Dear Luke, We Need to Talk, Darth
Page 7
Just like witches at black masses
Do you realize you rhymed “masses” with “masses”?
Tony
* * *
Tonq,
Greezuh humfit du lowrind. Whavuh clem? Sorssin rockyroll.
Ozzuh
* * *
Ozzy,
Very well. Carry on.
Tony
Hi Mr. Joel,
It’s been awfully hard to find time to talk at the club since I’m busy managing the place and you’re at the piano. Doing your thing. I’ve occasionally given you a nervous smile hoping it would initiate a conversation, but that hasn’t worked out. I’m hoping that by writing my thoughts down, you’ll have a chance to read this when you’re at home or something.
I’ll come right out with it: I need you to sing songs. Actual songs. Because you don’t sing any at all right now. You’ve been playing at my club for three months, and though you’re a fine musician and an acceptable vocalist, these things you perform are simply not songs in the traditional sense. They’re streams of observations about what the people in the club are doing right at that exact moment, punctuated by the occasional “la la la, de de da” when it’s clear you’ve run out of things to say. It’s a continuous stream of musical small talk lasting up to five hours. How about “Stormy Weather” or “Yesterday” or something? Hell, “Feelings.” Anything.
Do you need sheet music? I have some at home. I can bring it in. Do you even know how to play songs?
Frankly, this has been bothering me since you started, but I figured since we get a regular crowd shuffling in on Saturdays when you play, why rock the boat? This past Saturday, however, I couldn’t help notice that there was a lot of tension in the room. As you know, it was a pretty good crowd that night, customers who wanted to forget about life for a while by having some drinks and hearing some music. John, the bartender, provided the booze, as always, so they looked to you for the songs.
Of course, I don’t need to tell you that. You put what he did in the song, too. You had to be a big shot, didn’t you? Billy, that kind of thing is why people kept yelling at you all night. “Sing us a song, piano man! Sing us a SONG tonight!” they shouted. But instead of doing so, you simply shouted their words back to them and added a line about how you were making them feel all right. Which you weren’t. You were making them mad. People aren’t just in the mood for a melody, they’re in the mood for a legitimate composition with a competent arrangement. Are you stupid, Billy Joel?
They were annoyed, too, because the observations were as cruel as they were specific. Davy often discusses his plans for when he gets out of the Navy (it’s a steady paycheck although the rhyming-name thing annoys the hell out of him), but to hear you speculate that he would be there for life was a crushing blow. No one likes to think of himself as being at a dead end. Again, why the public humiliation? And our businessmen were irate about your description of them getting “stoned.” Do you not know the difference between drunk and stoned? Hint: One is acceptable businessman behavior, the other is illegal.
Even if you were to say they were getting drunk, that still would not be okay. As a matter of fact, just don’t sing about the businessmen. They’re nice guys and good tippers.
I guess I do owe you some thanks, however, for singing about the drink called “Loneliness.” That’s a terrible name for a drink. I’m renaming it “Banana Mambo.” More festive.
As to our waitress’s efforts to get a graduate degree in political science or Paul’s attempt at pioneering the literary genre of real-estate fiction, Jesus, Billy, leave them alone.
So for next week: Please sing some actual songs. That’s what you were hired to do. You’re the fucking piano man.
Thanks,
Anthony Cacciatore
Manager
REJECTED
PROPOSALS
SUPER BOWLS XI TO XV
SUPER BOWL XI—JANUARY 9, 1977
• A notable proposal called for The Sex Pistols, purveyors of “punk rock” to perform, although the Committee was unclear whether the group would play music, refuse to play music, inject themselves with heroin, or simply assault the crowd at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. The Committee was more positive about the proposed finale of the act, which would involve young actor Sylvester Stallone, star of Rocky, to run on the field and beat members of The Sex Pistols into unconsciousness.
• Scheduling conflicts arose, however, and the spot was ultimately given to the Los Angeles Unified All-City Band. Because people love marching bands!
• Carol Channing’s offer to return for a third appearance was politely declined.
SUPER BOWL XII—JANUARY 15, 1978
• The rock group known as the Eagles submitted a proposal to perform a medley of their hit songs in a show that would involve fairly large and complicated set pieces, including:
• A corner in Winslow, Arizona, and a flatbed Ford
• Fences and a Desperado to ride upon them
• A “cheatin’ side of town” (perhaps the end zone?)
• A counteroffer to the group was made wherein they would simply play the songs. This offer was declined.
• Tony Randall showed up dressed as the deceased Elvis Presley, but was rebuffed at the gate.
• A college drill team was brought in along with Al Hirt. The Committee loves Al Hirt. Nothing says football like Al “Mr. Super Bowl” Hirt.
SUPER BOWL XIII—JANUARY 21, 1979
• The “Disco Forever” proposal held a lot of promise. People like music and people like dancing, so there was some potential there. Where the Committee felt the proposal crossed a line was the idea of converting the Miami Orange Bowl into a replica of Studio 54, complete with Bianca Jagger riding a white horse, 5,000 Truman Capotes gossiping with 5,000 Andy Warhols, and an ounce of cocaine (with silver spoon) to be placed under each audience member’s seat. The Committee was confident that a more practical disco tribute could be produced in years to come when disco would still be popular and relevant.
