Halloween 73

Howdy, folks! Happy Halloween to each and every one of you.

Okay, before we get going, I'd like to introduce the members of the group and make sure all of their stuff is working. Then we'll take care of business. Down here on the end is Bruce Fowler on trombone . . . And right here in the middle is Mr. Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and vocals . . . Over there in the corner with her Halloween jerkin and her little red sticks with the fiberglass sandals, Ruth "Smelling Good Between The Legs" Underwood, on vibes . . . marimba . . . bongos and stuff—hit it, Ruth! . . . alright . . . timpani . . . bass drum . . . gong, large . . . gong, small . . . okay. Ruth has asked me to inform you that due to a technical error during our setup, one of the notes of the vibes are, well—we're missing a note, folks. So if some of her parts sound strange it's because the wire came out. And that gets her off the hook for all the notes that she'll play wrong anyway . . . Heh heh heh . . . Okay, right here in the back, partially covered by Napoleon's bod, is Ralph Humphrey on drumset #1 . . . and cowbells . . . And on drumset #2, Chester Thompson . . . On electric bass, Tom Fowler . . . And direct from San Francisco—where the police break into your recording session all the time—George Duke on multiple keyboards . . . And lurking over in the distance although you can't see him very well, direct from Indianapolis, Indiana, if we can just move the spotlight over just a little bit, Craig Eldon Pinkus, attorney at law . . . Alright, let me see if I'm in tune . . .

That'll do. Ladies and gentlemen, our program will begin with a brand new song that deals with the delicate subject of drug abuse and how it can damage your consciousness to the point where you, just like the character in this song, may be led to seek gratification in a Greyhound bus depot, near a locker and/or located somewhere by the 33rd seat, which is right in proximity to the doo-doo room on the bus. The name of that song is "Pygmy Twylyte." And then after that it goes into "The Idiot Bastard Son," and then . . . And especially for Halloween we have a new song that deals with the subject of cheap monster movies and giant spiders and things of that nature, and the name of that song is "Cheepnis." That's the first three. And when we get to "Cheepnis" let's don't do it as fast as we usually do so they can understand the words, okay? Here we go . . .

One, two, three, four . . .

Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte

Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite

Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight

Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte

Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete

Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney & he's fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite

The idiot bastard son:
(The father's a Nazi in Congress today . . .
The mothers's a hooker somewhere in L.A.)

The idiot bastard son:
(Abandoned to perish in back of a car . . .
Kenny will stash him away in a jar)
The idiot boy!

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend . . .
Warming his pew

Kenny will feed him & Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive & grow
And enter the world
Of liars & cheaters & people like you
Who smile & think they know
What this is about

(You think you know everything . . . maybe so)
The song we sing: Do you know?
We're listening . . .

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend . . .
Where are they now?

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
And then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
And then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
I took a turn around, I said: Can y'all see, oh?
Little strings on the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up? Yeah!
(And the flaps on the side of the moon)

The jelly & paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples & the wrinkles in the cardboard rock
And the canvas of the cave is too soft

The suits & the hats & the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan

Ladies and gentlemen,
The monster,
Which the peasants in this area call FRUNOBULAX
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
Grenades can't stop it
We may have to use NUCLEAR FORCE!
Everyone is advised to go to the shelter at once!

Run for your life! Come on! Come on!
Run for your life everybody! And go to the shelter!
Go to the basement! Run!

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me,
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut
An' the HORRIBLE EYE,
An' the HORRIBLE EYE,
An' the HORRIBLE EYE
Go rollin' around

Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
A little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
A little more cheepnis . . .

Thank you!

We're gonna play another assembly of items. This one starts off with an old song and then projects into new territories. The first song is called "The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue" . . . then it goes into a new song called "Kung Fu," which is highly abstract, and then it goes into sort of a blues for perverts—this being the big holiday for perverts in the United States—this song is called "Penguin In Bondage." And then after "Penguin In Bondage" it goes into a pseudo-Middle Eastern tune with bongos in it called "T'Mershi Duween." Then after "T'Mershi Duween" it goes into uh, "The Dog Breath Variations," and then . . . "Uncle Meat," and then after "Uncle Meat" it goes into "RDNZL." And that's it, folks.

Alright. Relax, hey, play just like it was a jazz concert, ladies and gentlemen! This goes out to Mr. Schaffer, who is so heavy at Down Beat, who was our go-go boy the last time we were here . . . may the Lord have mercy on his soul. "Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue" and the hits keep coming at you. Here we go . . . One, two, three, one, two . . .

