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only. If you gotta load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE. You’ll love it. It’s a way of life. This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only. If you have to load or unload, go to the WHITE ZONE. You’ll love it. It’s a way of life. This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only.
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
| As JOE stumbles over mounds of dead consumer goods formed into abstract statues dedicated to the Quality of American Craftsmanship, dreaming his stupid little guitar notes, he hears, somewhere in the back of his head, the voice of MRS. BORG, taunting him:
|
|
|
| [Mrs. Borg] Turn it down!
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| Turn it down!
|
| I have children sleeping here…
|
| Don’t you boys know any nice songs?
|
| I’m calling THE POLICE!
|
| I did it!
|
| They’ll be here… shortly!
|
| I’m not joking around anymore!
|
| You’ll see now!
|
| There they are… they’re coming!
|
| Just listen to that mess, would you!
|
| Every day this goes on around here!
|
| He used to cut my grass…
|
| He was a very nice boy…
|
| He used to cut my grass…
|
| He was a very nice boy…
|
| He used to cut my grass…
|
| He was a very nice boy…
|
| He used to cut my grass…
|
| He was a very nice boy…
|
|
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… yes… he used to be a nice boy… he used to cut the grass… but now his mind is totally destroyed by music. He’s so crazy now he even believes that people are writing articles and reviews about his imaginary guitar notes, and so, continuing to dwindle in the twilight realm of his own secret thoughts, he not only dreams imaginary guitar notes, but, to make matters worse, dreams imaginary vocal parts to a song about the imaginary journalistic profession…
|
| [Joe, clutching the hood ornament of an ancient car] Maybe you thought I was the Packard Goose
|
| Or the Ronald McDonald of the nouveau-abstruse
|
| Well, fuck all them people, I don’t need no excuse
|
| For being what I am, do you hear me, then?
|
|
|
| All them rock & roll writers is the worst kind of sleaze
|
| Selling punk like some new kind of English disease
|
| Is that the wave of the future? Aw, spare me, please!
|
|
|
| Oh no, you gotta go
|
| Who do you write for?
|
| I wanna know
|
| I believe you is the government’s whore
|
| And keeping peoples dumb
|
| I’m really dumb
|
| Is where you’re coming from
|
| And keeping peoples dumb
|
| I’m really dumb
|
| Is where you’re coming from
|
|
|
| Fuck all them writers with the pen in their hand
|
| I will be more specific so they might understand
|
| They can all kiss my ass but because it’s so grand they best just stay away
|
| Hey hey hey
|
|
|
| Hey, Joe, who did you blow?
|
| Moe ▶ pushed the button, boy
|
| And you went to the show
|
| Better suck a little harder or the shekels won’t flow
|
| And I don’t mean your thumb
|
| Don’t mean your thumb
|
| So on your knees you bum
|
| Just tell yourself it’s yum
|
| Yourself it’s yum
|
| And suck it till you’re numb
|
|
|
| Journalism’s kinda scary
|
| And of it we should be wary
|
| Wonder what became of Mary?
|
| And no sooner has he wondered, a vision of Mary appears to him, delivering a little lecture…
|
|
|
| [Voice of Mary’s vision] Hi! It’s me… the girl from the bus… remember? The last tour?
|
| Well…
|
| Information is not knowledge
|
| Knowledge is not wisdom
|
| Wisdom is not truth
|
| Truth is not beauty
|
| Beauty is not love
|
| Love is not music
|
| Music is THE BEST…
|
| Wisdom is the domain of the Wis (which is extinct)
|
| Beauty is a French phonetic corruption of a short cloth neck ornament currently in resurgence…
|
| And no sooner has she spoken (which is awkward and probably incorrect but what the fuck), enormous flabby short cloth neck ornaments obscure the horizon in a multitude, beating their ugly wings and working their hidden chrome snap attachments as they resurge in the direction of the White Zone seeking snack material near the Utensil Shrines of Greater America…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
|
|
| [Joe] If you’re in the audience and like what we do
|
| Well, we want you to know that we like you all too
|
| But as for the sucker who will write the review
|
|
|
| If his mind is prehensile
|
| Mind is prehensile
|
| He’ll put down his pencil
|
| Put down his pencil
|
| And have himself a squat on the cosmic utensil
|
| Cosmic utensil
|
|
|
| Give it all you got on the cosmic utensil
|
| Cosmic utensil
|
| Sit an’ spin until you rot on the cosmic utensil
|
| Cosmic utensil
|
| He really needs to squat on the cosmic utensil
|
| Cosmic utensil
|
| Cosmic utensil
|
|
|
| Now that I got that over with, I’ll just play my imaginary guitar again
|
| Hey… hah, soundin’ pretty good there, me!
|
| Ah… get down…
|
| Uh!
|
|
|
| Boy, what an imagination!
|
|
|
| ✄ Love myself better than I love myself…
|
|
|
| I think…
|
|
|
| What tone!
|
|
|
| Sounds like an Elegant Gypsy!
|
|
|
| What is that? Musk? ▶
|
|
|
| It’s hip!
