Happy Music for Happy People

Thursday, 2 nights ago. 8.00pm.
Local Church Hall.

"Hello everybody. My name is Eddie and I'm here tonight because I'm addicted....to polka music."
(Round of applause.....muffled statements of support and sympathy)
"I need help. I've been listening to polka for the last three weeks and I feel like it's taking over my life. It started as a laugh, a bit of a joke really. I didn't know it would get this serious. I never wanted to go this far......I'm even....thinking...of buying a costume. There, I said it. Fuck that feels good. I told myself I wasn't going to cry......"
(Even more muffled murmuring, this time with a hint of embarrassment)
"Don't worry Eddie. You are among friends here. We have all been there. We will help you."
"Thanks. I don't think I can do it alone. It's the accordion. I hear it in my head all the time, calling me. I can't resist. I'm powerless."
"No. You can do it. We will help you."
"I just want my life back. I don't want my daughter growing up ashamed that her dad was a polka freak."
"She will be proud of you Eddie. I promise you"

Saturday, Tonight, 7:00pm
My Living Room

I should have locked that fuckin channel out. I should have had Mrs.Waring put the parental lock on the satellite receiver so that I just couldn't watch it even if I tried. But no. I thought I was strong enough. I thought that even if I did happen to surf onto the RFD TV channel, he would not be on and I would just keep on clicking through the dross, trying to find something interesting to take my mind of THAT. I was wrong, but it was too late. I felt a surge of adrenalin which quickly turned into a surge of nausea and my fingers froze, unable to change the channel, my legs had turned to jelly, I couldn't even get up and leave the room. I tried to call Mrs.Waring for help, but my mouth was dry and all I could manage was an inaudible croak. The Singing Slovenes were halfway through a number on The Big Joe Polka Show. Kicking this habit is going to be hard work. I'm hopelessly addicted and Big Joe is my dealer. He's a ruthless bastard as well. Once you are in, you are in, there is only one way out.

Big Joe orders a hit on some brothers who owe him cheese.

It's not even good Polka music. I don't even know if there is such a thing as good Polka music, although the fact that I know this is bad must suggest there has to be better. Big Joe is constantly hawking his catalogue of CD's, DVD's (and would you believe cassettes?), and I have been spending about $100 a week on the habit. Things are getting tight and the mortgage is due. I may have to sell the family heirlooms, (a VCR and an 8 Track player). I'm not sure I can hold out much longer. The sleepless nights seem endless as I lie there in a cold sweat. If I just listen for a little while it's okay.

For those of you unlucky enough not to receive RFD-TV on you cable or satellite system. The Big Joe Polka Show appears to travel through rural America, putting on dances in prefabricated town halls and community centres in what seem to be small towns populated entirely by white 50+ polka freaks. Big Joe showcases about four different bands each week, some have recurring appearances. They all have CD's out, which he tries to sell, but they are for the most part painfully, hilariously amateur. Out of tune, off key, out of rhythm and they look fuckin terrible. Add to this an aging crowd shuffling aimlessly about the dance floor, bumping into one another and wearing matching his and hers outfits and you have an addictive TV show that is hard to resist. It's like watching a freeway accident. You cannot look away.

One of Big Joe's catchprases, maybe his only catchphrase is "Happy Music for Happy People". I would concur that these people seem very happy, probably just to be alive, but also 'cause they probably don't get out that often. Their fashions suggest about once a decade, maybe less. I know, they are old and old people are less conscious of such things than us young 'uns are but some of these threads have to be seen to be believed.

As for Big Joe himself, he is usually found sporting a chiffon shirt with frilly front, pastel covered cummerbund and an accordion themed waistcoat. Despite his poor judgement and choice of oufit, he is not gay. In fact rumour has it that he is a vicious pimp and is also into running moonshine along with the bootleg polka CD's. I already owe him several hundred dollars and I'm sure he will be coming after me soon.

I'll be locked in the bedroom if anyone wants me....