 

 

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed

Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings

Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut & wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy

Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale

Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(You know, at the crime scene when the battery fails)

Well, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon

In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Now what is he gonna do with that hoop?)

You know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin' and there ain't no other
Birds around

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
TOO LOOSE

'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .

Hey!

 

 

Thank you.

Alright. We have a song for you now that deals with the tender subject of turkey farming. And the name of the song is "Village Of The Sun." After "Village Of The Sun" dwindles off into the distance, goes into uh, what does— oh, "Excentrifugal Forz," followed by "Don't You Ever Wash That Thing."

Ready? Not too fast. One, two, one, two, three, four . . .

Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow

It takes the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too,
I don't know how the people stand it,
But I guess they do
Cause they're all still there,
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Oh, the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun, son
(Sun Village to you
Ooo ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo
Village to you now)

Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now
Where Palmdale Boulevard, well
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn, well, & Barbecue now
(I heard it ain't there . . .
Well I hope it ain't true)
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-wahhh?

Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow

It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too,
I don't know how the people stand it,
But I guess they do
Cause they're all still there,
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun, son
(Sun Village to you, yeah!
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo)

 

Ladies and gentlemen
Watch Ruth
Ruth Underwood has been trying
To do something spectacular
Just for you
On Halloween
Do you think it's possible that Ruth would actually
Bring herself to . . .

Thank you! Ralph Humphrey on duck call and etceteras.

Thank you.

("Montana." "Montana." "Montana.")

Okay, we'd like to do a song from our new album, ladies and gentlemen. This is a song about dental floss. It's called "Montana." And at the end of "Montana" you'll hear—see this signal here? That—the twisted thing like that—that means "The Hook." We'll play "The Hook" at the end of "Montana." And then we'll go into another song called "Dupree's Paradise," folks.

One, two, one, two, three, four . . .

I might be movin' to Montana soon
Just to raise me up a crop of
Dental Floss

Raisin' it up
Waxen it down
In a little white box
That I can sell uptown

But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I just might grow me some bees
But I'd leave the sweet stuff
To somebody else . . . ah, but then, on the other hand I would

Save the wax
'N melt it down
Pluck some Floss
'N swish it aroun'

And I would have me a crop
An' it'd be on top (that's why I'm movin' to Montana)

Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a Dental Floss tycoon (yes I am)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune

I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
That's growin' on the prairie
Pluckin' the floss!
I plucked all day an' all nite an' all
Afternoon . . .

Oh, I'm ridin' a small tiny hoss
(His name is MIGHTY LITTLE)
He's a good hoss
Even though
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
Any way

I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
Even if you think it is a little silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks

I'm gonna find me a horse
Just about this big,
An' ride him all along the border line

With a
Pair of heavy-duty
Zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand
Every other wrangler would say
I was mighty grand

But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I might
Ride along the border
With my tweezers gleamin'
In the moon-lighty night
(A little tweezer glint!)

And then I'd
Get a cuppa cawfee
'N give my foot a push . . .
Just me 'n the pygmy pony
Over by the Dennil Floss Bush

'N then I might just
Jump back on
An' ride
Like a cowboy
Into the dawn to Montana

Movin' to Montana soon
(Yay-Yeah)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Oh, Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Oh, Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Wow, Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Oh, Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)

Contestant #2.

Be-bop! Be-bop!

Thank you very much for coming to the concert. Hope you liked it. Happy Halloween to each and every one of you. And don't— Be very careful when you go trick or treating. Don't take candy from strangers now. Good night.

Thank you.

Alright. We have— We have a song for you that is very, very new. It's almost up to date. The official title of this song is "The San Clemente Magnetic Deviation," but it has a subtitle and it also has a special ending where you are invited to sing along with us. We'll show you exactly how the ending goes. Let's see— I gotta get in tune, this is driving me nuts.

Alright, here's how the ending goes. You have to croon it now, ready?

DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it!
Wee-ooo

Alright. That's what happens at the end of the song—when I give you the cue you can croon along with it and feel integrated into the program. Meanwhile here's the front part of it.

One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use, yeah
Well, you'd take that sub-committee serious, boy
You might get a seizure from the evenin' news

Well
Millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
He could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!
Quadrophonic desperation!
You know, there'd be a cable all under your bed
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber
The FBI is gonna get your number

GONNA GET YA
GONNA GET YA
GONNA JUMP UP THE SUB-COMMITTEE AND GET YA!

Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number

I'm tryin' not to worry
You know, you know I'm tryin' not to care
But you know, I get delighted
When some microphone's not there
Can't have no private conversations
Nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' . . .

