Our Man Golby

There once was a man named Golby
Who thought he was Obi-Wan Kenobi
Fightin’ evil from DC to Nairobi
But one day he flew too high
Tryin’ to be One with the sky
Perhaps it was the Obnoxious Bastard
Who turned him into a one-finger tapper
But we all know why the pain is drummin’
He was taken down by the sight of a woman.

Fly on Golby fly on
O’er the Vatican to burnin’ Rome
For your words are better n liquor in us
And where would we be without our very own Icarus.

Friday Five
(In honor of two of my favorite blog girls)

1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith?

Yes, a Barn—a fundamentalist Baptist barn. My 12 brothers and I would take turns being the Baby Jesus and whenever one of us would have a bad thought or do a bad deed, our parents would baptize us in the pig trough—and all our sins were forgiven. The time spent under water was in direct relation to the severity of the evil deed. Unfortunately, I lost several of my rowdier brothers and sisters. Thankfully, though, there were more where they came from since birth control was not an option and somebody needed to work the fields.

I will never forget waking to a hole in the roof and the brightest sunshine you could imagine. And how shocked we were to find one of my brothers missing. Apparently, he actually was the baby Jesus. Anyway, thanks to my strong upright upbringing, I know that all my sins will be washed away and that one day I shall escape.

2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not?

Oh no, I drink bottled water now. But sometimes when my ex- is driving I am overcome by an inexplicable desire to pour water all over and cross myself.

3. What do you think happens after death?

Well, that depends on who died. Some people cry. Especially if they were left out of the will. Some people grieve. Some people drink. Some people party in the streets. But most people thank god it wasn't them and then come back as the asshole they hated the most.

4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)?

Most definitely good old-fashioned tent meetings. Nothing like getting down on the floor and speakin’ in tongues. When your eyes roll back in yo’ head, you know you’ve seen the light. I FEEEEEEEEEEEEL GOODDDDDDDDDDD.

5. Do you believe people are basically good?

Oh yes—if there’s something they want. I think people have to be taught to be good. Watchin’ your brothers held too long in the pig trough will put the fear in ya. But then, in order to survive, one must forget all they learned about being good and kick the person’s ass that’s in line for that promotion.

A Conversation

Irina from the Sopranos
Her English as a Second Language Teacher


Teacher: You say here in your essay on What the American Dream means to you that you’ve only been in this country for 9 months. So tell me, Irina, how is it a poor girl from Ukraine is able to bed both Tony Soprano and Boone from Animal House in such a short time?

Irina: Huh? Animal House?

Teacher: Oh sorry, it’s an American movie. I mean Councilman Zellman.

Irina: Oh. I love American movie. So…how you say…nave?

Teacher: Knave? Knavish?

Irina: Navvvee.

Teacher: Naïve?

Irina: Yes, naïve. To not like the French so much, you sure do use very French words.

Teacher: Well, yes…when we’ve exhausted all other possibilities.

Irina: You’re hanging spaghetti from my ears, teacher.

Teacher: Oh no, oh no…I would never do that, Irina. So how did you come to bed both Tony Soprano and Councilman Zellman?

Irina: To bed? Oh..oh you mean fuck.

Teacher: (blushing) Uh…we don’t use that word, Irina. Not in formal essays or um in…

Irina: Why not? You use it for everything else? It can be noun, adjective, adverb, verb.
Fuck me. Fuck you. Fucking fuckhead. Fuck off. Fuck up. Fuck down. Fuckin’ A. Fuckin’ B. You driving me fucking crazy. You Americans are so funny with your fucking word fuck. We have very more curse words than you. English is very..how you say….poor language.

Teacher: Hmmm…now back to the question.

Irina: Oh, just lucky I assume.

Teacher: Lucky? In what way?

Irina: Oh well, I reach the American dream very very faster.

Teacher: The American Dream?

Irina: Horrorshow. Yes. Were you see the Bachelor on TV?

Teacher: Uh..no..haven’t seen that.

Irina: Well, it’s very very funny. All this woman prostitute themselves on national tv to marry some man they do not know because he has bananas of money.

Teacher: Ah…a bunch, yes…and you correlate this with the American dream?