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… Joe has just worked himself into an imaginary frenzy during the fade-out of his imaginary song… He begins to feel depressed now. He knows the end is near.
|
| He has realized at last that imaginary guitar notes and imaginary vocals exist only in the imagination of the IMAGINER… and… ultimately, who gives a fuck anyway? So… So… Excuse me… ha ha ha! Mm-mh. So… ha ha ha, ha ha ha, who gives a fuck anyway? So he goes back to his ugly little room and quietly dreams his last imaginary guitar solo…
|
|
|
| [Instrumental]
|
| [Central Scrutinizer] This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER… As you can see, music can get you pretty fucked up… Take a tip from Joe, do like he did, hock your imaginary guitar and get a good job…
|
| Joe did, and he’s a happy guy now, on the day shift at the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen, arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot of a fully charged icing anointment utensil ▶.
|
| And every time a nice little muffin comes by on the belt, he poots forth…
|
| And if this doesn’t convince you that MUSIC causes BIG TROUBLE… then maybe I should turn off my plastic megaphone and sing the last song on the album in my regular voice…
|
| A-hem, heh heh
|
|
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A tiny green rosetta
|
|
|
| A green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A tiny green rosetta
|
| You’ll make a muffin really betta
|
| It’s betta
|
| It’s really getting betta
|
| It’s betta, it’s betta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| Setta, setta
|
| And a green rositti, too
|
|
|
| Green rositti
|
| A little green rositti
|
| It’s really, really meaty
|
| The little green rositti
|
|
|
| Make a muffin really betta
|
| It’s betta
|
| (Hey, really out there… that was really good)
|
| It’s really getting betta
|
| It’s betta, it’s betta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| Setta, setta
|
| (Good God, give the drummer some)
|
| Green rosetta
|
|
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| Setta, setta, setta setta, setta, setta setta, setta, setta, setta, setta
|
| Make a muffin, make a muffin, make a muffin
|
| Betta
|
| Make a muffin betta, make a muffin betta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| Make a muffin betta, make a muffin betta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
|
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
|
|
| Good God! You’re really jammin’! Now the Reggae version, hey, for the People in the Third World… we haven’t forgotten anybody on this song… For all of you French people… who think that you’re outta sight… And for the people in Spain… who think the French people are where it’s at… And for the people in Mongolia who always wanted to go to Spain for a vacation… ▶ And for those of you in Taiwan who got chumped, this chorus is for you:
|
| (Rang Tang Ding Dong, I am ✄ the Japanese Sandman… take eight…)
|
|
|
| A green rosetta
|
| A green rosetta, green rosetta, a little green rosetta
|
| A green rosetta
|
| (Against the Reggae beat, though… no, it’s still Reggae, but it’s all backwards, OK)
|
| A green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
|
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| Little green rosetta
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| Little green rosetta
|
| You’ll make a muffin betta
|
| Little green rosetta
|
| Little green rosetta
|
| Little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
|
|
| Now, you see, some places in the Third World it might be difficult to dance to this because the kerosene record player is not a very efficient device… and a lot of times they run out of… they run out of spunk right in the middle of the chorus… causing the song to sound like this…
|
|
|
| A LITTLE GREEN ROSETTA
|
|
|
| However we continue in spite of the fact that the fuel may be low on your record player. We suggest that in places in the Fourth World where things are really tough that you keep the record player going by rubbing two sticks together. And if all else fails, throw the record away… build your own green rosetta… try this recipe: we’ll start with a lump of grass… the grass bone connected to the ankle bone… the knee bone connected to the wishbone… and then everybody moves to New York and goes to a party with Warren. Hey!
|
| And we’ve flown in, at great expense, (triple scale, no less, ladies and gentlemen), Steve Gadd’s clone to play the out-chorus on this song… He’s really outasite, in spite of the fact that the click track is totally irrelevant to what he’s doing right now. I’m listening to the click, yes, I’m suffering with the click track right now… this guy is totally out of sync with it, but what the fuck. Ed Mann will call him up later, show him the sign. OK, Vinnie, where is five?
|
|
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| The singer is not pretty good, the musicians they’re pretty good
|
|
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
| They’re pretty good musicians
|
|
|
| But it don’t make no difference if they’re good musicians
|
| Because anybody who would buy this record doesn’t give a fuck if there’s good musicians on it
|
| Because this is a stupid song
|
| AND THAT’S THE WAY I LIKE IT
|
|
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| Hey! A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| You make a muffin betta
|
| With a green rosetta
|
| A little green rosetta
|
| Rosetta, rosetta, rosetta
|
| Rosetta, rosetta
|
|
|
| [Al Malkin] Zetta…
|
 Photo by Norman Seeff.jpg "(Front of act 1) Photo by Norman Seeff")
.jpg "(LP-1 inside left)")
.jpg "(LP-1 inside right)")
 Photo by Norman Seeff.jpg "(Front of act 2&3) Photo by Norman Seeff")
Songs list
| 
Title origin
|