Wanna tell you one thing right now
Wanna tell you one thing right here
Wanna tell you about the government
Wanna tell you about the sin of government
World wide government
Everywhere
Tricky
Dickie
Full tricky
Cheating on you
Lying to you
Everyday
Every night
In the morning
In the evening
All the time
Everytime
You think
He's telling you the truth
You know what's wrong
You know what's right
You think it's right
You know what's wrong
You think
You dream about the things that's gonna happen but they never happen because everything that's right to you
Cheating to you
Trying to tell you what they gonna do but never doing what they really say

Let me tell you one more thing
Of the man they call Tricky
And he's tricky
That's why they call him Tricky
And his name is Dickie
But he's still tricky
One more thing
I wanna say right here
Cheating on you
Lying to you
Trying to get your name
Trying to get your number
Trying to find out where you're going
Where you're coming from
What you're gonna do
What you're thinking about
What you think you're gonna do
What you're thinking about every day and every night every time you get up in the morning
Don't you know . . .

They cheated
They lied
They said they had my number
Yeah, they cheated
You know they lied
They said that they wanna be

Now I wanna tell you one more thing
Bebe Rebozo
Tricky Dickie
Everybody in the world
Gonna listen right now
If you don't wanna
Go through this anymore
If you want
True
True
True
True
Hey
True, true, true . . .
What you want
True, hey
What you want
True, hey
What you want
True, hey
What you want
True, hey
What you want
True, hey . . .

Well . . .
All them big shots got all the money
Switzerland and everywhere
They're strictly from commercial
And if you find out they don't care
Oh Lord! (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord! (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord, Oh Lord (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord, Oh Lord (Oh Lord)
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Please . . .
Please don't make no reservation
In the GOP for me
Just take that San Clemente Magnetic Deviation
And make it say No Vacancy

Here it comes, folks!

DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
We mean it, Dick
Wee-ooo

Good night!

Hello, folks. Happy Halloween to you and yours. Welcome to the Auditorium Theatre on that greatest of American holidays—Halloween. We will try to make this Halloween very memorable for you.

Alright, folks. Down here—I'd like to introduce the members of the rocking teenage combo right now—over here, with the trombone and his pajamas in the bottom, Mr. Bruce Fowler . . . And here, with the tenor saxophone and the prominently displayed bolt in the middle of his forehead, Napoleon Murphy Brock, direct from San Jose . . . by way of Hawaii on vocals . . . And over there in the corner, still smelling just as fresh as she did during the first program, it's Ruth "Hot Lips" Underwood . . . Try your marimba, Ruth! . . . She has all the licks down, she's really a be-bop marimba player. Now the bongos . . . Martin Denny, ladies and gentlemen. And now, the timpani! . . . J. Arthur Rank! . . . Give 'em the gong, Ruth, give 'em the big gong . . . Hey! Give 'em the little cheap shitty gong now, Ruth . . . Hey! . . . Ladies and gentlemen, drumset #1, Ralph Humphrey . . . plus cowbells . . . Very good. Drumset #2, Chester Thompson . . . Electric bass, Tom Fowler . . . Multiple keyboard appendages, George Duke . . . Yes, he's a cute one, folks, he is a cute one. Right. (George: Thank you, honey.) Let me see if I'm working here . . . Nope . . . Nope . . . Nope . . . Nope . . .

"Cosmik Debris" . . . Oh, yeah. Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to trouble you with this, Ruth has requested once more, just as she did in the first program, that there is a note broken on the vibraphone—what note is it, Ruth? . . . It's an E. There is an invisible E on the vibraphone. You won't hear that one particular E. Some of her parts may sound cheesy to you. Most of you won't know the difference, but she's so sensitive she wants you to know that she's gonna try and work around it, okay? Now I gotta tune up.

One.

Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the name of our first tune is "Cosmik Debris." It's a song about gurus and their uselessness to society. Here we go. Hey! One, two, three, four . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?)
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me

Well, the Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Now, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said:
"You might not believe this, little fella, but it will cure your Asthma too!"
An' I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me
Georgie . . .

I've got troubles of my own, I said
An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"BUT I'VE GOT A KRISTL BOL!," he said
An' he held it to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
An' everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around,
I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just went down . . . "
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?)
Don't you know,
You could make more money as a butcher,
So don't you waste your time on me

Thank you! Thank you very much. Thank you, thank you. Woo-woo!

