The Ballad of Cathy and Beth

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.

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About Joseph S. Salemi

Joseph S. Salemi has published poems, translations, and scholarly articles in over one hundred journals throughout the United States, Canada, and Great Britain. His four collections of poetry are Formal Complaints and Nonsense Couplets, issued by Somers Rocks Press, Masquerade from Pivot Press, and The Lilacs on Good Friday from The New Formalist Press. He has translated poems from a wide range of Greek and Roman authors, including Catullus, Martial, Juvenal, Horace, Propertius, Ausonius, Theognis, and Philodemus. In addition, he has published extensive translations, with scholarly commentary and annotations, from Renaissance texts such as the Faunus poems of Pietro Bembo, the Facetiae of Poggio Bracciolini, and the Latin verse of Castiglione. He is a recipient of a Herbert Musurillo Scholarship, a Lane Cooper Fellowship, an N.E.H. Fellowship, and the 1993 Classical and Modern Literature Award. He is also a four-time finalist for the Howard Nemerov Prize.