Willie Nelson - The Facts of Life: and Other Dirty Jokes

T he first time I saw Willie Nelson he was upchucking in a gutter, somewhere around Sixth and Brazos, in Austin, Texasthe late sixties, that must have been. He had just ended his clean-cut phase. Though he looked as though his life expectancy might be about a week, I didn't attribute his digestive difficulties to drunkenness. Until dot.com cuisine reached Texas in the nineties, Austin was ever a treacherous place to eat. The man could well have run afoul of a bad tamale.

Imagine my surprise, ten years later, on a hazy morning in Malibu, where I was working on a screenplay with the producer Martin Starger, to see a somewhat mottled, somewhat wizened runner wearing a bandana headband come speeding along the beach.

Could that be Willie Nelson? I inquired.

The same, Marty replied.

By chance I once met President Bush, then in his gubernatorial mode, having his daily run. I doubt that he was running any faster than Willie ran on that hazy beach.

I've always liked Willie Nelson's music, and have admired his acting. His uncanny ability to play himself constantly surprises. I've only once suspected him of sophistryin a ballad called Luckenbach, Texas, whose rustic inhabitants are said to be feeling no pain. Probably the reason they're not feeling any is because they're so busy inflicting it on travelers unfortunate enough to stop there seeking a bathroom, a hamburger, or a tank of gas. Even the closemouthed Zuni are more forthcoming.

The Facts of Life and Other Dirty Jokes is a breezy and likable medley: scrapbooky, with lots of pictures of family and friends; songbooky, with many lyrics breaking up the text. Here and there we may get a short polemic, a bit of mild bawdry, even the occasional plunge into the jungles of human nature. The twenty-five pages of photographs at the end provide a cultural history of a sort: Willie's World. The book, like the music and the movies, appeals because Willie himself appeals. We'd all be smaller without him.

Larry McMurtry

I HAVE GIVEN A LITTLE THOUGHT to just what jokes would be proper or improper for this book. But, just a little. So, I would suggest that you read each one carefully, and then erase from your memory all the improper ones. Also, if you would just read every other word, they might be less offensive, and of course your reading time is then cut in half. However, for safety's sake, if you are a preteenager, please only read every third word. Thank you.

I CAN TELL BY THE
FEEL OF YOUR
THUMB THAT
YOU'RE A LITTLE
HESITANT TO TURN
THE PAGE

*

T hey say writing the first line of a book is the hardest part. Thank God that's over. Roger Miller said it must be true that the longer you live with your pet, the more you look alike. My neighbor came over this morning and chewed my ass out for shitting in his front yard. Thank you, Roger. I also have you to thank for the opening of my last bookI didn't come here and I ain't leaving.

My daughter Lana just asked me if I wanted a couple of ibuprofen. I said no, I save my pain for the show. We are in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for a concert at Cain's Ballroom, where Bob Wills and countless other great bands have performed in the last fifty years. The last time we were here, we had to move it to a larger place because of ticket sales, so we decided to do two days at Cain's this time.

Lana, Kinky Friedman, and I are responsible for the contents of this endeavor, which is to be one-part song lyrics, one-part photographs, and ten-parts bullshit. That's where I come in. I seem to be doing very well. I have ripped off my friend Roger twice already, bragged about how well we draw in Tulsa, and exposed my daughter Lana for offering me drugs before the show. How do you like me so far?

YOU DO KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE?

Yes. There's great confusion on earth, and the Power that is has concluded the following: Perfect man has visited earth already, and his voice was heard. The voice of imperfect man must now be made manifest, and I have been selected as the most likely candidate.

THE TIME IS APRIL, THEREFORE
YOU, A TAURUS, MUST GO. TO BE BORN
UNDER THE SAME SIGN TWICE ADDS
STRENGTH. THIS STRENGTH,
COMBINED WITH WISDOM AND LOVE,
IS THE KEY.

*

Explain to me again, Lord, why I'm here

I don't know

I don't know

The setting for the stage is still not clear

Where's the show?

Where's the show?

Let it begin, let it begin

I am born

Can you use me?

What would you have me do, Lord?

Shall I sing them a song?

I could tell them about you, Lord

I could sing of the loves I have known

I'll work in their cotton and corn fields

I promise I'll do all I can

I'll laugh and I'll cry

I'll live and I'll die

Please, Lord, let me be a man

Please, Lord, let me be a man

And I'll give it all that I can

If I'm needed in this distant land

Please, Lord, let me hold to your hand

Dear Lord, let me be a man

And I'll give it all that I can

If I'm needed in this distant land

Please Lord, let me be a man

L ANA , D AVID A NDERSON, SISTER B OBBIE , L.G., and Gates are regulars along with me on the bus, Honeysuckle Rose III. Ben Dorcy is not with us. Ben is now being preserved for trips in the near-Austin area. At seventy-six-years young, he is cutting his world tours considerably. But for all the millions of Ben Dorcy fans, Ben is alive and well. Well, alive anyway. Thank you, Ben, for many years of faithful service and wisdomIf you need a friend, buy a dog. We'll see you in Austin.

Cain's Ballroom was good tonight. The crowd was loud, which I like. The girls were pretty, which I like, and the guys were friendly. I forgot the words to Crazy and that's a first. Sammi Smith came by and sang Help Me Make It Through the Night. Her son, Waylon, and Waylon's dad, Jody Payne, joined in on Hey, Good Lookin' and Will the Circle Be Unbroken. Sammi's still singing like an angel.

On the road again

I just can't wait to get on the road again

The life I love is making music with my friends