Alright, folks, we are going to play some material that we played in the first part of our program—there's a good reason for it—this band is only 'bout four weeks old—we don't know a lot of songs, you know, but the ones we know are amusing and this is Halloween, so you can get off on it. We'll try and make this part of our program as separate and unique from show #1 as possible but, let me tell ya, we're hurtin' for tunes! You know what I mean? So, we're gonna play "Pygmy Twylyte" again and all that stuff and uh, what's the— Oh, the whole rap about "Pygmy Twylyte" is it's a dope fiend song, and then it goes from "Pygmy Twylyte" into "The Idiot Bastard Son," as imagined by Nat King Cole, followed by—yes, yes, yes, our special Halloween song, which is called "Cheepnis," and tells the poignant story of a man's love for the nylon strings attached to a giant spider. Ready? "Pygmy"!

Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte

Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite

Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight

Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte

Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete

Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney & he's fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite

The idiot bastard son:
(The father's a Nazi in Congress today . . .
The mothers's a hooker somewhere in L.A.)

The idiot bastard son:
(Abandoned to perish in back of a car . . .
Kenny will stash him away in a jar)
The idiot boy!

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend . . .
Warming his pew

Kenny will feed him & Ronnie will watch
The child will thrive & grow
And enter the world
Of liars & cheaters & people like you
Who smile & think they know
What this is about

(You think you know everything . . . maybe so)
The song we sing: Do you know?
We're listening . . .

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend . . .
Where are they now?

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
And then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
I took a turn around, I said: Can y'all see, yeah?
The little strings on the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up?
(And the flaps on the side of the moon)

The jelly & paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples & the wrinkles in the cardboard rock
And the canvas of the cave is too soft

The suits & the hats & the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan

Ladies and gentlemen,
The monster,
Which the peasants in this area call FRUNOBULAX
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
Guided missiles can't stop it
We may have to use NUCLEAR FORCE!
Everyone is adviced to go the shelter at once!

Run! Run for your life!
Run! Run for your life!
Everybody! Run! Go to the shelter!

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me,
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut, yeah
An' the HORRIBLE EYE,
An' the HORRIBLE EYE,
A HORRIBLE EYE
Rollin' around

Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis . . .

Thank you.

Alright. Let's do "I'm The Slime" . . . plus "Big Swifty" . . . A medley of two, "I Am The Slime" plus "Big Swifty" . . . Okay? Hope we still remember how to play this. Here we go!

I am gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I'm the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you

I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I am the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I'm the slime oozin' out
From your TV set

You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help . . . no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold

That's right, folks . . .
Don't touch that dial

I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

Thank you.

Thank you very much. Alright. We have a song now that we did as an encore for the last show, but it works just as well in the middle of the program. It's a topical tune, it has something to do with that subject that we all know and love—the Watergate hearings and the attendant bullshit that goes along with it. The name of the song is "The San Clemente Magnetic Deviation," and I'll tell you a little bit about the history of the tune right now—not that you always wanted to know, but, there's— There's a mysterious thing that happens when you fly in the airplane, you see. They're called the magnetic deviations, and the, uh—I forgot what the name of the federal agency is that regulates all that stuff, but, they send out bulletins to pilots that tell 'em where these magnetic deviations are. And on the map—this, this is true, folks, a little information for ya—on the map it shows areas where if you fly through it in the plane— Shut the fuck up, you little geek! . . . If you fly through these areas in a plane it will cause your compass to deviate more than five degrees thereby making it hard to navigate. So, they have just informed the pilots recently that over San Clemente they have—two or three more of these areas have just popped up, of extreme magnetic deviation. Now isn't that quaint? There you have it, folks. Here's the song. Happy Halloween.

One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use
Well, you'd take that sub-committee serious, boy
You might get a seizure from the evenin' news

Well
Millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
He could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!
Quadrophonic desperation!
You know, there'd be a cable all under your bed
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber
The FBI is gonna get your number

GONNA GET YA
GONNA GET YA
GONNA JUMP UP THE SUB-COMMITTEE AND GET YA!

Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Done got your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number

You know, I'm tryin' not to worry
Oh, I'm tryin' not to care
But you know, I get delighted
When some microphone's not there
Can't get no private conversations
Nowhere, nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' way . . .

I wanna tell you something right now
I wanna tell you something right here
I wanna tell you about the man up there
I wanna tell you about the man over there
The man in Washington
The man in San Clemente
The man over here
The man down there
I'm talking about Tricky
Tricky
Dickie
Tricky
Tricky
Talkin' 'bout Bebe
Talkin' 'bout Billy
Talkin' 'bout Bebe
Billy
Agnew
Tricky
Everybody that you ever put your trust in before
What you gonna do right now? You gotta look around and say, "Hey!"

