[MiSTing] "A Whitman Sampler" (Part 3 of 3)

[gad...@angelfire.com]

Continued from part 2 ...

> Let the reformers descend from the stands where they are forever
> bawling! let an idiot or insane person appear on each of the
> stands!

TOM: Sounds like the turnover in the '94 Congressional elections.

> Let the Asiatic, the African, the European, the American, and the
> Australian, go armed against the murderous stealthiness of each
> other! let them sleep armed! let none believe in good will!

CROW: An idea that was later promoted by the NRA.

> Let there be no unfashionable wisdom! let such be scorn'd and derided
> off from the earth!

MIKE: Which is why it's important to dress your wisdom in the latest
from Saks Fifth Avenue.

> Let a floating cloud in the sky--let a wave of the sea--let growing
> mint, spinach, onions, tomatoes--let these be exhibited as
> shows, at a great price for admission!

CROW: Wow, Walt foresaw modern art shows, too! He was a regular
Notre Damas!
TOM: That's "Nostradamus."
CROW: Hey, you root for the schools that you like, and I'll root
for the ones that I like.

> Let all the men of These States stand aside for a few smouchers!

[All three have to choke back guffaws.]
MIKE: But if you wanna know if he loves you so, what else can you do?
TOM: "He", Mike?
MIKE: Well, yeah. I mean, that's the way the song went. I guess you
could say "he or she" but -- ah, come on, you know what I mean.
TOM: Yes, Mike, I, uh, think we do.
CROW: [Liltingly] Um - hummmm.
[Mike sighs resignedly.]

> let
> the few seize on what they choose! let the rest gawk, giggle,
> starve, obey! 50

TOM: Not necessarily in that order.

> Let shadows be furnish'd with genitals! let substances be deprived of
> their genitals!

CROW: Come on, even *I* think that's taking those diamond commercials
a bit too far!

> Let there be wealthy and immense cities--but still through any of
> them, not a single poet, savior, knower, lover!

MIKE: Or at least banish them to the "artsy" district.

> Let the infidels of These States laugh all faith away!
> If one man be found who has faith, let the rest set upon him!

TOM: Wow, there's a statement Pat Robertson can relate to! Pat
once complained about being oppressed by "drunkards, drug
dealers, communists, atheists, New Age, worshippers of Satan,
secular humanists, oppressive dictators, greedy moneychangers,
revolutionary assassins, adulterers, and homosexuals."
MIKE: Actually, despite sentiments like from the first poem we
read, a lot of scholars think Walt *was* homosexual, or at
least bi.
TOM: Really? Well, scratch Robertson.
MIKE: I would, but I'm afraid he'd take it the wrong way.

> Let them affright faith! let them destroy the power of breeding
> faith!

CROW: Hey, it wasn't *us* who told priests they had to stay celibate.

> Let the she-harlots and the he-harlots be prudent!

MIKE: [As George Bush] No, no, wouldn't be prudent --

> let them dance on,
> while seeming lasts! (O seeming! seeming! seeming!)

TOM: Sounds like a disco star afraid his white pants'll split.

> Let the preachers recite creeds! let them still teach only what they
> have been taught!

CROW: Naaah, make 'em teach what they don't know.

> Let insanity still have charge of sanity!

MIKE: Since when did it ever not?

> Let books take the place of trees, animals, rivers, clouds!

TOM: Ah, sounds like Rush Limbaugh talking about _The Way Things
Ought to Be_.

> Let the daub'd portraits of heroes supersede heroes! 60
> Let the manhood of man never take steps after itself!

CROW: Or else it'll end up like in that Winnie-the-Pooh cartoon
where Pooh and Piglet keep following their own tracks around
a tree.

> Let it take steps after eunuchs, and after consumptive and genteel
> persons!

MIKE: You know, I always *did* like Mr. Rogers.

> Let the white person again tread the black person under his heel!

TOM: I think that's a new proposition on the California ballot.

> (Say! which is trodden under heel, after all?)

CROW: A question later to be repeated by such intellectual giants
as Jesse Helms.

> Let the reflections of the things of the world be studied in mirrors!

ALL: [Singing] Reflections of --
The way life used to be --

> let the things themselves still continue unstudied!

MIKE: You know, that statement sounds somehow Platonic. I can really
relate to it.

> Let a man seek pleasure everywhere except in himself!
> Let a woman seek happiness everywhere except in herself!

CROW: Lest they grow hair on their palms.

> (What real happiness have you had one single hour through your whole
> life?)