• Caribbean bands hired. Why the hell not?
SUPER BOWL XIV—JANUARY 20, 1980
• The overwhelming box office success of the divorce film Kramer vs. Kramer and the producers’ desire to appeal to Oscar voters led to a proposal for a Kramer vs. Kramer halftime show. The idea was quite simple. All fans seated on the western side of the Rose Bowl would be given latex masks of Meryl Streep. Fans on the eastern side would receive latex masks of Dustin Hoffman. At halftime, all fans would don their masks and child actor Justin Henry would walk, completely alone, to the center of an empty football field. Then the fans would have to yell their best arguments as to why Justin Henry should come and sit with them. Whoever makes the best arguments wins. The Committee feared a weepy crowd would be unable to enjoy the game.
• A preemptive note was sent to Tony Randall advising him against any potential tribute to the late John Wayne or Zeppo Marx.
• The Committee, unable to really break with the past, brought back the Grambling State University marching band for one more game. No regrets.
SUPER BOWL XV—JANUARY 25, 1981
• The Committee was happy to learn that the administration of newly elected President Ronald Reagan was interested in creating a halftime show, but found the ideas to be difficult to execute:
• The Trickle Down Cascade effect, wherein millions of dollars would be released from the top of the Superdome to “trickle down” to fans below, was tested. Results of the test indicated that the money would be simply grabbed by the people who got to it first.
• The administration’s idea of giving each fan a large bottle rocket to simulate the upcoming arms buildup also seemed dangerous, especially in a domed stadium. The administration pointed out that with everyone armed, there was actually less of a chance of anyone lighting off a bottle rocket, but that made no sense.
• Also, the American hostages recently released in Iran were not interested in reenacting their own capture while Li
onel Richie and Barbra Streisand sang.
• Committee just hired the Southern University marching band instead.
A SERIES OF E-MAILS AMONG THE ALIENS ON E.T.’S SHIP
From: Commander
To: All Crew
Comrades,
I’m afraid I have to confirm the speculation that has been going around the ship. In our hasty departure from Earth, it appears we have left one of our number behind. The crew member known as Eetay is presently not accounted for and we are left to assume that he is still on the surface of the planet. He must have wandered too far from the craft while gathering samples of the native flora and not returned in time.
In addition to returning the ship to the planet to rescue Eetay, we will immediately begin a re-evaluation of our departure procedures to ensure that this does not happen again.
Be vigilant.
From: First Mate
To: Commander, All Crew
Obviously, the error here is a serious one. Like all crew members, I wish that this had not occurred.
However, I invite you to consider whose fault this truly was. Everyone else made it back to the ship in plenty of time. Being on this ship means having certain duties and responsibilities and Eetay failed to meet those responsibilities.
From: Commander
To: First Mate, All Crew
Um … Okay. So what’s your point, Dan?
From: First Mate
To: Commander, All Crew
It’s going to cost a great deal of fuel to return to Earth, land the craft, locate Eetay, and rescue him. It’s also very dangerous since, as we understand from Earth’s TV transmissions, everyone has a gun and most of them are stupid. Given that this is a crewman lacking in common sense and that he’s not likely to prove to be all that valuable a crew member in the future, shouldn’t we at least consider, you know, leaving him there? Chalking it up to an acceptable loss, in business terms?
From: Commander
To: First Mate, All Crew
Absolutely not! I’m really surprised that you would even suggest this. We don’t leave people behind, even the most inept crew members. Please set a course for Earth at once.
From: Crew member #641
To: All
I gotta say, I kind of agree with Dan. I have never liked that dude. I worked with him on the crystal fuel ports for a while and he just talked weird. Like, I would be talking about my family, sports, whatever. And talking like a normal person. But then Eetay would talk in this weird slow way, like, “Fuuuuuuellll Pooooorts.” And I’m all, “Yeah, have you heard anything I’ve been talking about?”
From: Crew member #344
To: All
Did he ever get empathic with you guys? He did it to me once, WHILE I WAS SLEEPING, MIND YOU. And then I had this weird link to him where we felt the same things and I understood the loneliness and despair in his heart. It was awful. God, I hate that dude.
From: Crew member #819
To: All
And have you noticed that when he tries to heal something with his finger, it glows all red? What’s up with that? What a freak!
From: Commander
To: All
Are we really going to go there? Do I need to send everyone back to diversity and sensitivity training again? Just because we don’t have anyone from HR on this particular ship doesn’t mean we don’t have to follow all the policies set forth in the Employee Handbook. The fact remains that Eetay is one of us and we take care of our own.
From: First Mate
To: All
Commander, I totally respect your point of view. And you are the commander so what you say goes.
From: Commander
To: All
Thank you. Full speed ahead.