What happened?
I put my X on that line
I put my X in that square for you, you said you're gonna do this
You said you're gonna do that
You promised me this
Promised me that
Promised me then
Told me when
Said how
Said when
Let me hear you say Tricky
Tricky (Tricky)
Tricky (Tricky)
Let me hear you say Tricky . . .
Let me hear you say Tricky . . .
Let me hear you say Dickie . . .
Tricky (Tricky)
Dickie (Dickie)
Tricky (Tricky)
Dickie (Dickie)
Tricky (Tricky)
Dickie (Dickie)
Tricky (Tricky)
Dickie
Trick
Dick

I want to tell you something about Tricky Dickie. He cheated! And he lied!

Cheated on you
Cheated on me
Cheated on them
Cheated on everybody all over the world

I'm gonna tell you something else about Dickie. He's gonna keep on cheating and lying.

Wait a minute . . .
How long we got here?
Three more years
One year to cheat
One year to lie
One year to scheme
One year to run around and say, "It wasn't me"
Another year to run around and say, "It was him"
Another year to burn up tapes
Another year to edit some tapes
Tricky Dickie's been cheating
Lying, yeah . . .

They cheated
They lied
They told me that they were gonna help me
They cheated
You know they lied
They said they wanted my number

Let me tell you just one more thing
What we gonna do from here?
What we gonna do next time?
What we gonna do when elections come along?
What we gonna do about Tricky?
What we gonna do about Dickie?
Are they going to impeach him?
Are they going to let him go?
Do we have to live with this?
Do we have to die with this?
Are we gonna die for it?
Are we gonna live for it?
What are we gonna do?
Let me hear you say Yeah!
Yeah!
Come on now, let me hear you say Tricky

Dickie eats shit

Wait a minute . . .
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah (He eats it)
Yeah (He eats it)
Yeah (He eats it)
Yeah (He eats it)
Wait a minute . . .

Wait a minute, let's go on with the song already . . .

Oh . . .
All them big shots got all the money
Switzerland and everywhere
They're strictly from commercial
And if you find out they don't care
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord
Please don't make no reservation
In the GOP for me
Just take that San Clemente Magnetic Deviation
And make it say No Vacancy

My favorite part of the song and it goes like this . . .

DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
We mean it, Dick
We mean it, Bebe
We mean it, Billy
All you guys, stuff it!
Wee-ooo

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Alright, let's see. Uh, we have another new event for you. Which one would it be? I'll tell you what, let's, let's do uh, "Farther Oblivion" right now. Heh heh. This is the new uh, improved version of a song that we played for you when we were here before. This is called "Farther Oblivion," with be-bop mid-section.

Alright. Now you have to picture yourself in a very suave uptown swanky sort of jazz club, you know, where everybody really knows what's happening. And we're gonna groove right through the 1st Movement, you're ready? One, two, three, one, two . . .

 

Ladies and gentlemen, Bruce Fowler, with a genuine jazz avant-garde jazz trombone solo. Now as if that weren't enough for Halloween, Bruce Fowler has invented a special imported Mormon jazz ballet, which is brought to us all the way from Salt Lake City, Utah, and he and his lovely assistant, Napoleon, are gonna demonstrate this fantastic relic of the be-bop age for you right here live on stage at the Auditorium Theatre. Pay close attention now. Don't take your eyes off their feet for a moment. Here they go.

This is be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that

Wait a minute!

Hey, it sort of sounds like be-bop but I'm not sure, George, it's so abstract.

George, let me tell you something, George, you are not gonna get any pussy in Chicago singing be-bop. You know what I mean?

Oh, yeah!
As I was saying . . .

Yeah. Now, that's ethereal, George. You know, the kids can get into that, it's sort of psychedelic with a rising upward motion.

George, George . . . George, it's growing on me. I think I— I think even I could learn to enjoy be-bop. Please, George, sing me some more be-bop.

Oh, that's so suave!

Oh, yeah!

But meanwhile, over in the corner, Ruth "Still Smelling As Good As The Last Show" Underwood is ready to play her hot be-bop lick on the marimba. Take it away, Ruth!

Rhapsodic!

Contestant #1, Ralph Humphrey! Contestant #2, Chester Thompson!

I wanna tell you one thing right here
Wanna tell you one thing right now
Well, you run around [and you're sure] you got a little gas
All you need is some [Earth Nine] Tonic
It'll cure your gas
Rheumatism
Funky feet
Bad breath
Bad ears
[...]
Bad hair
Yeah!

Thank you!

Okay. We're now going to play for you "Penguin In Bondage," "T'Mershi Duween," and uh— Go out, go out of "T'Mershi Duween" into "RDNZL." Think about it for a minute, see if you can execute that. You can do that? Okay, "T'Mershi Duween" goes into "RDNZL." Oh, calm yourself. Ready?

