07 April 2008


I AM THE HEP CAT.

On the Martian landscape of Pittsburgh radio, with one politically livid imbecile after another screeching about property taxes or gay art Giuliani hated, there was a giant of radio called Doug Hoerth. He was my radio Cugine for years, and I would call him with various assembled one liners, all done as he would sit back and allow me a kind of stream of congruousness one would have seen as a satire of Rodney and Johnny when television still existed. I would call him with various thoughts, like the Clinton memoir should be entitled LEGS AND THE MAN, or TOLD HIM OF RELATIVE WHO PROMISED TO GET RID OF ALL THE ANTS IN MY HOUSE FOR A HUNDRED BUCKS AND SHOWED UP AT MY DOOR WITH A BOOT. Of a date I had, I reported back as if we were the lords of flat bush on a new Amsterdam stoop, I told him, I hadnt been through a bloodbath like that since I saw Gary Burgoff open at the tropicana. I would gage how hip my stuff was by how many beats it took before Uncle Dougie would be silent before he crackled into Joisey laughter, as we both played shady wiseguy, I as Italic roman hero, ANTIEEE from East Orange, in a city of fat Pollocks and steelers cows, not to mention as the fat back great ape gandolfini was giving a strange good name to wop hoodlums, sadly making them the vigilante variation of white women and fags. Dullsville,mahn, Real square my mahn, we would say in overtly hep cat, pretentious tarantino sinatraese, all to use a favorite hipster lingo word I threw at the radio cat.

In 2004, in thirty six hours, from a Steeler game with the jagoffs to the beginning of Bush being reelected by Intell microchips, I wrote a screenplay called BIG BERTHA AND THE MAFIA COPS, for a la producer who liked my crime comics stuff, and wanted something for a Teri Hatcher type. In the play a part was written based on Doug, a dj in the olden style, called FAT FREDDY BARZINI, and he and his sixties oldies rock and roll show was the soundtrack of the b and w movie of the week, serpico, seventies style movie, as an Italian cop was out to find two wayward mafia cops and their waitress hostage. I wanted Doug to play the role, but it fell apart when the producer found the whole dj selection too American graffiti, meaning he waddnt about to pay to use some of these great songs , variations I found in Doug, like Gary us Bonds, stax records, Otis Reding masterpieces like I caint turn yew loose, bitch, and a Pittsburgh's ditty which was the high noon like song of the film...YOUR MY ANGEL....COME BACK TO MEEEEEEEEE....

But the future promised , unlike in Virgil, didnt happen, and the America I thought was out there is gone. HE HAS BEEN NOW RELEASED BY A RADIO SHIT HOLE WHICH IS NOW DEMOCRATIC BLEATING ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY. AND, here in Pittsburgh, we have an air america stooge who speaks incessantly of retardo-ation, and now must be ever so vigilante about not dissmissing the queen, god knows,...and a yenta who is now blathering away, full of polite disgust at the angry niggers who call her who hate her Jewish Imperialism, and who she hates back for their similarity to hated unemployable street arabs, who all suddenly dont like the clintons no mo, and who screech about global warming in between spots bought and paid for by the local lexus dealership.

Labels: , ,