Come home Olivia

You know Olivia?  That famous person?  She's the one who wears her sunglasses while she's walking on the sidewalk.  If you see her, ask her for a photo or a scrawling or a small bronze coin, or one of her leashed birds.  Sometimes these famous people, though, they won't give you the time of day, like they don't know that YOU'RE the one buying tickets to their exhibitions!

I saw a famous man once -- his name was Bob.  You probably know him!  Bob.  He went around and shook everyone's hand.  For his big show he played the trumpet.  This was back before everybody had trumpets.  Nowadays EVERYBODY'S got a trumpet.  It's not so exciting anymore.  But back then, only the most famous people had trumpets.

People used to say about Olivia, that she wasn't really talented or good-looking like most of your famous people -- she was only famous because she had a trumpet.  And sure, it was a little suspicious, how it seemed like every week she just HAPPENED to get photographed carrying her trumpet case down the street from her music lessons, but you hardly even notice that these days, seems like every snot-nosed little kid on the street has his own trumpet case, every squeak-voiced little freak, every tit-suckling little piss-freak.  Jesus, the filthy vermin with their filthy, spit-spewing trumpets, PPR PP PPRR PP PPR PPR PPRR, stop stop stop it you stupid pricks, you're never going to be famous!  Put your trumpet away!  Cease the brass assault upon our ears!  Are you Christian?  Do you believe in GOD?  In mercy?  Then please, PLEASE, put the trumpets away!  Melt them down, pour them down the drain, send them to hell.  Fame isn't so great, isn't so vital, isn't so desirable that it justifies blow-blow-blowing into those trumpets...WHEN A MAN IS TRYING TO SLEEP!

I wanted to be famous, too, when I was a boy.  I went to a camp, it was a camp for those who wanted to be famous, we all picked a talent, whether it be dancing or singing or playing a trumpet or anything like that, and then the counselors taught us how.  I wanted to be an actor.  I got on stage the first day and did my monologue and the counselor told me I was a marginal talent.  The other boys chased me off and threw my duffel bag into the pond and I never ate a meal with another person, that summer, I sat by myself in the corner, there wasn't even no room at the table for a marginal talent like myself.  I took it rough, and my parents, they were no dummies, they knew a kid like me had no chance surviving at a camp like that, so when I got home after the summer was over there was a little gold trumpet sitting on the bed.  I thanked them and thanked them, but then when they were asleep, I put the trumpet in the trash and I watched the trash truck take it away that very next morning.  The other side of fame is hard and unforgiving, I know it is, it's a hungry trap waiting to be sprung, so put your trumpet down and come home to me, Olivia and I'll tell you I love you even if you never play another note.