Wow. One thing I hear a lot is, people say, "What's this with you and Jazz? What's the beef with you and Jazz music?"

I say, "Well, I really hate Jazz."

They say, "What do you hate about poor old Jazz?"

I say, "The sound. The sound that Jazz instruments make when they're being manipulated by Jazz players to the delight of Jazz respondents. I think of it as musical barf."

They say, "I don't think you've given Jazz a chance."

Well, I maintain, I haven't given suicide a chance, but. . .Well, I did give suicide a chance, but that was only because I was threatened with Jazz. You know. Jazz music.

One thing I hate is being woken up in the middle of the night, when I'm dreaming about, say, promiscuity with dignity, by a rap-tap-tappin' on my window by those guys with goatee things on their faces, saying, "Hey. Can we come in? Beano's clarinet's gettin' wet." And then they go into this sorta Gene Krupa trance. Jazz schmazz. I'm sorry; I've got to go that far. Jazz schmazz.

You know what? I'd like to declare this a Jazz-free zone, about forty miles as far as the Jazz-hatin' crow flies in any direction. Just paradise. Those guys would go to work, and it wouldn't be there.

I'm gonna ask a question. What sort of music do you think there is in hell? You know, H-E-double hockey sticks? Well, I think it's probably hateful, free-form Jazz. And in heaven? Country and Western music. The choice is pretty obvious. It's not Jazz. It's not bop-a-dop bop-be-bop-bo Jazz. What's that? A recorder or something? I'm not into it. Fuzz pedal, that's what I'm into. You know?