Dead Milkmen – Stuart

You know what, Stuart, I LIKE YOU. You’re not like the other

people, here, in the trailer park.

Oh, don’t go get me wrong. They’re fine people, they’re

good Americans. But they’re content to sit back, maybe

watch a little Mork and Mindy on channel 57, maybe kick

back a cool, Coors 16-ouncer. They’re good, fine people,

Stuart. But they don’t know … what the queers are doing

to the soil!

You know that Johnny Worker kid, the kid that delivers papers

in the neighborhood. He’s a fine kid. Some of the neighbors

say he smokes crack, but I don’t believe it.

Anyway, for his tenth birthday, all he wanted was a Burrow Owl.

Kept bugging his old man. «Dad, get me a burrow owl. I’ll never

ask for anything else as long as I live.» So the guy

breaks down and buys him a burrow owl.

Anyway, 10:30, the other night, I go out in my yard, and there’s

the Worker kid, looking up in the tree. I say, «What are

you looking for?» He says «I’m looking for my burrow owl.»

I say, «Jumping Jesus on a Pogo Stick. Everybody knows

the burrow owl lives. In a hole. In the ground. Why the hell do you

think they call it a burrow owl, anyway?» Now Stuart, do you

think a kid like that is going to know what the queers are

doing to the soil?

I first became aware of this about ten years ago, the summer

my oldest boy, Bill Jr. died. You know that carnival comes into

town every year? Well this year they came through with a ride

called The Mixer. The man said, «Keep your head, and arms, inside

the Mixer at all times.» But Bill Jr, he was a DAAAREDEVIL, just

like his old man. He was leaning out saying «Hey everybody,

Look at me! Look at me!» Pow! He was decapitated! They found

his head over by the snow cone concession.

A few days after that, I open up the mail. And there’s a pamphlet

in there. From Pueblo, Colorado, and it’s addressed to Bill, Jr.

And it’s entitled, «Do you know what the queers are doing to our

soil?»

Now, Stuart, if you look at the soil around any large US city where

there’s a large underground homosexual population. Des Moines, Iowa,

for an example. Look at the soil around Des Moines, Stuart.

You can’t build on it; you can’t grow anything in it. The government

says it’s due to poor farming. But I know what’s really going on,

Stuart. I know it’s the queers. They’re in it with the aliens.

They’re building landing strips for gay Martians, I swear to God.

You know what, Stuart, I like you. You’re not like the other

people, here in this trailer park