Yowl for Jay McInerney, by Christopher Buckley and Paul Slansky
I
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by stress frazzled overtired burnt-out,
jogging through thsuburban streets at dawn as suggested by the late James Fixx,
carrer-minded yupsters burning for an Amstel Light watching Stupid Pet Tricks,
who upwardly mobile and designer;d and bright-eyed and high sat up working in the track-lit glow of the Tribeca loft skimming through the Day Timer while padding the expense account,
who passed through universities adn saved their asses halluciniating Grateful Dead posters adn eating Sara Lee while watching the war on TV;
who were graduated and went on to law schools burning to save the world,
who brewed decaffeinated coffee doing their yoga in alligator shirts and listened to the latest Windham Hill Sampler,
who ate chocolate crossants in outdoor cafes adn drank blush wine on Columbus Avenue washed down with a little Percodan with Dove Bars
with Diet Coke with Lean Cuisine,
stoppint by on the way home for a bound of David's cookies telling each other of their fears of intimacy and their need for space and inavility to
Commiit-for now
who watched Mary Tyler Moore reruns and wept for Rhonda and worried about acid rain and the mercury in the swordfish while strung out on
cyclamates faces flushed with MSG even after specifically making a point of mentioning to the waiter not to put it in,
who prowled through uncertain money markets chewing Tums and doing lines with the Hispanics in the mail room sitting in the gents with baby-laxative runs while the boss buzzes adn the secretary says you're on the phone to Bonn,
who stayed up too late working out their relationships'n'things feeling the gnawing rat-fear that they hadn't been communicating lately
and the urgent punding screaming need to think about their priorities,
yacketayakking analyzing thinking it through making constructive suggestions as the eastern sky flamed in Ralph Lauren pastels,
got to get away for a few days but the Hartmann luggage is being repaired oh,
who needs this wandering through Needless-Markup wailing (inside) for the baby seals and the bunnies slaughtered for lipstick remembering all the unanswered anti-vivisection junk mail on the way to the appliance sectino to beg another blade for the Cuisinart,
who subscribed to Gourmet and American Lawyer and after exhausting search found Jamacian time-shares in the classifieds for only
$1200 a month coping as best they could with the Nego beach boys wanting to sell them ganja,
paying outrageous sums for bottld water and having to complain about the maid service and the warm orange guice knowing they should
have gone to Cape Cod instead where the Peugeot mopeds fart carbon monioxide and the half-eaten lobster rolls rot in wax paper on the sidewalks and the Republican men in lime-green corduroys with little orange elephants brey as their wives buy overpriced scrimshaw,
who nudged and nuzzled over margaritas adn dreamed of endless throbbing hot sticke sex mut Not tonite dear I have a yeast infection,
running on spongy Reeboks to sublimate their lust then plunged into Bright Lights, Big City,
who upped their nightly hits of Valium from two to five mgs adn worried if they were going to be groggy in teh morning,
who hollow-eyed and febrile read the theater reviews in unread issues of New Yorker yes the New Yorker,
who watched re-reruns of Mary Tyler Moore adn decided they hated Rhonda,
who skimmed the Banana Republic catalog with brain-dead gaze wondering if they really needed Ethopian saddlebags,
who padded back and forth to teh john for endless glasses of water while worrying about refinancing at ten adn an eighth and waited for
the fiendish tweet of birds adn teh thud of the Wall Street Journal on the porch,
who took a little tootsky after their Yoplait just to get going and Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzed along in the carpool yattering to the gray-flannelled
bootisatvas in the backseat about rowing machines and Eddie Murphy's homo jokes,
ah Jay while you are not safe I am not safe and now Ransom is remaindered at Waldenbooks and you're feally in a bind-
and who therefore drown in butter-flavored popcorn at the Cineplex as the answering machines cutely speak to strangers and Discover
cards are mailed to the incorrect addresses while Mohawked clerks at Tower Records with little crusifixes in their ears play "Pillow Talk"
and everything you want they only have in Beta.
II
Yuck! Gross! Eeewww! Buying crack from zombies in the park! Closing out the trust fund! Checking into rehab!
III
Jay McInerey! Im with you at Area
where the shark swims on the wall
I'm with you David Letterman on the tower
where you drop watermelons andn TVs adn bowling balls
I'm with you Gary Hart in New Hampshire
where you stammer and yammer about New Ideas
I'm with you Don Johnson in Miami
where you don't wear socks
I'm with you Jerry Rubin on Wall Street
where you only hear yippie when the Dow hits a high
I'm wity you Donald Trump on Fifth Avenue
where Steven Spielberg has an apartment in your building
I'm with you John McEnroe in England
where you appear on world television treatign people like scum
I'm with you Maria Shriver in Hyannisport
where a wedding gift from Kurt Walkheim has arrived
I"m with you John Zaccaro at Middlebury
where you persue independent study projects
I'm with you Doctor Ruth on cable
where you giggle wity your guests about orgasm
I'm with you Ron Jr cavorting
in your underwear on national television
I'm with you Mike Deaver in Bitburg
where your mind was on buying a car
I"m with you Billy Crystal in too many places
where your routines have not aged well
I'm with you Brooke Shields at Princeton
where you- but who cares?
