The Sadness of America

[Humberto Torofuerte]

Ya know...all this bourgeois self-loathing puts me in mind of that hit
single from Pulp (of which the Shatner version is priceless)...

She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge,
she studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College,
that's where I,
caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded,
I said "In that case I'll have a rum and coca-cola."
She said "Fine."
and in thirty seconds time she said,

"I want to live like common people,
I want to do whatever common people do,
I want to sleep with common people,
I want to sleep with common people,
like you."

Well what else could I do -
I said "I'll see what I can do."
I took her to a supermarket,
I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere,
so it started there.
I said pretend you've got no money,
she just laughed and said,
"Oh you're so funny."
I said "yeah?
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here.

Are you sure you want to live like common people,
you want to see whatever common people see,
you want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people,
like me."

But she didn't understand,
she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop,
cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool,
pretend you never went to school.
But still you'll never get it right,
cos when you're laid in bed at night,
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you call your Dad he could stop it all.

You'll never live like common people,
you'll never do what common people do,
you'll never fail like common people,
you'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance and drink and screw,
because there's nothing else to do.

Sing along with the common people,
sing along and it might just get you through,
laugh along with the common people,
laugh along even though they're laughing at you,
and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.



On 10/12/05, Joel Katz <mittelwerk at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> i don't know what kept the nam vet down but neither he nor a garbageman or
> news vendor constitute my definition of an underclass writeoff. i grew up
> in working-class brooklyn. my father was, yep, a beeper salesman, and i
> knew a couple of guys in high school who later became garbagemen.
>
> what i meant by the remark was the violent or nihilistic poor. their kind
> of disorder is the mirror image of, say, john ashcroft's version of law
> and
> order. it's a curse they pass on to their children -- and it's often the
> only thing they pass on.
>
> i agree absolutely about class interaction. but class division is such an
> abyss in this country, and so strenuously enforced (both consciously and
> un), that it's almost extinct. ever since college, i only come in contact
> with the working class in service situations (which is to say, they're
> working and i'm not). and i'm not rich by any stretch -- it's just that
> cultural divisions track class ones. we sleep, eat, and amuse ourselves in
> different worlds, usually right on top of each other. in my father's time,
> beeper salesman were buddies with lawyers were buddies with bar owners.
>
>
>
>
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