Harry and the Monologue

B. Thomas Cooper - Editor

blogment - National News wire - The Infinite Echo

It’s only Tuesday, and already, it’s been quite a week. I have been working away on a monologue I am set to deliver this Saturday at Flower Street Station in Phoenix.

As you might guess, listening to a monologue and delivering a monologue are quite different, and composing this first monologue has not proven a simple task. For several days now, I have shouldered the burden of great anxiety over the content, you know, just trying to find the right words to share on such a momentous occasion.

In fact, it has begun to adversely effect my sleep to the point where I am experiencing nightmares. Usually I don’t recall my dreams, but one in particular continues to haunt me.

In this dream, I’m sitting in the front row of what begins as a typical show here at Flower Street station, but then suddenly morphs into a large, exquisite auditorium, complete with orchestra pit, and an entire orchestra, with a pair of cellists sitting just below me, perhaps no further than three or four feet away. In this dream, I am so close to the musicians, I can see the eyes as they follow along with the dots on the sheets of music before them, strange, as I should have been staring at the backs of their heads. May I remind you, it was, of course, only a dream.

On stage is a large, pearl white grand piano. Playing that piano is none other than singer, songwriter, Marc Cohn, known primarily for his one big hit, Walking in Memphis released back in 1991. In fact, Mr. Cohn is performing a rather moving rendition of Walking in Memphis, and is just about to admit to being a Christian of convenience, when out of the blue, in swings Terrible Ted Nugent, high above the crowd, one hand grasping a rope, the other a cross-bow. Terrible Ted is quite old in my dream. He appears to be in his late seventies, perhaps older. Like many his age he has little body fat… he is all skin and muscle, and he is wearing nothing more than a deer skin G-string and a camouflage-colored military style beret that makes him appear as though he is wearing camel genitalia on his forehead. It is not a pretty sight, mind you, and it’s about to get downright ugly.

Just as the song is reaching it’s dramatic crescendo, Ted aims with precision, discharging his trusty cross-bow. Ted, as you know, is a master marksman and bow hunter. He scores a direct hit, striking Mr. Cohn in the center of his heart, which explodes on impact, sending a stream of blood gushing onto the pearl white grand piano, and covering the nearly naked Nugent. As Ted reaches up to wipe the blood from his eyes, he looses grip of the rope and falls into the orchestra pit below, impaled on a cello. There he lies, obviously mortally wounded, poked through the middle like a shish kabob.

I react as any man would. I lean over the orchestral pit, and I ask the mortally impaled Ted if he is alright. Of course, he isn’t alright, and I believe he would have said as much if he hadn’t been so delirious. Ted is in shock now, and his time on this Earth slipping away. Again, I speak to the dying man, asking if he has any last words before moving on to that great used car lot in the sky. He looks at me with a kind of a look only a nearly dead Ted Nugent can conjure up, and with his final breath, mutters the words,,, Harry Bedurchy.

Harry Bedurchy, and then he just slumps back on the cello and dies. Harry Bedurchy, I repeat, as the house lights come on and the crowd begins to shuffle out. Harry Bedurchy, indeed, and with that I awakened from my dream. Even now, I have no idea what may have prompted this nightmarish scenario. I can only wonder.

Well, I suppose it’s time to wrap up this, my first of monologues. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and I hope the next time you hear the song Walking in Memphis, you think of an aged Ted Nugent sporting camel genitalia. I know I will. Good night everyone. Oh and by all means, Harry Bedurchy.

Brad

B. Thomas Cooper - Editor

Sound Foundation Entertainment - National Newswire - The Infinite Echo - Impeachment Now! - Sound&Recording - Skate the Razor - Skate the Razor Blog - blogment

Donald Rumsfeld, The Man Who Lost The War

B. Thomas Cooper - Editor

blogment - National News wire - The Infinite Echo

Many in Washington share the blame for US failures in Iraq, but none more so than Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld. From the beginning it has been his baby, and his battle plan, As Secretary of Defense, he alone shoulders the responsibility for the endless parade of disasters in Iraq. Donald Rumsfeld stands front and center. He is without question, the man who lost the war.



US ground troops prepared for the invasion of Iraq by racing their Hummers across the Nevada desert. They did not prepare for an insurgency, as they were told not to expect one. Instead, they were told they would be greeted as liberators. Rumsfeld now steadfastly insists that no-one at the time could have predicted the size or intensity of the current insurgency. A grave error indeed. Rumsfeld ignored the first rule of combat… never underestimate your opponent.

The dead keep piling up. Iraqi hospitals are overwhelmed with casualties, and still no running water or reliable electricity. Violence continues to escalate, with August of 2006 proving to be the deadliest month in Iraq since the invasion began. There are no victories, no winners. According the US Pentagon, the streets of Baghdad were safer than the streets of our own nations capital prior to the invasion. Sadly, such is obviously no longer the case.



Still, Rumsfeld continues to willfully send our young men and women into a hostile environment to be maimed or possible murdered. He has shown little remorse the mess he has made. True to form, he refuses to appear weak, when in fact, his conduct has been nothing less than cowardly. Indeed, failure in Iraq is not an option, it’s a fact. One need not strain to hear the fat lady sing. She is well through the second refrain of her swan song. Through acts of arrogance and pride, the cause is lost. There will be no victory, nor vindication. The situation cannot be salvaged, and for that, you can thank US Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld. Or perhaps it would be more accurate if we simply refer to him as the man who lost the war.

B. Thomas Cooper - Editor

Sound Foundation Entertainment - National Newswire - The Infinite Echo - Impeachment Now! - Sound&Recording - Skate the Razor - Skate the Razor Blog - blogment