The Facts of Life Page 11

  Bee's brother said, “But Mama, he used a fucking nail!”

  Bee can tell a joke better than anybody I know. He really gets into it.

  BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI, is one of my favorite places. I was in the air force there in 1950. I fell in love with Mississippi—Gulfport, Biloxi—and the whole coastal area.

  I first saw Dave Gardner in a place called Gustevens in Gulfport. Back in those days, Biloxi and Gulfport were big gambling towns. They still are, maybe more, now that all the casinos are legal.

  Air force days

  I was stationed at Kessler AFB for a while. I played at the Airmen's Club, a club for the enlisted personnel at Kessler. I had a lot of fun playing around Biloxi, but I didn't really like the military life. It didn't take long for me to realize that I wasn't cut out for it. But, I still love Biloxi.

  Protest Song

  I WROTE “JIMMY'S ROAD” when my friend and bass player, David Zettner, was drafted into the army during the Vietnam War. I could have called it “David's Road,” but “Jimmy's Road” sounded more euphonious. Thank you, Chet Atkins, for that big word. He said that one time about some line I had written. At the time I didn't know what it meant—words that go together—but I said, “Alright Chet, thanks.” I was relieved to find out later it was a good thing.

  Jimmy's Road

  This is Jimmy's road

  Where Jimmy liked to play

  And this is Jimmy's grass

  Where Jimmy liked to lay around

  This is Jimmy's tree

  That Jimmy liked to climb

  Then Jimmy went to war

  And something changed his mind around

  This is the battleground

  Where Jimmy learned to kill

  Now Jimmy has a trade

  And Jimmy knows it well—too well

  This is Jimmy's grave

  Where Jimmy's body lies

  And when a soldier falls

  Jimmy's body dies—and dies

  But this was Jimmy's road

  Where Jimmy liked to play

  And this is Jimmy's grass

  Where Jimmy liked to lay around

  I think tonight we're playing at the Grand Casino, and it will finally be warm. I'm sick of all the cold and rain. I've had a couple of relapses trying to play golf in that kind of weather. This will give you an idea of how smart I am: If I had to work outside in that mess I would bitch and moan, but there's something about golf that makes idiots of us all I suppose.

  Rainy Day Blues

  Well it's cloudy in the morning

  Gonna be raining in the afternoon

  I said it's cloudy in the morning

  Gonna be raining in the afternoon

  And if you don't like this rainy weather

  You better pack your bags and move

  But if you're running from it, brother

  The only road that I can see

  If you're running from it, brother

  The only road that I can see

  Is the road that leads to nowhere

  And nowhere is a fool like me

  Rain keep a-falling

  Falling on my window pane

  Rain keep a-falling

  Falling on my window pane

  Never seen so much rainy weather

  Guess I'll never see the sun again

  Better save those dimes and nickels

  Save 'em for a rainy day

  You'd better save your dimes and nickels

  Save 'em for a rainy day

  It ain't gonna keep the rain from coming

  But at least you know you've paid your way

  THESE GUYS WERE playing golf one day when a funeral passed by on the road next to the golf course. One of the players took off his hat and waited until the funeral procession passed. One of his fellow golfers said, “John, that's mighty respectable of you to do that.”

  The guy said, “It's the least I can do for her. We would have been married twenty years today.”

  11:45 P.M., May 3

  THIS WAS A DAY OFF IN BILOXI. It turned into a long drive from Richmond. I spent the day, well what's left of it (we didn't get here until four), swimming a little, running a little, and practicing my tae kwan do. David Anderson and I walked next door to the Waffle House before watching the last of the Mavericks basketball game. What a game! The Mavericks pulled it out after being down seventeen points at halftime. I was happy for Don Nelson and the Mavericks. Don and I are very good friends. He has a house in Maui and we have some fun poker games at my place on Monday nights. He's a wonderful person and I'm proud to call him my friend.

  David Anderson is my long-time trusted friend and employee, whose talents are many and who does so many different things well, from computers to settling up with the promoter. His birthday is just before mine, so he always manages to get overlooked. He wants it that way, but happy birthday, David. I don't know how old he is but he was a child when he came to work for us, and he's no child today. None of us are. The road has a way of aging you a little faster.

  David and I cowrote a song together.

  My Broken Heart Belongs to You

  I lost my mind so long ago

  I wanted everyone to know

  I wanted everyone to see

  My broken heart belongs to me

  I'd go beyond the thought of you

  And a broken heart was nothing new

  I wanted everyone to see

  My broken heart belonged to me

  And now that autumn fills the air

  I feel your presence everywhere

  Now my fears are coming true

  My broken heart belongs to you

  Talked to Ray Price today. We're going into the studio this Monday to do another album. I'm sure looking forward to that. He's still the best singer in country music. He wants to do an album of songs written by Texas writers and call it “The Texas Album.” We'll certainly have a lot of writers to choose from: Floyd Tillman, Leon Payne, Lefty Frizzell, Bob Wills, and many, many more. We'll record it at World Headquarters in Luck, the same place we recorded Rainbow Connection. It's a small, all-digital studio, and the sound is fantastic.

