The most culturally influential people in America
today are prissy little females from the white middle class.
—Derek Burgoyne
America’s ruled by a couple of chicks—
There’s one from the city, and one from the sticks.
The first is named Cathy, and Beth is her friend,
And both have stiff neckbones that never will bend.
They’re earnest and upright and firm in belief,
And if you oppose them, they’ll give you real grief.
Awash in a flurry of shoulds, musts, and oughts,
They’re happiest when they’re policing our thoughts.
A sign of this land’s intellectual death
Is the way we all kowtow to Cathy and Beth.
Now Cathy’s a Quaker who’s seen the True Light,
And Beth is a feminist, ready to fight—
Two peas in a pod, with identical vision:
Politicized fury and crackpot religion.
Together they make up a pugilist team
With iron fists gloved in vanilla ice cream.
They dictate and hector and browbeat and whine;
They argue and haggle and pout and opine;
And really, you’ll note that you can’t catch your breath
In the stifling pronouncements of Cathy and Beth.
They wag their white fingers, and furrow their brows
Until we’re as docile as thorazined cows.
They issue directives and policy guides,
And willingly teach us through lectures (with slides).
They point out our weaknesses, reprimand vice,
Distribute Smile buttons and tell us “Be nice!”
They’re pained if you’re boorish, or vaguely uncouth;
They cluck and they fuss and, to tell you the truth,
I’d rather O.D. on some crystalline meth
Than sit through the sermons of Cathy and Beth.
They live in propriety’s intricate skein—
They’re sensitive, caring; they feel others’ pain.
They smile when expected; they frown when they must;
They’re shocked by hard drinking, or smoking, or lust.
They never eat meat; they abominate furs;
They’re furious if you say his and not hers.
They speak with that nasally valley-girl whine
That grates like a rasp on the edge of your spine.
Cain murdered Abel—he would have killed Seth
If he’d had to listen to Cathy and Beth.
Our customs, procedures, our etiquette, laws;
The morals they cram down our unwilling craws;
The proper opinions, acceptable traits
In all these United (but pussy-whipped) States
Are given by Cathy and Beth, who insist
That nothing be done except what’s on their list.
Two prim little mistresses, governing all,
Who make us obey, or abashedly crawl—
Throughout our land’s width and its length and its breadth
We all have to answer to Cathy and Beth.
L’Envoi:
Prince, in your uniform natty and crisp;
Prince, with your startlingly audible lisp—
In light of my ballad, you’re bound to confeth
We ought to lobotomize Cathy and Beth.