Irina: Yes, I love America. It’s why I love Tony Soprano. America is beautiful place.
All you have to do is make lots and lots of money and nobody cares how you do it!!! And look at your president! Anybody can be president in this country! If you know right people, you can be John Wayne. And save the world from the bad guys. And ride off into the sunset straight to the bank. I love America. Only place in the world where Julia Roberts can walk the streets one day and the next marry Richard Gere!!!

Teacher: But Irina…Tony Soprano has a conscience. He becomes all weepy at the sight of ducks. He goes to therapy!

Irina: Oh yes..yes! This is what makes him very charming. Like a little boy. Like America. He has conscience about little, stupid things. But never loses the big picture. Of ruling the world through brute force! Therapy! That’s a very funny construct. In my country, we talk to friends. We drink vodka. We talk. We forget. We talk. Only in America you ignore your neighbors, except in cars, when you try to kill each other on your way to the last movie about blowing up and killing people.

Teacher: Ah…hmmm. Interesting. I’ve known quite a few people in therapy, Irina.

Irina: Were they fix?

Teacher: Um…well, they are still going.

Irina: What a country! So nave.

Teacher: Naïve.

Irina: Yes. If you don’t understand it, destroy it or throw money at it. Or destroy it. And then build McDonalds. Yes, more McDonalds will save the world! I love America!

Teacher: Hmmm…but Jung. I’m quite a believer in Dr. Jung. Are you…

Irina: Oh Jung…yes. A dreamer. Like Marx.

Teacher: Marx?

Irina: Yes, Marx, Jung, Jesus, Gandhi. All dreamers.

Teacher: Yeah, but…

Irina: But not practical. This is material world. You Americans are right. Ignorance and greed and the will to power. This is all there is. Madonna knows. She made it to top with the oldest trick in the world. And all the woman of the world praise her as genius!!! Talent? Ha. Shake a little ass. Anna K. knows!

Teacher: But American women are not just sex symbols now. They have made some serious strides towards equality. You have to give them that.

Irina: Equality??? Woman has always controlled from bedroom. They need to control from boardroom, too? Equality. Seems like a huge fall to me.

Teacher: No, it’s not about control, Irina. It’s about choice. It’s about freedom of choice. Options.

Irina: Options. Stock option? You Americans are very funny with your illusions of freedom and rightness.

Teacher: Now wait, Irina…This country is not perfect. But the concept of freedom and the rights of the individual are great, noble ideas.

Irina: Freedom to what?

Teacher: Freedom to…freedom to…well….freedom to say George Bush is an idiot!

Irina: Hahaha. We could say that, too! Even in the old days of Communism, we could go to the Red Square and shout Ronald Reagan sucks!

Teacher: Ha. See….

Irina: Freedom to be an individual? You are no different than the old Communists. Only your freedom is prostituted to Corporations rather than to the Kremlin.

Teacher: What?

Irina: You give your whole life to some Corporation. You call this freedom?

Teacher: Well, we have choices.

Irina: Yes, you have Survivor. You have Lottery. You have Nightly News. You have Jerry Springer. I love it.

Teacher: And we can say whatever we want!

Irina: Ah, freedom to speak. It’s true there were nasty Gulags and people were afraid to say anything political. There they took the word very seriously. Here they let the market take care of the word. They realize that anything beautiful or intellectual will never have a chance in the market. It won’t sell!!! Meantime, everybody prostitutes whatever they had of beauty and intellect and soul and dignity to the Corporation…because..you know it won’t sell…but…if by some chance, an idea actually did somehow come into consciousness…and idea that might actually be put into action and challenge the how you say status quo…you can bet they will sleep with fishes.

Teacher: Hmmm…I thought you said you loved America.

Irina: Oh, I do…I do…. And even though you have many gangs of youth here and broken family and many many people don’t have healthcare…and the rich get richer. At least everybody knows the game, do whatever it takes to get in the right neighborhood. The one under Tony Soprano’s protection. So when middle-class white people start getting shot, you know, Tony will be able to protect you. Greed, ignorance, survival. Yeah, that’s what it’s about. The whole world’s gonna be American…til Daddy takes the T-bird away.

