“Mobile Home Provocateur”

 

c. 2022 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(9-22)

 

Years ago,

As the 21^st Century yawned and awakened, decidedly slow

While deep into an evening binge of strong drink

I teetered on the brink

Of an idea that a more civilized self might have eschewed

Not intending to be callous, or rude

I opined over my bourbon glass

That a favored TV host

Ought to make the most

Of an opportunity provided by his weekly dumpster dive

Recorded live

But peppered with censoring bleeps

A substitute for expletives, more appropriate for the urban streets

It seemed quite proper to note

That this fellow who once campaigned for political votes

Might now take his broadcasting skills on the road

I reckoned, in a caravan of cameras and cables

So far flung, as they were able

Perhaps drifting with purpose from one mobile community to the next

Trailer to trailer

Seeking blue-collar grunts, wiping grime from their windshields

After laboring in the industrial fields

My wife at the time was sour on this proposition

She took a contrarian position

“Are you willfully disposed to playing the role of a hack?”

She shot back

Curling her lower lip with a mood of disgust

I had to pause while she fussed!

“No, no, hear me out, this would be genius at work!

That damned fellow who was mayor of Cincinnati is more than a video jerk!”

I suggested that he might

Travel under the cover of night

Forward to a prefabricated oasis, different from the first

Extolling the gritty values of humble folks in denim trousers, and checkered shirts

Then if that were not enough to satisfy

I thought he should fly

To Europe and the nation of France

Where, by chance

He might spark condescension with a brash bit of redneck fire

Navel gazing, perhaps

But a solid ratings pitch to executives in Fedora hats

A backwards, Parkour curve into the audience itself

That first made it possible for the Ringmaster

To cause such a stir

When a sober mind followed this bit of bottled inspiration from the liquor shelf

I sent my thoughts to Jerry, himself!

Written in a note that I sealed with care

A typewritten submission, folded in a paper square

My spouse would not let his image be displayed in our house

I found a boxed figure, vended on ebay

She wanted to throw it away!

“That chap is a disgusting little rogue!” she hissed

“Look at his eyes! There’s something amiss!”

I nodded and bent my knees in a pose of submission

But mailed the envelope

With a fervent hope

That my message would get through the battle lines, drawn

To my scandalous king, from his viewer, and pawn

It took more than a few days with the postal service in flux

But eventually, there was a reply

I read it, on the sly

While sat in my pickup truck

The letter came with a glossy photograph

A publicity pose, with his face uncovered

I had to muffle my laugh, for fear of being discovered

“Touring trailer parks for a kick, or visiting France, better still!

I’d gladly jump on a jet if my producers would cover the bill!”

I pumped my fist in the air, and chanted with glee

I repeated that hallowed name, times three

A new energy caused my heart to thump

With thoughts of the archival dump

That might be sired while the recorders rolled

And guests of honor bared their souls

Prostitutes and priests, fallen into worldly sin

Transvestites and loners leaping on the head of a pin

Domestic bickering

While the gaffers had their stage lights a’ flickering

Cheaters and hucksters and down-on-their-lucksters

All sat waiting their turn

Fifteen minutes of fame

Reduced to a VHS clip

A brief visual blip

With a disclaimer that the programming itself might offend

And should only be shared with friends

Who are casually open in their mindset, and willing to be entertained

Complainers may refrain

From lodging protests with prudish pride

Doubters may cover their eyes

All of this I had in mind

When gingerly holding Mr. Springer’s signature in my trembling fingertips

I read it over and again

Before stashing the document in my glovebox

I made sure the compartment was locked!

My significant other was waiting at the front door

I tried to summon an expression of bland repose

Held a finger to my nose

And whispered under my breath

“This pen-pal adventure has been quite a success!”

 

(Written about a letter I sent to Jerry Springer in the early 2000’s, with show ideas. He graciously responded, and sent a publicity photo – to be featured in my next volume of lyrics and poetry.)