Tell you right now, folks, this is a song for perverts. One of the problems in society today is that nobody is writing enough songs for the perverts, you know? So if any of you people have a blue pencil or a lipstick and a brown paper bag, write a song for a pervert, make him or her happy this week. Especially on Halloween, pervert's special holiday. To every pervert in the audience tonight, we dedicate this to you. Take it away, Ruth, are you ready?

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed
(Over on the wet side of the bed)

Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings

Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut & wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy

Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale

Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(Oh, when that battery fail)

You must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon

In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Oh, she spied the hoop)

Lord, you know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin' and there ain't no other
Birds around

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
TOO LOOSE

'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .

Hey!

Thank you.

Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you're aware that there have been a rash of flying saucer sightings recently. All the people think they've finally come down here. This may or may not be true, it is also possible that they have—may have already come down here a long time ago and that the people who lived on top of the Andes in those good old days, actually carved some notches on the top of the hill to accommodate these strange craft that they might land. These are known in the trade as the "Inca Roads," they're chiseled out at the top of those mountains in a place called the Plains of Nazca. Ladies and gentlemen, George Duke will now sing you the haunting ballad "Inca Roads." Take it away, George . . .

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself

Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Thank you, honey!

Did a vehicle
(Look so cute tonight)
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Thank you very much for coming to the concert. Hope you enjoyed it. Happy Halloween, and good night.

Thanks, folks.

We're gonna play a collection of three old songs for you. "Son Of Mr. Green Genes," "King Kong," and "Chunga's Revenge."

Alright.

Thank you again, and good night!

 

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed

Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings

Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut & wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy

Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale

Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail

Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon

In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room

Lord, you know it must be a Penguin bound down
When you hear that terrible screamin' and there ain't no other
Birds around

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
TOO LOOSE

'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .

Ruth: The gong!
FZ: Don't be late.
Ruth: I can't do it!
FZ: You can do it.
Ruth: Ha ha ha ha ha!
FZ: You must do it.
Ruth: I will do it.
FZ: I know you will. Okay, beginning of "T'Mershi Duween."
Ruth: Wait a minute. I hate— You counted last time.
FZ: I know [...].
Ruth: But you still be [...]. Ha ha ha!
FZ: Okay. Who's counting this time?

Hey!

 

 

 

FZ: Good!
Ruth: Hey!
George: What about those— Oh, we don't make some noise [...].
FZ: Yeah, yeah. Mumble on the last [...]. Come out [...] mumbling. Okay.

Ooh, the way you love me, baby,
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Do you really wanna please me?
(You know I do)
Well, tell me why you do it
Well, I really wanna know
(Well, it wouldn't be right
For me to tell you tonight)
You better tell me right away
Or I'll dress up and go!
(Don't get mad
It ain't no big thing)
You better tell me right away,
Don't treat me cold
(HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!)

Well, funny you should mention it, but there are a lot of reasons why I would drag a girl such as yourself back to this plastic hotel room and rip you off for spare change to run a vibrating machine attached to this bulk-purchase, queen-size, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed and make you take off all of your little clothes until you were virtually stark raving nude, and make you assume a series of marginally erotic poses . . . involving a plastic chair and an old guitar strap, while I did a wee-wee in your hair and beat you with a pair of tennis shoes I got from Jeff Beck and it goes something like this . . .

Soundly about the tits and buttocks
Also in the cookie
With a cold wet face towel
Twirled and compact
To make it go snappy
When I pop it up you
All the time recording your whimpers and grunts
On my Sony cassette machine
So all the guys in the band
Can get off on the bus tomorrow

Soundly about the tits and buttocks
Also in the cookie
With a cold wet face towel
Twirled and compact
To go snappy
When I pop it up you
All the time recording your whimpers and grunts
On my Sony cassette machine
So all the other guys in the band
Can get off in the bus tomorrow

FZ: George "Beef" Duke.
George: Hey . . . That's right, I like beef.

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
Did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place
(FZ: Do it on the gong!)
To park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

FZ: Alright.
George: I think Ruth already do that.
Ruth: Ah-ah-hah.
FZ: Yes, yes.
George: I'll do that.
Ruth: [...]. We need you to do that, I can't . . .
George: Up with the lick. Hah hah . . .
FZ: I'll tell you what. I'll tell you what. I got a better proposal.
George: Both play the lick.
FZ: You both play the lick and then when they do it in seven she plays the changes.
George: Oh!
Ruth: Oh, good!
George: Solid!
Ruth: That's it. Oh, good!
FZ: Let me go to seven.
Ruth: Okay.
George: Yeah, but I forgot the changes, I haven't . . .
Ruth: Hah hah!
George: I think I . . . sort of . . .
FZ: On the seven.

