Marc in the Land of OZ

The wind was viciously blowing, even for Queens Boulevard, the Boulevard of Death. Nonetheless, I had to take a bicycle ride. I had just found my Schwinn Orange Krate.

I hadn’t seen it in years. I know that a man of 51 years old, 6' 2" tall and 240 plus pounds, looks absurd on a children’s bicycle, but I couldn’t resist. I was angry and needed a release. I had just finished listening to Anne Coulter spew her venom on the radio. Why do I listen to that garbage.

The wind kept getting worse and worse, I had to get home. Suddenly a giant gust took me over the Kennedy Building and I landed in a magical land that I’d never seen before. Wait, My God, I’ve hit someone. Oh No! I’ve landed on the Wicked Witch of the Far Right, Anne Coulter, herself! I know that I’ve got to get out before her cohort, the Big Fat Warlock of the Far Right comes flying in on his industrialized vacuum cleaner seeking revenge.

I hear voices. They’re singing.

We represent the ACLU

The ACLU

And in the name of the ACLU

We welcome you to fantasy land!

They advise me to go see the great Guru of Chappaqua. Only he will know how to get me home and out of the clutches of the Big Fat Warlock of the far right.

So I hop on the Whitestone Expressway. Somehow, my Schwinn is still intact, boy were those made well! Shortly before the bridge, I see a man in a Paul Stuart Suit, with golden cufflinks on his monogrammed suit.

Marc: You’re obviously a lawyer. So why do you look so happy.

Lawyer: I’m one of the lucky ones. The law school forgot to give me any ethics.

Marc: I’m going to see the Guru of Chappaqua, maybe he can give you some ethics.

Lawyer: You’re kidding aren’t you?

Marc: Naive as it may sound, it’s part of the script.


(Lawyer)
I don’t want to work Pro Bono
That’s always been my Credo
I need my Mercedes Benz
And My Haircuts they cost Plenty
So it’s really elementary
I have no need for any friends.

I take a large retainer
Financially I’m the gainer
Their futures I portends

(Marc)
You are clearly narcissistic
So let’s not be unrealistic
You will never make amends

(Lawyer)
Oh, I wear silken ties
And Thousand dollar suits
With the judges I am often in cahoots
So I win all the Lawsuits

I am just a bottom dweller
Can not accept a failure
I take any large stipends
So it’s ethics I avoidI’ll never represent the unemployed
Or those who need to wear depends.



The lawyer sensing a possible personal injury suit, after all, a Schwinn on the Whitestone Bridge, agrees to come along.

As we get to the toll booth, we see a man in tattered clothes. Because I realize where this story is going, and that it won’t work without three companions, I decide to talk to him.

Marc: Are you a hippy?

Hippy: I once was, but now I’m a liberal who has lost his idealism!

Marc: Well that’s been known to happen. Look at Ed Koch and Dennis Miller. Why did it happen to you?

Hippy: I made a big windfall in the market.

Marc: This fellow is an unethical Lawyer. I’m sure he’ll gladly find a way to impoverish you.

Hippy: That’s alright, I’m not that upset!

Marc: We’re off to see the Great Guru of Chappagua, maybe he can give you back your idealism. But I have to warn you, we’re being followed by the Big Fat Warlock of the Far Right.

Hippy: Do you think that he can help me.

Marc: Just by asking that question, I see that you haven’t lost all your naivety!

When a Hippy earns some money
His prior life is rather funny
And he can chase the Dead
Just because I’m the fool
Who is suddenly uncool
I’m no longer a Pothead

I was dirty, I was smelly
But now I sport a large pot belly
And Eat more then crummy sprouts
I have drinks with all the boys
While we all compare our toys
And discuss the Market's in and outs

Picture me a crowded bar
A raspy voice says low

(Waiter)
A Glass of Port

(Hippy)
Yes Sport

Just to listen to Cream
and have a Psychedelic Dream
My life was such a daze
I was careless, I was homeless
And more often then not soapless
How I miss the fog and haze.

As we approach Chappaqua we cross paths with the famous fundamentalist preacher, The Far Right Reverend I.M.A. Phony.

Yeah, I know I blamed Katrinas
On Men misusing their own Weiners
against Gods will they serve
so listen all you sinners
don’t be losers be all winners
sleep with Sally and not Irv.

You have tried all of the ruses
With no plausible excuses
Said the Lord you don’t deserve.
Therefore, I want all sinners censured

(Hippy)
My Old VW Bus not dented

(Lawyer)
And all my capital ventured

(Marc)
If the Guru is a Guru we deserve

(Lawyer)
Then I’m sure to get some cash

(Hippy)
Some Pot

(Marc)
Published

(Preacher)
Eternity




As we ride up the Major Deegan, we hear on the radio the Big Fat Warlock of the Far Right:

My friends, the liberals have again attacked without

provocation our comrade Anne Coulter. All Dittoheads

must unite!


Is he kidding? Maybe he should have joined us for some veracity!

Finally we’ve reached the gates of the land of Clinton. Can he give us what we crave? Save us from the Big Fat Wicked Warlock of the Far Right! Give the Lawyer Ethics! Give the Hippy back his ideal; Please don't give the Preacher anything.

We’re granted an audience. A familiar voice from behind the curtain wants to know why he should grant his wishes. I can’t speak for Preacher and the Lawyer, but both the Hippy and I voted for you twice. And I know if she gets the nomination.

Strange noises are coming from behind the curtain. My God! He’s not alone! Monica is with him!

In the end none of our wishes were granted, except maybe the Guru’s wishes!