From: First Mate
To: All
It’s just … I want to make sure you recognize that this might be a kind of opportunity. Eetay is freaky looking. Remember when we landed on that one planet and there were all these local girls there and things were going reeeeeeally well between us and them and they were super cute? But then Eetay shows up. He’s naked. He’s all wrinkly looking. He’s moving his weird long neck up and down. And then before you knew it, boom, the babes all had to “get up early in the morning.” Dude totally ruined it for us!
From: Commander
To: All
I do remember that night. That was awful.
Look, if we do this, and it looks like everyone wants it to happen, we need to make sure we all keep the same story.
So: He was eaten by a bear. Okay? That’s what we say to everyone. We send back pictures of a bear. People will totally buy it.
I think he lived alone in a small apartment. I doubt he’ll be missed.
From: First Mate
To: All
Oh crap. He’s calling. I can see the caller ID on the phone. How did he even get our number?
From: Commander
To: All
To Earth, then. Please delete all e-mails on this subject. Shit.
From the Desk of The Power
Easy Street, America
July 4, 2005
Dear Chuckdee, Flavor Flavor,
Professor Griffin, and everyone else,
Hey, guys! What’s up? Or should I say “what up”? Is that how you hippity-hoppers and homeyboys and gangerbangers are saying it now? Never mind. I’ll get right to the point.
Do we have to keep fighting like this? Or, more specifically, do you really want to keep fighting me? I don’t mind indulging you if that’s what you guys want. It’s not hurting me, of course, since I am The Power. But I just wonder if you might consider giving it up. I mean, this has been going on for a while and I’m still very much here.
Do you realize that you’ve been fighting me since 1989? Now, that’s sixteen years ago. Babies born that summer are grown-ups now! So much has happened since then. Presidents have come and gone, the Soviet Union collapsed. But not The Power! Honestly, guys, I’d really like to be your friend and hang out with you at your rapping concerts. It’s time to put this behind us.
And I wonder if I might offer you some constructive criticism. Among the problems, I think, has been your clarity of precisely why you were fighting me and how you intended to wage that fight. Like when you say: “As the rhythm designed to bounce / What counts is that the rhymes / Designed to fill your mind.”
Pardon my frankness but what the hell are you talking about there? It rhymes, but what are people supposed to do with that information? If you’re trying to fight someone, especially someone like me, you need clear action items. Maybe “Carjack The Power’s limousine after an important board meeting,” or “Expose The Power’s malfeasance in a national publication,” or maybe “Propose a better alternative to The Power and let the people decide.” Those are just off the top of my head! Look, take this advice or don’t, but before dismissing it just remember The Power must know what he’s doing, right? Thus the name. Think about it.
Let’s take a look at your other complaints. You don’t care for Elvis Presley. That’s fine. I would encourage you to rewatch the ’68 comeback special, but whatever. And say what you want about Elvis (was he really a straight-up racist? I didn’t know that!), but he’s certainly not part of The Power. By the way, I agree with you on John Wayne. I’ve never seen the appeal. Where was the range? So we don’t really have a quarrel there, do we?
And what do you have against Bobby McFerrin? Yes, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” was the No. 1 “jam,” but honestly, it’s a really great song—the things that man does just with his voice are amazing. A lot of people found it fresh and innovative and not all Grumpy Gus like some people’s music (hint hint! ha ha, just kidding, but I have a point). The success of Bobby’s song had nothing to do with me. I’m involved with a lot of things in this world but the charts aren’t my department! I could introduce you guys to Bobby if you like. He’s a super-nice fellow, and maybe you could record some music together! I’d buy a record of that!
Ho
nestly, guys, I want to end this thing. I’d love to have you up to the country house for a weekend if you have the time. (I know you do, Flavor Flavor! With the big clock and all!) So what’s it going to take? I’d be more than happy to call someone at the post office and get some more of your heroes on stamps. Who would we be talking about—Grandmaster Flashy? Eddie Murphy? M&M? I haven’t been keeping up with your whole scene so just let me know.
Okay, guys, I’ll “rap” at you later!
Love,
The Power
INTERVIEWS ABOUT THE GOOFY-PLUTO CONUNDRUM
MICKEY MOUSE Look, things were a lot simpler before. I was created in ’28 and I was just this mouse, you understand? I mean, not JUST a mouse, obviously. I could walk erect, steer a boat, whistle, bounce up and down rhythmically. And before long, Minnie was created.
MINNIE MOUSE I’ve never been crazy about the Adam-Eve comparison, but I admit that it’s pretty hard to shake. I didn’t really want to play into it, per se, but we were the only two of our species. After a couple of years, I guess someone somewhere wanted to amp up the “playing house” angle so they gave me a dog. That was Pluto. Originally—a lot of people don’t know about this—Pluto was my dog. He was a cute dog. So cute, in fact, that he was transferred over to Mickey. That should tell you a lot about how this universe works. That’s just a reality that I’ve always had to live with. I’m meant to be more of an accessory to Mickey than an individual. Keeping Pluto would have helped me develop more as a character, but my biggest problem is that I don’t have a penis.