(with sincere apologies to Frank Zappa)
The Gummit man, he come to me,
He said, “I’m outasight!
“If get in bed with me, little firm,
“You’ll reach Nirvana, all right.”
“Our blackity programs, the ones you don’t see,
“Are zoomy, weird, spendy and spry;
“Why don’t you sign on the dotted line
“And serve your country on wry?!”
Mojo Rider — Who you jivin’ with that Contract Debris?
I signed us all up and received the Big Task,
But, in a sign of the Age we inhabit,
We also received, if it could be believed,
The junk mail of corporate habit.
From brochures on galactic cruisers,
And emails encrypted by dwarves;
To PowerPoints about flying submarines
And subsonic laser-beam noise;
From bionic bathrooms and helmets,
To folding assault boats with wings;
From top soldiers molded in mighty vats,
To the last arguments of kings.
We saw what was liked and encouraged
And nourished with money and gusto;
So we cooked up a program
That made us say “Goddamn!”
And painted its picture “just so.”
We made them a monster to vanquish the world;
It rumbled and bumbled and boomed;
I can’t say exactly just what it did,
For then, of course, I would be doomed.
It cost a gazillion and dazzled the brass;
What the tech press could see just enraged them;
We sweated it all, both the tech and the show,
‘Cause the entire performance — we staged them.
Now who should we spy but the FBI
Just as we packed up the parts;
They accosted us all
And showed us the wall
And ushered us into their cars.
So now I sit waiting behind a dull grating
Those who once knew me
Would look right on through me
Should they even come see me at all.
You see, it’s not really the crime
Or the doing of time
That casts such a pall on a bloke;
No, the cardinal sin, the fix being in,
Is letting yourself become BROKE.
…Now who you jivin’
With that Contract Debris?…
…Is that a Sears weapon or a real weapon?…
No, it looks good on you…really…
©2013 Steve Weintz