"Blind Lemon Jefferson"

By Mike Rothschild

I wish I was an old time blues singer.

(BARELY PAYING ATTENTION) Uh huh.

I've been depressed for weeks. If I was an old time bluesman, I'd be able to express my anguish in a healthier way.

Healthy? Those guys lived in misery and died young, from things that nobody dies of. Like whooping cough or the flu. Or they got shot or poisoned by evil women and jealous men.

That'd the ticket for what ails me. Hitchin' rides across the south, just me and my old git-ar. Playing juke joints and parties, anywhere they'd have me. Always wearing a three-piece suit and a hat, even in the summer. Gettin' chased out of town by stuffy church folks and jealous husbands.

Or having the white music industry rape your legacy so you can die in the gutter and be buried in an unmarked grave.

Aw, don't blame whitey. It was just the times.

Look, you can't be a bluesman. You don't sing, you can't play guitar, you don't own a three piece suit OR a hat and you're not, you know, black.

The blues aren't about color or talent. They're about soul.

And your soul is that of a dorky white guy.

First, I'd need is a cool name. Every good bluesman's name has three things in it: a physical malady, a fruit and the name of a President. For example, Blind Lemon Jefferson. I'd call myself "Deaf Orange Jackson".

If you were deaf, how could you hear yourself play?

Good point. OK, then say hello to "Mute Apple Washington".

Yeah, but then you couldn't sing. You'd be mute.

That's no good. OK, "Lame Banana Hayes".

You don't want "lame" in your name. Think of the reviews: "Lame Banana Hayes: the name says it all."

Being a bluesman is harder than I thought. What about "Diabetic Cucumber Truman"?

Cucumber is a vegetable. You're breaking your own rules.

"Retarded Kumquat..."

OK, stop. It's just not gonna work. You can't be an old time bluesman, and that's just the end of it.

Could I at least be a blues shouter?

No.

How about a crooner? A belter? Oooh, I've got it! A jazz scatter! Skiddly-diddly-biddly-boodly-biddly-BOP!

Never do that again.

I didn't mean to crush your dreams. But being a bluesman is a hard life, and you're not exactly a hard guy. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt, that's all.

I understand. Who am I kidding? Just because I have the blues doesn't mean I can sing them. I'll just deal with my sadness the white people usually do, through drinking and self-loathing.

"Fat Mango Roosevelt".

Hey, that's not bad. I dig it, honky cat.