Teacher: Ha. What are you doing after class?

Irina: Haha. You can’t afford me. And Tony’s a very jealous man.
Also, I don’t exist.

Teacher: I know the feeling.

This Train

I dreamed i was on a train
Rippin' through the bowels
People came and went
Though I never did
Every day at the same time
I guess it was time
I do not know
But as they came and went
They became more distorted
With age and comin' and goin'

Though the train never stopped
The only thing that remained constant
Was me and some smelly homeless guy
Who kept smilin’ that nasty smile

Thru the speakers came a song:
Gimme that old time religion
Gimme that old time religion—

Hey…where are we going?
Do you know how long?

You’ve got to cut off the head.

What?

The head.

Cut it off.

What?


It was good enough for Nero
It was good enough for Nero
It was good enough for Nero
And it's good enough for me.

What head?

It was good enough for Johnson
It was good enough for Johnson
It was good enough for Johnson
And it's good enough for me.

It’s the only way to stop it.
It’s the only way to find peace.

Peace? What peace?
I’m fine.

Oh yeah. Why don’t you get off then?

It was good enough for Nixon
It was good enough for Nixon
It was good enough for Nixon
And it's good enough for me.

I will. When the train stops, I’m gettin' off.

You’re dead.

What?

Look at yourself.

Makes me want to fuck everybody.
Makes me want to fuck everybody.
Makes me want to fuck everybody.
And it's good enough for me.

It has killed sons and daughters.
It has killed sons and daughters.
It has killed sons and daughters.
And it's good enough for me.

Here, take this.
What?
Take it.
What the fuck do I want with a knife?

It was good enough for my daddy
It was good enough for my daddy
And it’s good enough for me

Cut open the bags.
Bags? What bags?
Do you want these soldiers to forever roam the night?

It will do when innocents are dying.
It will do when innocents are dying.
It will do when innocents are dying.
And it's good enough for me.

Who’s singin’?
What is this fuckin’ music?
Where is it comin’ from?

From him.

Him? Him who?

Cut open the bags!!!!

It will take us all to heaven.
It will take us all to heaven.
It will take us all to heaven.
And it's good enough for me.

I cut the bags. And 50,000 mangled dead do rise. Salutin’.
Crowdin’ all around. Salutin’…these dead soldiers.

It was good enough for John
It was good enough for John
It was good enough for John
And it’s good enough for me.

Open the door!
Open the door!

I open the door and they disappear, cryin’ out:

Cut the head! Cut the head! Cut the head! Set us free!

I’m alone.
The train whips through the bowels.
I head toward the head, knife in hand.

The livin' dead are sproutin’ in the earth.
Slowly gainin’ rubbery girth.
Emergin’ in true grotesque style.
Meetin’ at their Memorial.
Marchin’ on the white house.
Chantin’ not this time!

I’ve found the driver.
He’s singin’ and smilin’.
His pallid figure
A fluorescent green glow.

John Wayne?
Is that you?

Whattaya got there? A butter knife?
Come to give me a shave?

Give me that old time hubris
Tis the old time hubris
Tis the old time hubris,
And it's good enough for me

What did you say?

I said. Come to give me a shave?

We need your help, John.

Help?

Your men, they’re stormin’ the white house.

What? Not my men! Shut your mouth.

He slaps me across the head and I go to the ground.

John, they killed you, too.
All that patriotic shit and they killed you with their radiation.

Bah, boy…shut your mouth!
I’m drivin’ this train. And I always will.
You think you can kill me soldier?? You want my neck???
Here! Here it is! Take it! Take it!!!

The slow ugly living dead are no match for the rifles of Bush.
One by one, they are taken down.
One by one, they fall back to the earth.
Bush is on the campaign trail for a fellow Republican.
They’re singin’ Gimme that Old Time religion together.
The talking heads at the Fox network are in tears.
It's the perfect Sunday.

It will take us all to heaven.
It will take us all to heaven.
It will take us all to heaven.
And it's good enough for me.

Meanwhile, the innocent wait patiently
to get off a train driven by
a headless cowboy who refuses to die.