Joe's Menage

FZ: Now this is a new song—you haven't heard this one before. The name of this tune is, "Honey, Don't You Want A Man Like Me?" One, two, three, four . . .

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me

He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
His fav'rite phrase was "outa-site!"
He had an Irish Setter
(Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch)

It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
The moon was dim, the band was tight
They did the Bump together

What a splendid sight
Her teeth were white
The drinks were cheap
(It was Ladies Nite)
He was glad that he met her

She was an office girl ("My name is Betty")
Her fav'rite group was Helen Reddy
(They discussed the weather)

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!

She was a lonely sort, a little too short
Her jokes were dumb and her fav'rite sport
Was hockey (in the winter)
( . . . Yeah . . . damn it!)

He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
Any sport with a PUCK had to be 'bout the best
As he jabbed his elbow in her

Later on they went off to where the music was soft
The candles were drippy, they saw a real hippy
Who delivered their dinner

The rice was brown, and soon they found
That the crowd around that had jammed the room
Well it seemed to be getting thinner

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!

He took her home to a motor court
She wouldn't kiss him, he tried to ignore it
But it made him angry!

He called her a slut
A pig and a whore
A bitch and a cunt
And she slammed the door
In a petulant frenzy!

On the sofa she weeps
She weeps and she weeps
She weeps and she peeps
Through the curtain

He just got in his car
But the battery's dead
So he asked to use the phone
And she gives him some head
And that's the end of the story

Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!
Baby, don't you want a man sometimes?

FZ:

And now, ladies and gentlemen, we bring you direct from the front page of the Police Gazette a true story, a real true story about a real person now functioning—well, not functioning too well, 'cause they caught him—formerly functioning in the Midwest under the name of the Illinois Enema Bandit. Has anybody here ever heard of the Illinois Enema Bandit?

I see we have some perverts in this audience tonight. I wasn't quite sure when we got to Virginia, because they always told me that Virginia was for lovers, but now I know that it is possible that in the future Virginia may be for perverts, because you know about the Illinois Enema Bandit. Well, for those of you who are new to the world of perversion—some of you might have actually come, come to this institution to get an education, and we're gonna see what we can do to help you along with it.

Now, the Illinois Enema Bandit—his real name is Michael Kenyon, they caught him recently. And what they caught him doing was, breaking into the homes of college-educated women wearing a ski mask, carrying a briefcase that contained some rope, a little pistol, a thermometer, and a gleaming red enema bag.

Now this enterprising young gentleman (ahem) would, uh—he's getting his costume on right now—this enterprising young gentleman would come in there and capture the college-educated woman unawares, force her to lie on her stomach and then tie her up and, uh, holding a gun at her head and everything, you know, being really ominous, then he would take her temperature to make sure that she was okay, and then he would go in, and he would fill his bag up in the bathroom and he'd sneak back in there to the room and he'd go . . . Voot! Vip! Glug, glug, gluggity glug glug, gluggity glug about a quart and a half's worth, Voot! Stand her up, let her trot into the bathroom, poot it all out while he was jerking off in the corner. And then he would say, "Don't call the police for at least five minutes if you know what's good for ya! Ha ha ha ha!"

Here it is now, ladies and gentlemen, the Illinois Enema Bandit. We have this special song that deals with his life and times. It goes like this . . .

The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard he's on the loose
I heard he's on the loose

Lord, the pitiful screams
Of them college-educated women
For he'd be just tyin' 'em up
They'd be all bound down!
Be just pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice

The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard it on the news
I heard it on the news

Bloomington, Illinois
He has caused some alarm
Just sneakin' around there
From farm to farm
Got a rubberized bag
And a hose on his arm
Searchin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Searchin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Searchin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna . . .

The Illinois Enema Bandit
Some day he's gonna pay
Some day he's gonna pay

The police will say, "Sucker! You's under arrest!"
And the judge will have him for a special guest
The D.A. will order a secret test
Stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
Put out a call for the jury folks
And the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
They'll drag in the bandit for all to see
Sayin' "Don't nobody, have no sympathy
Hot soapy water in the first degree!"
And the Bandit might say, "Why is everybody always pickin' on me?"

Well did you cause this misery?
Well did you cause this misery?
Bandit, tell me did you cause this misery?
Well, one girl shout, "Let the Bandit be!"

Well are you guilty?
Bandit, tell me what's your plea?
Another girl shout, "Let the fiend go free!"

