From the recording Somebody Call a Doctor
On a dismal rainy day in December in Detroit, I attended the funeral of my cousin Sandy, who was born the same year I was. I had last seen him at our cousin Zev’s funeral 5 months earlier. As if that were not enough of a memento mori, when the limo was leaving the cemetery, I passed by a large tombstone boldly displaying the name GORDON. My ruminations about funereal rites were the point of departure for this lugubrious light-hearted gospel dirge.
The verse referencing Bela Lugosi may benefit from some illumination. Lugosi was best known for playing Count Dracula in Tod Browning’s 1931 classic horror film Dracula. One of his most memorable lines from that performance was, “To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious!” Thereafter, he was mostly typecast as a horror villain, and after reprising the role of Dracula in the 1948 film Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, he fell into relative obscurity, suffering from opioid addiction as a sequela of severe sciatica. Late in life, Lugosi was befriended by Ed Wood. Wood shot some footage of Lugosi wearing his Dracula cape (in which he was buried) before Lugosi died in 1956. Wood posthumously incorporated the footage and used Lugosi’s name in the credits for his 1957 film Plan 9 from Outer Space (which won the Golden Turkey Award in 1980 for the Worst Film of All Time). Wood hired his wife’s chiropractor to double for Lugosi in additional shots, even though he was noticeably taller than and bore no physical resemblance to Lugosi, covering the lower part of his face with a Dracula cape.
With regard to Quasimodo, the ending of Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame is a bit darker than the 1996 Disney adaptation. Rather than saving Esmeralda and finally being accepted by the citizens of Paris, Esmeralda is hanged for a crime she did not commit, and Quasimodo lies down next to her corpse and dies of starvation.
Lyrics
It wasn’t long ago.
It wasn’t far way.
It wasn’t once upon a time.
It’s here and now, today.
You thought it was unthinkable.
It couldn’t happen here.
You thought you were invincible,
impervious to fear.
Somebody call a doctor.
Somebody call a nurse.
Somebody call an ambulance.
Somebody call a hearse.
Somebody call a rabbi.
Somebody call a priest.
Somebody call whoever you call
when you find out you’re deceased.
You were happy in your coal mine
with the gilded cage canaries
until you came across your name
in the obituaries.
It’s the usual cruel punishment.
Why should you be surprised?
Your body has betrayed you
and your soul’s been compromised.
Somebody carve a tombstone.
Somebody dig the dirt.
Somebody say the kaddish.
Somebody tear their shirt.
Somebody close the casket
Somebody cue the choir.
Somebody sing a threnody.
Somebody light the pyre.
They perform their rituals
to sublimate their grief.
It’s not our turn this time around,
much to our relief.
The preacher gives a eulogy,
extols what you achieved.
Nobody knows just what to say
to comfort the bereaved.
We say we’re sorry for their loss.
You’re in a better place.
We really don’t believe it
but we say so just in case.
Just like Bela Lugosi
in Plan 9 from Outer Space,
to die, to be really dead,
is an inglorious disgrace.
You knew this day was coming
with the ticking of the clock.
You knew that you were mortal,
so why is this a shock?
No, this cannot be happening.
There must be some mistake.
This is the final nightmare
from which you can’t awake.
A body that stays silent.
A body that lies still.
A body that’s inanimate,
that cannot feel the chill.
A body to buried.
A body to be burned.
Now that you’re disemebodied
to dust you’ll be returned.
When will our time be over?
Only time will tell.
Every story has an ending,
and most do not end well.
Remember Quasimodo?
Does that name ring a bell?
We’re still in Kansas, Toto,
but we’re on our way to hell.
Somebody call a doctor.
Somebody call a nurse.
Somebody call an ambulance.
Somebody call a hearse.
Somebody call a rabbi.
Somebody call a priest.
Somebody call whoever you call
when you find out you’re deceased.