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
pricing modems
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
stopping into the Food Emporium for a quart of lo-fat milk
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
eatign sushi and Ecstacy
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
looking for myself in People magazine
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by stress frazzled overtired burnt-out,
jogging through thsuburban streets at dawn as suggested by the late James Fixx,
carrer-minded yupsters burning for an Amstel Light watching Stupid Pet Tricks,
who upwardly mobile and designer;d and bright-eyed and high sat up working in the track-lit glow of the Tribeca loft skimming through the Day Timer while padding the expense account,
who passed through universities adn saved their asses halluciniating Grateful Dead posters adn eating Sara Lee while watching the war on TV;
who were graduated and went on to law schools burning to save the world,
who brewed decaffeinated coffee doing their yoga in alligator shirts and listened to the latest Windham Hill Sampler,
who ate chocolate crossants in outdoor cafes adn drank blush wine on Columbus Avenue washed down with a little Percodan with Dove Bars
with Diet Coke with Lean Cuisine,
stoppint by on the way home for a bound of David's cookies telling each other of their fears of intimacy and their need for space and inavility to
Commiit-for now
who watched Mary Tyler Moore reruns and wept for Rhonda and worried about acid rain and the mercury in the swordfish while strung out on
cyclamates faces flushed with MSG even after specifically making a point of mentioning to the waiter not to put it in,
who prowled through uncertain money markets chewing Tums and doing lines with the Hispanics in the mail room sitting in the gents with baby-laxative runs while the boss buzzes adn the secretary says you're on the phone to Bonn,
who stayed up too late working out their relationships'n'things feeling the gnawing rat-fear that they hadn't been communicating lately
and the urgent punding screaming need to think about their priorities,
yacketayakking analyzing thinking it through making constructive suggestions as the eastern sky flamed in Ralph Lauren pastels,
got to get away for a few days but the Hartmann luggage is being repaired oh,
who needs this wandering through Needless-Markup wailing (inside) for the baby seals and the bunnies slaughtered for lipstick remembering all the unanswered anti-vivisection junk mail on the way to the appliance sectino to beg another blade for the Cuisinart,
who subscribed to Gourmet and American Lawyer and after exhausting search found Jamacian time-shares in the classifieds for only
$1200 a month coping as best they could with the Nego beach boys wanting to sell them ganja,
paying outrageous sums for bottld water and having to complain about the maid service and the warm orange guice knowing they should
have gone to Cape Cod instead where the Peugeot mopeds fart carbon monioxide and the half-eaten lobster rolls rot in wax paper on the sidewalks and the Republican men in lime-green corduroys with little orange elephants brey as their wives buy overpriced scrimshaw,
who nudged and nuzzled over margaritas adn dreamed of endless throbbing hot sticke sex mut Not tonite dear I have a yeast infection,
running on spongy Reeboks to sublimate their lust then plunged into Bright Lights, Big City,
who upped their nightly hits of Valium from two to five mgs adn worried if they were going to be groggy in teh morning,
who hollow-eyed and febrile read the theater reviews in unread issues of New Yorker yes the New Yorker,
who watched re-reruns of Mary Tyler Moore adn decided they hated Rhonda,
who skimmed the Banana Republic catalog with brain-dead gaze wondering if they really needed Ethopian saddlebags,
who padded back and forth to teh john for endless glasses of water while worrying about refinancing at ten adn an eighth and waited for
the fiendish tweet of birds adn teh thud of the Wall Street Journal on the porch,
who took a little tootsky after their Yoplait just to get going and Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzed along in the carpool yattering to the gray-flannelled
bootisatvas in the backseat about rowing machines and Eddie Murphy's homo jokes,
ah Jay while you are not safe I am not safe and now Ransom is remaindered at Waldenbooks and you're feally in a bind-
and who therefore drown in butter-flavored popcorn at the Cineplex as the answering machines cutely speak to strangers and Discover
cards are mailed to the incorrect addresses while Mohawked clerks at Tower Records with little crusifixes in their ears play "Pillow Talk"
and everything you want they only have in Beta.
II
Yuck! Gross! Eeewww! Buying crack from zombies in the park! Closing out the trust fund! Checking into rehab!
III
Jay McInerey! Im with you at Area
where the shark swims on the wall
I'm with you David Letterman on the tower
where you drop watermelons andn TVs adn bowling balls
I'm with you Gary Hart in New Hampshire
where you stammer and yammer about New Ideas
I'm with you Don Johnson in Miami
where you don't wear socks
I'm with you Jerry Rubin on Wall Street
where you only hear yippie when the Dow hits a high
I'm wity you Donald Trump on Fifth Avenue
where Steven Spielberg has an apartment in your building
I'm with you John McEnroe in England
where you appear on world television treatign people like scum
I'm with you Maria Shriver in Hyannisport
where a wedding gift from Kurt Walkheim has arrived
I"m with you John Zaccaro at Middlebury
where you persue independent study projects
I'm with you Doctor Ruth on cable
where you giggle wity your guests about orgasm
I'm with you Ron Jr cavorting
in your underwear on national television
I'm with you Mike Deaver in Bitburg
where your mind was on buying a car
I"m with you Billy Crystal in too many places
where your routines have not aged well
I'm with you Brooke Shields at Princeton
where you- but who cares?
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
pricing modems
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
stopping into the Food Emporium for a quart of lo-fat milk
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
eatign sushi and Ecstacy
I'm with you on the Upper East Side
looking for myself in People magazine