TOM: [Starting to sob] He's right -- he's RIGHT! My whole life has
been one big, futile MESS! [Begins crying loudly.]
MIKE: [Patting Tom's back gently] There, there, now, Tom. Here, have
a Ram Chip.
[Mike places a chip in Tom's mouth. Tom makes chewing then lip-smacking
sounds.]
MIKE: There. Feel better now?
TOM: Oh boy, you bet!
CROW: [Tentatively] You know, Mike, I'm getting kinda depressed, too.
MIKE: Oh, here. [Feeds Crow a chip.]
CROW: Hummm, yeah, that hit the spot! I'm feeling much chipper now!
TOM: I love these things -- combination Frito and Ginkoba, all in one!
But these do taste slightly different than normal.
MIKE: Oh, these have been specially formulated to give you more
get-up-and-go.
TOM: They have? Oh, neat.
CROW: Yeah, my energy level has needed a little boost recently.

> Let the limited years of life do nothing for the limitless years of
> death! (What do you suppose death will do, then?)

MIKE: I would say it just about brings everything to a close.
TOM: Like this poem.

>
>
>
> Whitman, Walt. 1900. Leaves of Grass.

CROW: Hey, wait a minute, I just realized -- grass doesn't *have* any
leaves!
TOM: Depends on what type of "grass" you're talking about, heh-heh.
MIKE: [Standing and picking up Tom] Oh, criminy, let's just get out
of here.
CROW: Yeah, let's make like the grass and leave.

[Crow exits theater followed shortly by Mike and Tom, both still
moaning from Crow's joke.]

...o...2...3...4...5...6...*

[SoL. Bridge. Mike, Crow and Tom enter.]

CROW: Man, Mike, what was with Walt and that last poem?

TOM: Yeah, what burr got up his behind, anyway?

MIKE: Well, maybe we can ask him. [Looks at us and hits
the mads light] Pearl? You there?

[CF. Close-up on the end of the dining table where Pearl,
her makeup and hair back in place, stands beside Walt
Whitman, who is still seated.]

PEARL: Yeah, we're here, Nelson. I was just showing Walt
here the end of your experiment.

WALT: Yes, and I must say, you three automatons make the
wind-up marvels of my day look like toys!

PEARL: Uh, Walt, the one in the jumpsuit is human.

WALT: He is? Ah, my apologies -- I just expected the
late 20th century American man to look -- different.

[SoL]

MIKE: Uh, okay -- anyway, we're please to meet you, Mr.
Whitman. I hope you're not too upset by how we
treated your poems.

[CF]

WALT: [Good-naturedly] Ah, think nothing of it. I heard
*much* worse in my own day, I assure you! For instance,
in 1860 the "Saturday Review" wrote that I was "one of
the most indecent writers who ever raked out filth into
sentences."

[SoL]

MIKE: Well, that's kind of you, sir. [As Mike speaks,
the 'bots start squirming about slightly as if they
were uncomfortable] Anyhow, we were just wondering
what inspired you to write "Respondez!" the way you did?

TOM: [Quietly] I'm starting to feel funny.

CROW: [Quietly] Yeah, me too.

[CF]

WALT: Oh, I did get a bit carried away with that poem,
didn't I? I'm afraid I was just so fed up with
government corruption, rampant demoralization
of our society, crime, pornography, infidelity to
both God and spouse -- but forgive me, you don't
want me to get started on that again. Besides,
I'm sure you've all advanced passed all that by
now.

[SoL]

MIKE: Actually, Mr. Whitman, the types of things you
ranted about then would probably make a successful
radio show today. [The 'bots are somewhat more
agitated.]

[CF]

WALT: Er -- rant? Radio? I'm afraid I don't understand.

[SoL]

MIKE: Well, it's a long story --

TOM: [Finding it very hard to stay still] What the hell's
going on?

MIKE: [Too innocently] Whatever do you mean, Tom?

TOM: I feel like I've got to -- OH, BOY! [Rushes
out of picture.]

CROW: [Also very fidgety] Mike -- Mike, what did you
put in those Ram Chips?

MIKE: Put *in* them? Why, nothing! Of course, I did *soak*
them overnight in a fine broth of castor oil, Metamucil,
dehydrocholic acid, and a concentrated mixture of liquified
Dulcolax and Ex-Lax -- for that "get-up-and-go" I told you
about.

CROW: [Obviously very uncomfortable] Ohhhh -- curse, you, Nelson!
[Calls] LOOK OUT, SERVO, I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU!
[Exits quickly, following the route Tom took.]

MIKE: [Unsuccessfully attempting to suppress a self-satisfied
smile] Back to you, Mrs. Forrester.

