More Bill Cope:
Now for the bad news: The opera, Der Decidermeister, will be presented in its entirety only in the online version of Boise Weekly.
And here's why: As it's only been three weeks since I decided to do this in time for Bush's last day in the White House, the paper was unprepared to present an entire opera on these pages. It's not their fault. Had I warned them well ahead of time—eight years ago, or even six months—that an opera was headed their way, they would have made certain there were an extra 10 pages or so on which it might fit.
Sadly, 10 (or so) spare pages are hard to come by in the current newspaper market—especially in January. You see, advertisers generally take a break in January. They wear themselves to a frazzle during the holidays, advertising away like their survival depended on it, then during January, they kick back and chill. And since it is advertising that determines how many pages a newspaper will contain when it comes out, January is slim pickings for the newspaper biz, even if the economy is tearing along like a brand new brass locomotive. Which it ain't.
But, since online pages are free, there is plenty of room at boiseweekly.com for my opera. If in last week's column, I got your hopes all up and stuff that this morning, you would be able to dunk your favorite biscotti into your favorite commercially prepared mug of French roast at your favorite retail coffee dispensary, all while enjoying a mellifluous singalong of Der Decidermeister, I apologize. It just didn't work out.
But what I can do for the remaining few column inches is give you a taste of what you're in for should you surf on over to our Web site—let me repeat: boiseweekly.com—and click up the opera. I give you an excerpt, a tease ... an opera trailer, if you will ... in hopes to draw you in.
Curtain rises on George Bush as a young man in his Texas Air Guard uniform, cavorting with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a tightly rolled 20-dollar bill in the other. He sings (tune of "I'm Just A Girl Who Can't Say No"):
I'm just an aimless rich boy drunk,
skating on Daddy's good name.
At heart I'm nothing but a punk,
playing a fake grown-up game.
George puts on mortar board with tassel dangling in his face.
I pretend I am a Yalie, learning
But even my "C" av-er-age is com-
I didn't learn a damn thing but how
to tap a keg, you see?
I only got to Yale because I was
Repeat refrain and trade mortar board for a flight helmet.
I pretend that I'm a pilot, training
for Veet Naaam
But no way I'm really going there,
'cause I'm a gonna scram.
Trades flight helmet for a Texas Rangers baseball cap.
I pretend I am a C-E-O,
but everything I own
goes promptly down the crapper;
I can't count the deals I've blown.
That's all I can give you at present, opera lovers. Now get on over to boiseweekly.com for the whole thing from start to fini. And remember to switch your cell phones to vibrate.
=== This was meant for Inauguration Day, which it is, but you won't get to it before at least tomorrow because there is way more important stuff going on.