The memorial for my old friend David Warren on January 2, 2010 included this little ditty I colaborated in writing with singer/songwriter Bob Lesoine a week before the memorial (held at Playland Not-At-The-Beach in El Cerrito California). Bob had worked with David in the late 1970s when they performed a cabaret show called "The Year They Tore Down Playland At the Beach" in San Francisco. It was a great time with Bob thinking back on those days while we both came up with lyrics for the song.

R. J. Mololepozy was David Warren's pen name. Inside the many boxes Dave left behind were piles of spiral notebooks filled with writings, poems and observations. Many of these were done while he sat inside the Giant Camera's ticket booth day after day. Other writings were associated with earlier projects of his. The song was intended as a framing device for friends of Dave to come up on stage and read excerpts from these writings. The recording was made at the memorial and edited a bit to make it shorter.    —  Steve Mobia  

SINGER / PIANO PLAYER: Bob Lesoine

READERS: Bob Campbell, Don Herron, Ron Rosen, Carrie Galbraith, Barry Brilliant, John Law

John Law gets pied by Barry Brilliant after reading Dave's "will."
photos by Scott Beale for Laughing Squid

R.J. Mololepozy sitting by the seaside
Viewing the world inside his camera
He wrote some verses down
In these he would confide
His observations and ephemera
from inside the Giant Camera

A long time ago, in the beginning of man's experience, there was the word. And the word was GRUNT. It said a lot, it expressed his need. It said "me too." It showed his love. It expressed his desire. It cleaned his bowel, it welcomed friends. No Webster defined its meaning. Understanding gave way to intelligence. Soon, give or take a few thousand years, men knew the moon was blue only once in nineteen years and in China people walked around upside-down, and when relatives came over for dinner they hardly ever did the dishes. And man became wise and bought a dog.

R J Mololepozy mused upon the world
For thoughts of grand designs for fun
Distorted images, and frowns turned upside down
He had the humdrum on the run . . . He had the humdrum on the run  

This morning, I wrote all over the eye that rides our pyramid: We have nothing more to fear, the Invisible Man is dead!

What if your were an ant... existing in a cubicle one foot wide, one foot high and one foot long. Would you remain in one solitary inch and never move? Or, would you walk every wall and peer into every corner, or perhaps look for a grain of wheat...or sand...something that is different. And what if you found a pebble, would your push it from wall to wall or put it in the corner...and look at it? And if you put it in the corner...and looked at it....when you grew old would you wish that when you were young....you had pushed it?

Yesterday's gone forever
Today's yet not here

As I sit at the typewriter
I have nothing to fear
Nothing to fear

Friends and demons are abundant
sometimes it's hard 
to tell which is witch

We could all be dead tomorrow
that's a son-of-a-bitch

And who would ever know those days would ever end
And his many dreams would live on inside his friends
He's probably somewhere now laughing at us all
Waiting for another curtain call

The responsibilty entrusted in you for the care and feeding of your Venus Fly Trap cannot be over emphasized. Choosing the right name for your flytrap can be a ticklish business and may make a difference to the growth and development of the plant. 

The first name we offer, for obvious reasons is "Snappy."  This is by far the most popular flytrap name.  However before attaching this moniker to your flytrap check around your neighborhood.   Talk to other flytrappers on your block.  It is not good to have more than one "Snappy" on the same block.  This tends to break down a flytrap's feeling of individuality, independence and many of the benefits that develop from having a non-competitive name.  "Chondoo", is a good name to consider for your flytrap.  It is highly unlikely there will be another "Chondoo" on your block.

R J Mololepozy
Captain of the freak show
I know his flame will never die
Is that him waiting for your face
around the corner
To hit you with a coconut cream pie.

Today America is faced with many problems and the Institute of the Inconsequential is trying to solve them.  As an example: did you know that 1950 was the year the Miss America Pageant decided to choose the winner for the next year instead?  They knew they could make more money if she was around longer.  

And so we are left without due representation!  We need to re-stage this event with eighty five thousand seven hundred and fifty contestants.  All of their photographs will be placed on 1700 blackboards to create a 102 square foot picture of Laughing Sal.  The individual photographs will be mounted according to their light density to form this giant picture of the great laughing lady.  Next, a bi-plane will drop a small red streamer on the mass of candidates and the winner will be Miss America 1950 -- (it could even be a man).

The Will:

To all my friends I've come to love and care about, I'm leaving quite a mess of things and stuff for others to straighten out.

Oh, and this post script:  Since much of my hair has turned gray by this date and is accumulating in ever increasing numbers in my comb, I've decided to start saving my hair as it comes forth by way of the comb.  I will collect it in a coffee can and wash the collected strands.  It would please me greatly if after some kind of tribal cutting up of this gray matter, it would be added to a small can of paint as Gary Warne's ashes were, then painted with him at the top of the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge so that I too may follow his path into the future sunrises and sunsets overlooking our beloved city of choice.  John Law and Jayson Wechter, this final request is left to you. (gets hit with pie)

Saving all the fake rocks
Naked on a street car
Venus Fly trap salesman
Dining on The Bridge
He is now a legend not only in his own mind
Cause now they've put that legend in the fridge
 
(spoken) That's right folks, incase you haven’t heard shortly after his demise RJ's head was severed from his body and at this very moment is being kept on life support in a cryo unit somewhere in LA between the heads of Walt Disney and Ted Williams where it will remain for as many years as takes to find a cure for the terrible disease that brought poor old R J down . . . the disease of . . . . . . . .FOOLISHNESS!!

R J Mololepozy
Back again among us
Alive as if he never left!
R J Mololepozy 
Master of the Mystery
I mean  . . . mystery of the mastery
Mystery of the master . . . bater  . . . bla, bla, bla, etc.
(music deteriorates into chaos and confusion.)
(singer shouts)  No, R J, you can’t do you fire eating act in here!  You’ll burn down the place!
(more chaos) Who WAS that guy? ( music punctuates a sudden end!)