  12:29 A.M., May 4, same night, next day (I know, it's complicated. Just don't think about it.)

  GOOD NIGHT.

  Sunday, May 7, 12:25 A.M.

  JUST FINISHED PLAYING MEMPHIS. We played a huge festival right downtown. Bob Dylan was playing a mile down the street on another stage, right after the Black Crowes. What a hot crowd!

  I also went into the studio this afternoon with T. G. Sheppard and recorded a song called “It's Texas.” I liked the song, and T. G. and his folks were very nice. I also did a radio interview with a station here in Memphis. They had an advance copy of Rainbow Connection and say they like it.

  On our way to Austin for a couple of days off before we go into the studio again with Ray Price …

  DID YOU HEAR the one about Billy Roy the cabin boy?

  The dirty little ripper

  He lined his ass with broken glass

  And circumcised the skipper

  Or,

  My name is Joe Bailey

  My dick is a whalie

  and my balls weigh ninety-four pounds

  If you know a lady

  who wants a nice baby

  just tell her Joe Bailey's in town

  I'M SORRY, but if I go ahead and get them all out, maybe I won't think of them again. I've got to remember to call preacher Gerald Mann tomorrow. He always has a couple of good jokes for me. Joke-telling is therapeutic in a sick kind of way. Laughter is still the best medicine.

  If you ain't crazy, there's something wrong with you.

  WE JUST PASSED Little Rock, Arkansas, and that should put us in Austin about noon tomorrow or today, depending on how you look at your watch. It's already tomorrow, but it's still tonight.

  No Tomorrow in Sight

  The children are sleeping

  Our talk can begin

  We've waited until they've gone to bed />
  We knew they would cry

  When we said goodbye

  And I'd rather leave quietly instead

  We can never be happy

  We both know it's true

  We've quarrelled from the day that we met

  Our love was too weak

  To pull our dreams through

  But too strong to let us forget

  I hope we can salvage a few memories

  To carry us through the long nights

  The clock's striking midnight

  Yesterday's gone and there's no tomorrow in sight

  In our efforts to break through

  The thick walls of pride

  With harsh words that burned to the core

  The walls still remain

  But the words broke inside

  And strengthened the walls even more

  I hope we can salvage a few memories

  To carry us through the long nights

  The clock's striking midnight

  Yesterday's gone and there's no tomorrow in sight

  I wrote that way back in the early '60s. Very few people have even heard it because sad songs and waltzes weren't selling that year.

  Sad Songs and Waltzes

  I'm writing a song all about you

  A true song as real as my tears

  But you've no need to fear it

  For no one will hear it

  Cause sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year

  I'll tell all about how you cheated

  I'd like for the whole world to hear

  I'd like to get even

  With you cause you're leaving

  But sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year

  It's a good thing that I'm not a star

  You don't know how lucky you are

  Though my record may say it

  No one will play it

  Cause sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year

  Both of these songs put together probably sold about four copies. That's not the important thing. To me, just getting the words out of my head and onto paper was an exercise worth performing. Those kinds of thoughts left bottled up inside can do more damage than good, and can probably cause everything from cancer to heart break. Sometimes just saying the words can cause some kind of healing to begin. But if you sing those songs every night year after year, I believe you can also prevent a total healing because you're always opening old wounds.

  So what's the answer? Who knows. If you have a hit with a sad song, just remember when you wrote it, it was for you. When you sing it over and over and over, it's for the benefit of the listener. Don't let it spoil an otherwise good night. Attempt to sing the song for the audience, and try not to get too involved in it yourself. It's a very thin line, and a lot easier said than done.

  Sometimes I believe the reason a lot of country singers and writers have gone off the deep end was because they could not find that thin line, and could never fully recover from the evening that caused them to write the song in the beginning. Hank Williams, Floyd Tillman, George Jones, Lefty Frizzell, and myself included, could in some way be victims of our own words.