Well are you guilty?
Bandit, tell me, did you do these deeds?
You know what the bandit said?
He said, "It must be just what they all need"
(Enemas)
"It must be just what they all need"
(Flushing out)
"It must be just what they all need"
(Cushy cushy)
"It must be just what they all . . . "
Stay tuned, folks, for . . .

I coulda swore her hair was made of rayon
She wore a Milton Bradley crayon
But she was something I could lay on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

She put a Doobie Brothers tape on
(La la la la la la)
I had a Roger Daltrey cape on
(Roger Daltrey cape on)
There was a bed I dumped her shape on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Somewhat later on
I woke up and she was gone
There was dew out on the lawn
In the sunrise
Later she came back
With a rumpled paper sack
Which she told me would contain
A surprise

She stuck her hand right in it to the bottom
Said she knew I'd be surprised she got 'em
(Hoopla!)
Take a Charleston pimp to spot 'em
Then she gave a pair of shoes to me
(Look at that sucker!)
Plastic leather, 14 triple D

I said, "I wonder what's the shoes for?"
She told me, "Don't you worry no more!"
And got right down there on the tile floor
"Now, darling, stomp all over me!"
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Is this something new
Having people stomp on you?
Is it what I need to do
For your pleasure?
(Of all the things to do)
"What is this, a quiz?"
"Don't Managua what it is
It is merely just a moment
I can treasure"

By ten o'clock her arms and legs were rendered
She couldn't talk 'cause her mouth had been extendered
Looked to me as though she had been blendered
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

But was this abject misery?
(I don't think so)
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
(She likes it that way)

But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

It might seem strange to Herb and Dee
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

You're a lonely little girl
(Crunchy crunchy, yum yum yum-yum)
But your mommy and your daddy don't care
You're a lonely little girl, oh yeah

The things they say
Just hurt your heart
It's too late now
For them to start
To understand
The way you feel
The world for them
Is too unreal
For you're lonely, lonely, lonely
Lonely little girl
Oh, baby, poor baby

Every night you sit in your room
Right by your radio
Reading your books
Pictures of the idol you love

The words that he sings
The way that he looks
In a picture on the wall
There's a tear in his eye-ay-ay eye-ay-ay eye-ay-eye

There will come a time when everybody
Who is lonely will be free
To sing and dance and love

There will come a time when every evil
That we know will be an evil
That we can rise above

Who cares if hair is long or short
Or sprayed or partly grayed
We know that hair ain't where it's at

There will come a time when you won't even
Be ashamed if you are fat!

Wah Wah Wah

There will come a time when everybody
Who is lonely will be free
To sing and dance and love

There will come a time when every evil
That we know will be an evil
That we can rise above

Who cares if you're so poor you can't afford
To buy a pair of Mod A Go-Go stretch-elastic pants
There will come a time when you can even
Take your clothes off when you dance

Wah Wah Wah Wah

There will come a time when you can even
Take your clothes off when you dance

Wah Wah Wah Wah

There will come a time when you can even
Take your clothes off when you dance

What's the ugliest
Of your body?
What's the ugliest
Of your body?
Some say your nose
Some say your toes
But I think it's your mind

All your children are poor
Unfortunate victims of systems beyond their control
A plague upon your ignorance
And the gray despair of your ugly life

Where did Annie go
When she went to town? . . .

What was that? What happened? Where am I? In Kansas?

It can't happen here . . .

Norma Jean Bell:
Hey yeah, yeah
Some folks know about it
Some don't
Some will learn to shout it
Some won't
Sooner later, baby, yeah, here's the day to say
We're gonna have to get
Hey hey
Unh
Said I wanna
Said I wanna
Write it, y'all

FZ: This is André Lewis, ladies and gentlemen. He has a device that's called a melodica. I think there's only about a dozen of these in existence. It's a thing that you blow, but it's like a baby synthesizer.

FZ: Ladies and gentlemen, I will now play a rhythm guitar solo.

FZ: And now, ladies and gentlemen, a drum solo performed for you by Terry "Bow Tie" Bozzio. Take it away, Terry.

You've been listening to the golden tones of Napo— Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax and lead vocals, André Lewis on keyboards and thing that he blows in the middle of the show, Norma Bell alto saxophone and etceteras, little skinny Terry "Ted" Bozzio on drums, Roy Ralph "Moleman Managüito de la Banana Republic" Estrada on bass, and yours truly, Tyrone Power on guitar. Thank you very much for coming to the concert, hope you enjoyed it, and good night.