[CF]

PEARL: [Raising an eyebrow and nodding in a mock salute]
Not bad, Nelson, not bad. You may have potential yet.
[To Walt] But tell me, Walt. You mentioned
pornography. But what about your works like that
"Waiting Woman" thing? Didn't they regard *that* as
pornographic?

WALT: Well, actually, many did. But that was not my intent.
You see, I regarded sex as a sacred act, fully
natural and the absolute center of existence.

PEARL: Really? Tell me more --

[Observer enters picture and stands beside Pearl. He is
holding his brain tray. The eggs in the nest on his head have
hatched, and the raven is feeding its two hatchlings.]

OBSERVER: Will there be anything more, Madam?

[Pearl looks at him, somewhat irritated by the interruption,
but Whitman laughs good-naturedly.]

WALT: Say, what is your manservant's pet feeding its young?
*Conqueror* worms?

[There is a mixture of laughter and moans from around the table.
Pearl joins the laughter as Observer pastes on an obviously
forced smile.]

PEARL: [Her laughter subsiding] Yes, Bird-Brain Guy, there
*is* something you can do. I've got a bottle of vintage
1947 champagne chilling in a bucket on the kitchen
counter. Go fetch it for us, won't you?

OBSERVER: Yes, Madam. [Starts to leave.]

PEARL: [Stopping him] But here, let me hold this. [Takes his
brain tray] That way you can use both hands to serve.

OBSERVER: [Uneasily] But I --

PEARL: Don't worry, you'll be within 50 feet of it.
You won't go any more brain-dead than normal.

OBSERVER: [Sighs resignedly] Very well, Madam. [He exits
through the kitchen doors behind Walt as Pearl
places the tray on the table.]

WALT: I say, what *is* that thing?

PEARL: You'll see in a moment; it's a surprise.
[Calls] OH, BOBO! COME OUT HERE, AND BRING A CLEAN KNIFE!
[To us, quietly] Like I said, you weren't bad, Nelson,
but here's how we Forresters do April Fool's Day.

[Bobo appears through the Kitchen doors, carrying a carving
knife, and stands beside Pearl.]

BOBO: Yes, Lawgiver?

PEARL: [Gesturing to the brain tray] It's time to serve this
plum pudding I made for Mr. Whitman's dessert. Slice
it up for everyone, won't you?

BOBO: [Looking down at tray] But Lawgiver, isn't that --

PEARL: Yes, it *does* bear a remarkable resemblance, doesn't it?
But you'll see the difference when you slice in.

BOBO: Very well, Lawgiver.

[Observer comes out of the kitchen, carrying the bottle of
champagne, and sees Bobo about to cut into his brain.]

OBSERVER: BOBO, NO!

[Without thinking, Observer quickly raises and smashes the
bottle over Bobo's head. Everyone at the table gasps as Bobo
suddenly snaps to a straight standing position.]

BOBO: [Woozily] I think -- the champagne -- has gone to my
head -- [Collapses like a chopped tree.]

[Observer covers his mouth with his fingertips and, with a
shocked expression, looks down at Bobo while Pearl looks at
us and laughs.]

PEARL: Now *that's* how a *Forrester* celebrates April Fool's!

[Fade out. Roll credits and play closing theme.]

SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For those interested (for those not, skip to the end) I
wish to acknowledge the following useful resources:

_Walt Whitman's America_ by David S. Reynolds
For some insight into Mr. Whitman's mindset. Walt's
description of sex to Pearl is a paraphrase of a
description on page 210 of this book.

_Fighting Words_ by James Charlton
Contains actual comments, mostly derogatory but usually
literate and often witty, that famed writers have made
about other writers. The comments about Walt Whitman
made by Ezra Pound and Robert Louis Stevenson were lifted
from this book, pp. 34-35. (I made up Walt's replies --
but you've probably guessed that.)

http://www.columbia.edu/acis/bartleby/whitman
Project Bartleby's online copy of _Leaves of Grass_.
This was the source for the text of the two poems used
in this MiSTing.

http://thehamptons.com/words/reynolds/politics_and_poetry.html
Discusses the political background of Mr. Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_.

http://jefferson.village.virginia.edu/whitman/works/leaves/1860/reviews/index.html
Contains actual 1860 reviews of _Leaves of Grass_ from several
publications. This is where I got the quote from the "Saturday
Review" that Mr. Whitman cites in the MiSTing.

I'd also like to thank my teachers, and the authors of the 1st Amendment.

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> Let him who is without my poems be assassinated!

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