George: [...] not playing the part.
FZ: It is real simple.
George: Yeah, but I forgot.

George: Okay, go ahead.
FZ: Ladies and gentlemen, here it comes again. George "Beef" Duke.

George: Thank you. Turn that sexy light on me, honey.
FZ: Alright. Now I'll tell you what. Hold it, hold it. Do you have a flexatone? Give that to Chester. [...] prop part, a little gong, you know. [...] sticks [...] ring of the gong [...] a little gong and a little . . .
Ruth: On that one?
FZ: Yeah.
Ruth: This one.
FZ: The big one, yeah. You know, just some atmospheric stuff [...]. Okay. Here we go. [...] croonie once again.

Do it again and do it some more
That's nasty for sure

FZ: Swanky!

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
(Ruth: Ha ha ha ha . . .)
Was it round
(This is serious, honey)
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

FZ: Here it comes once again, ladies and gentlemen . . . Direct from Monterey and all of the other hip places in California . . .

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Thank you, honey!

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the . . .

FZ: Okay. "Thank you, honey."

Thank you, honey.

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there . . .

George: Oh, I didn't play it that time!

Thank you, honey.

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill . . .

FZ: [...] the timpani.
Ruth: What note? Oh, please make it . . .
George: Oh, Db. The bass, Db.
FZ: [...] Db, Db [...].
Ruth: How about bass drum?
FZ: No. D.
Ruth: So what you want is a Db.
FZ: G.
Ruth: A G?
FZ: Yeah.
Ruth: Okay.
FZ: [...] a G, so [...] G. It sounds wrong as shit, but . . .
[...]
FZ: Did a vehicle . . . Well, here it comes for the last and final time, he's coming again, ladies and gentlemen, George "Beef" Duke . . .
George: Thank you, honey.

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there . . .

FZ: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!
George: Off the top?
FZ: [...] the intro with the atmospherics.
George: Oh, you— Off the top. Oh.

FZ: Oh, yeah. Isn't love grand. And speaking of love, ladies and gentlemen, from the city of love, with flowers in his hair, it's the nimble fingers of San Francisco's finest, George "Beef" Duke, with "Inca Roads." Take it away!

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Thank you, honey.

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there . . .
. . . was it something different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have a motor
Or was it something different

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
From somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

FZ: That was Bruce Fowler, ladies and gentlemen, and now to show that he's multi-talented, Bruce is now gonna give us the modernized exclusive version of the new be-bop Mud Shark dancing lesson . . .

Yeah, man . . . jazz . . .
Yeah, man . . . jazz . . .

This is be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that

Napoleon: Wait? Be-bop?
FZ: I thought [...] Mud Shark dancing lesson . . .

Oh, yeah . . .
As I was saying

FZ: Yeah, that's got a lilting rhythm too. Let's try it again, hey!

FZ: [...] after the dunt-dunt . . .
George: Okay.
FZ: Okay?
George: Yeah, I got some, I get some place . . .
FZ: [...]. "Be-Bop." One, two, three . . .

This is be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that

Napoleon: What? Hey, man . . .
FZ: Far out, far fucking out.

Oh, yeah . . .
As I was saying

Napoleon: That's better. Much better.
FZ: Yeah, that's really far out there.
George: Sure is, man.

Oh, yeah . . .

Ruth: What is it, what is it?
FZ: [...] bridge.
George: Hah hah hah hah!
Ruth: What're you doing? [...] that enough?
George: Hah hah hah . . .
[...]

FZ: Now remember, this thing happens anyplace. [...] warn up there. You ready? "This Is Be-Bop." One, two . . .

This is be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that

Oh, yeah . . .

Napoleon: Yes, that, that's much better.
George: Hey, man, as I was saying, man, you know what I mean, man . . .

Ruth: Ha ha ha!

Oh, yeah . . .

Wait a minute, I wanna tell you one thing right now
That man over there
That man over here
[...]
And him
You
And one and one is eleven
Two and two is twenty-two
And I'm gonna say something else . . .

This ain't no . . .
This ain't no be-bop
This is jazz
This ain't no jazz
This is be-bop
[...]
What is it?
Is it real?
In this morning
Is it right?
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah . . .

One thing I wanna tell you right now
Well ain't no be-bop no more
I'm gonna get down . . .

FZ: You gotta answer him back! What are we saying?
George: Oh, oh . . .
Ruth: [...]

FZ: Okay. "This Is Be-Bop." One, two, three, four . . .