  Man with the Blues

  If you need some advice in being lonely

  If you need a little help in feeling blue

  If you need some advice on how to cry all night

  Come to me, I'm the man with the blues

  I'm the man with a hundred thousand heartaches

  And I've got most every color of the blues

  So if you need a little shove in foulin' up in love

  Come to me, I'm the man with the blues

  I'm the man with a hundred thousand teardrops

  And I've got a good selection old and new

  If you need some advice in being lonely

  If you need a little help in feeling blue

  If you need some advice on how to cry all night

  Come to me, I'm the man with the blues

  You Ought to Hear Me Cry

  If you think I laugh louder than anyone here

  If you think that my volume's too high

  If you think I laugh loud

  You ain't heard nothing yet

  You ought to hear me cry

  I go home to a home where love's almost gone

  Not enough to fill one needle's eye

  Then I sit down in a corner

  And I turn on the tears

  And you ought to hear me cry

  If you think I talk louder than maybe I should

  Well, I guess I'm that kind of guy

  But if I talk loud and laugh loud

  You ain't heard it all

  You ought to hear me cry

  Slow Down Old World

  Slow down, slow down

  Old world, there's no hurry

  'Cause my life ain't mine anymore

  I lived too fast

  Now it's too late to worry

  And I'm too blue to cry anymore

  I once was a fool for the women

  Now I'm just a fool, nothing more

  So slow down, slow down

  Old world, there's no hurry

  'Cause my life ain't mine anymore

  I once had a way with the women

  Till one got away with my heart

  So slow down, slow down

  Old world there's no hurry

  'Cause my life ain't mine anymore

  And here's a little toe-tapper …

  I Just Can't Let You Say Goodbye

  I had not planned on seeing you

  I was afraid of what I'd do

  But pride is strong, here am I

  And I just can't let you say goodbye

  Please have no fear, you're in no harm

  As long as you're here in my arms

  But you can't leave so please don't try

  But I just can't let you say goodbye

  What force behind your evil mind

  Can let your lips speak so unkind

  To one who loves as much as I

  But I just can't let you say goodbye

  The flesh around your throat is pale

  Indented by my fingernails

  Please don't scream and please don't cry

  'Cause I just can't let you say goodbye

  Your voice is still, it speaks no more

  You'll never hurt me anymore

  Death is a friend to love and I

  'Cause now you'll never say goodbye

  BEE MAN WAS BACK TONIGHT! The doctors say all the tests were negative, and in medical testing, negative is good. It seems like it should be the other way around. Negative is bad. Positive is good. Oh well, I hope they know what the hell they're doing. I wonder if a doctor would ever tell his patient to think positive? Hell, in medical terms, that could maybe kill you. I never could understand why an airport is called a terminal. Terminal sounds bad to me. Terminal sounds negative as hell. It's way too deep a subject for such a shallow mind, so let's move on.

  THE DOCTORS CAME in and told the patient, “Got some good news, and some bad news. Which do you want first?”

  The guy said, “Tell me the bad news first.”

  The doc said, “You have an incurable disease and you'll probably be dead in three weeks.”

  The guy said, “What in the hell is the good news?”

  The doctor said, “Did you see that good-looking blond nurse when you came into the office?”

  The guy said yes.

  The doctor said, “Well I'm fucking her.”

  2:10 A.M., same night, next day

  I'M GOING TO BED TO TRY AND SLEEP this off. Maybe I'll wake up with a clean mind, or maybe I won't. I'll be happy just to wake up. Remember, halitosis is better than no breath at all. Thank you, Lord, for making me your guinea pig. I guess you wanted to see how sick and perverted one son of a bitch can be. I'll try not to disappoint you. 'Nite all …

  P.S. THE BAD part about smoking weed …

  It's too expensive. It costs more than gold.

 
Over usage will cause you to get bronchitis.

  You'll smell like a skunk.

  Everytime someone says anything negative about smoking pot, you become somewhat hostile and start yakking about how hemp could save the world, and you start quoting page after page of The Emperor Wears No Clothes, and you wind up only sounding like a pothead trying to justify your habit.

  My advice would be to just cut back and shut up. Amen.

  AND OH, yeah—

  5. It's still illegal.

  So when someone tells you there's nothing wrong with smoking pot, tell them to kiss your ass 'cause you know better. But it's still the best natural medicine in the world. So use it, don't abuse it.

  GOD HAS BLESSED you richly, so get down on your knees and thank Him. Don't forget the less fortunate or God will personally kick your ass. I'd love to do it for Him, but I can't be everywhere.

  Amen.

  TWO THINGS I can't stand. One is somebody standing there with a cigarette hanging out of their mouth and a glass of whiskey in one hand, saying how bad smoking pot is for you, and the other is a fat doctor telling you not to run because it can be hard on your knees. These are some of the guys who are in for a divine butt-kicking.

  And as my first wife, Martha, used to say, “Don't worry about a thing 'cause there ain't nothing going to be alright.” Hence the title of my book, The Facts of Life and Other Dirty Jokes, and don't forget the words from the gospel according to Hank Williams, “I'll never get out of this world alive.”

  3:05 A.M

  OK. 1-2-3, everybody sleep.

  POODIE SAYS IT'S ALRIGHT TO STEP ON YOUR DICK, JUST DON'T STAND ON IT.

  1:45 A.M., May 12

  JUST FINISHED A FUN GIG in Marksville, Louisiana, maybe one of our best. I also just finished the Ray Price album. It came out so good! I can tell you Ray is singing so fine you won't believe it. Only five weeks ago at Red's hospital, Hermann Hospital, in Houston, he was split down the middle for an aneurism. A few miracles later he is singing his ass off at World Headquarters in Luck, with Dr. Red Duke standing there listening to every note. I said it before and I'll say it again: Ray Price is the greatest country singer ever, period.