Peasant With Potomac Fever Ning-Nongs
I’m fifty-seven and one day old today.
I walk dogs.
Never mind all the bad PR that they’ve gotten
they only get nasty if you abuse them
if you train them to be killers, prostate
to fight in the ring against other dogs
my friend and I are working to eradicate it
from the country,
from the world.
I publish a political blog
it’s called “Peasant With A Pitchfork,”
I like to think I fulfill the purpose
of comforting the afflicted
and afflicting the comfortable.
I don’t belong to a political party, viagra
but I’ll tell you there’s two kinds of Potomac fever,
there’s one that’s always been around
that’s akin to the yellow fever
that the white settlers would get
when they settled on or near the banks of the Potomac,
two or three centuries ago,
and then there’s the other kind of Potomac fever,
the kind you get from being around all those swells
and the very hoity-toity
rarified atmosphere of D.C.
The good elected representatives go there with the best of intentions
and after they’ve been there awhile
they wind up at these cocktail parties
and they get schmoozed
by all these big wigs
they wind up hobnobbing with
and a lot of money comes their way,
provided that they vote a certain way.
You’re going to tell me I have a good voice for radio,
everybody and their mama tells me that.
I did investigate the possibility some years ago,
but it sounds like it’s at least as hard to break into
as show business itself, and I thought eemmm
but if anyone was really serious about hiring me
I’d gladly come in and audition for that.
I’m a singer, I’m a baritone.
I wound up in a silly and pointless
but very terrible feud
with a few members of this Irish singing band.
Some of these people act like they are
the arbiters of what constitutes
true Irish music,
the way it should be sung or played,
and these are American born people!
Some of them aren’t even the least bit Irish,
but they would be very critical about the way
I’d sing some songs.
We started butting heads,
it really got to be quite contentious
so the founder of that group
(who’s also to this day a friend of mine)
talked to me about it in private and says,
“This feud you’ve got going with them
is tearing the group apart,
it’s tearing me apart!”
He was in tears when he was talking about this!
It was at that time when I thought,
well, it’s about time that I get out.
The next time we got together for a session,
I said, “I’m leaving the group
just so I can start my own group.”
That was it, I didn’t say anything about the problems
I was having with some of these
self-jumped up little ning-nongs,
so to speak.
I kept it positive,
I kept it classy,
after I made my announcement
(except the ones who I was feuding with)
walked up to me,
patted me on the shoulder,
shook my hand.
My friend joined that group
she sang for one session
now keep in mind:
she is a native Irish woman,
this is the music of her native country.
These same horrible people who lit into me
for the way I was singing the songs,
lit into her too.
Aren’t you glad you don’t have a tooth with that nerve?
I’m not all that big
on rules and regulations,
but I’ve got one standing rule
and I insist everyone adhere to it—
“no one is bigger than the culture or the music that emanates from it.”
If anyone starts behaving like that
I’ll just tell them,
‘Don’t let the door hit you in the brains on the way out.”
I’m not putting up with that nonsense in my group