This is be-bop
Even though you think it doesn't sound like that

Napoleon: Wait a minute, this ain't no be-bop . . .

Oh, yeah . . .

Napoleon: Yeah, that's right . . .
George: As I was saying, man, you know what I mean . . .
?: That's be-bop.
George: [...] you know what I mean . . .

One thing I wanna tell you right now
[...] singing be-bop
[...] singing jazz
As I know
Be-bop
Jazz!
Be-bop!
Answer!
(Damn fool just right. Jazz!)
Jazz!
(Jazz!)
Be-bop!
(Be-bop!)
Jazz!
(Jazz!)
[...] rutabaga!
(. . . rutabaga)
Carrots!
(Carrots!)
[...]
(What?)
Rutabaga!
(Rutabaga)

FZ: How about you say "Man" to it?

Hey man!
(Man!)
Let me hear you say "Hey man"
(Man!)
Let me hear you say "Guacamole"
(Guacamole!)

FZ: The mystery word for today is "Guacamole." Let's hear it!

What! One thing I wanna tell you right now
This ain't no be-bop
This is an Over-Nite Sensation
[...] Guacamole
Bring me an avocado

Bring me two avocados
Three avocados

George: Oh, Ruth . . .

FZ: When we last left The Mothers Of Invention they were trying to figure up what the fuck was going on with those signals. Well, I believe it's time now, folks, to get right back in the middle of Part Two of "Farther Oblivion." We're just about to warm up to the part where Ruth would [...] play her big number, bid a quick "Oh Yeah," with George on the trombone, Napoleon on the kazoo, and here we go . . .

FZ: A real jazz drum solo! Take it away! . . . Meanwhile, in Baltimore . . .

FZ: Contestant #1! . . . Contestant #2! . . . Contestant #3!
Mothers: Ha ha ha . . .
FZ: Contestant #1 again! . . . Contestant #2! . . . Contestant #4! . . .

FZ: Okay. You're contestant #4, right?
George: Ha ha ha . . .
Ruth: [...]
FZ: Ruth, Ruth, take a gong solo!
George: Ha ha ha . . .
FZ: Contestant #3!
[...]
FZ: Alright, Ruth, if you wanna [...].
Ruth: I won't.
FZ: Hey, Ruth, let's take a four-mallet gong solo. Yeah, [...].

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"

FZ: Okay? One, two, three . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite

Napoleon: Ah . . . Ha ha ha . . .
FZ: Let's make . . . One, two, three . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able . . .

FZ: He he . . . Then . . . Right! You got it, Ruth! Here we go. One, two . . . We should give those licks numbers! Ha ha ha! . . . Her we go. One, two, three . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee . . .

FZ: You need to put the "peek-a-boo" in there.

If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee . . .

FZ: That's it. The blues, Ruth, this is the blues. One, two, three . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
. . . to reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' . . .

FZ: You missed . . .
Ruth: Oh . . .
FZ: How about that?

Look here brother . . .

FZ: You ready?
Ruth: [...].
FZ: Well, what's the difference? The blues, Ruth, you know? The sadness, the inner turmoil. On the harmony part. Two, three . . .

Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?

FZ: That's cool! That is so cool!
Ruth: [...] time [...].

Look here brother . . .

Ruth: Right. Exact place before you cued it.
FZ: Right. One, two, three, four . . .

Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
Look here brother . . .

FZ: There's one in there . . . Yeah, that's right. The one that goes with the dominant chord . . .
Ruth: Ha ha! Ha ha! Oh, God . . .
FZ: Got it?
Ruth: This song it used to be the place where I relaxed, you know?
FZ: That's right. You know those days are gone forever, Ruth. On the eginning of "Look here brother." Two, three, four . . .

Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?

FZ: Good. Two, two, three, four, one, two, three . . . No, no, I was counting the pattern while you're playing. Look . . .
Ruth: Ah!

Look here brother
. . . two, three, four, one, two, three, four . . .
Who you're jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?

FZ: Okay. One, two, three . . .

Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother . . .

FZ: [...] with the dominant key.
Ruth: No, I will not, I will not do that.
[...]

FZ: Alright. From the beginning. One, two, three, four . . .

The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me

Well, the Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Now, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said:
"You might not believe this, little fella, but it'll cure your Asthma too!"
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me

George: Ha ha ha . . . I'm sorry, man!

An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"BUT I'VE GOT A KRISTL BOL!," he said
An' he held it to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
An' everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around,
I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just gone down . . . "
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?)
Don't you know,
You could make more money as a butcher,
So don't you waste your time on me

FZ: See, Ruth, see how sensitive you are? Okay. [...] Okay . . .