(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell)

Tonight's show is brought to you by Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

(CLICK OF COMPUTER KEYS) You're sitting in your tiny cubicle writing a reply to a meaningless report (SS: Drivel!) from the Associated Federation of Organizations (SS: What a bunch of gibbering idiots), something about coordination of information flow (SS: Horse hocky!), you're wasting your life on this garbage, in two years you'll be just as brain dead as your co-workers (TK ZOMBIE GIBBERISH: Almost done, Miss Perkins?) and you head for the door and one of the brain dead tries to hand you some paper (TK ZOMBIE: Here, this is interesting) and you brush past him and out the door (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE, FAST FOOTSTEPS) and it feels good (SS DEEP BREATH) and you think -

SS: I need wind. Mountains. Honesty.

And then the light shines.

SS: I need Montana.


SS SHOUTS: Mon-tan-a!!!! (TK ECHOES)

And a car pulls up, (CAR PULLS UP) a pink 58 Cadillac, and in the front seat is Jack Kerouac-

TR HIPSTER: Hey baby, like, where is it? And are you there yet?

And the King is at the wheel.

TR ELVIS: Hey mama, you sure look good in that dress, how about you let me buy you some new shoes, baby? And there's Duke -

TR JOHN WAYNE: We're goin' to Montana. Have us a look see.

And Jimmy Stewart -

TR JIMMY: Don't you worry about these fellas, honey, I'll take care of you like you were my own sister.

So you get in and it's fantastic (FAST GUITAR BLUES UNDER, TRAVELLING MUSIC) - the open road, that ribbon of asphalt heading west, sailors on a concrete sea, go, go, go, and you eat at drive-ins and diners -

TR ELVIS: Five hamburgers and four french fries and one order of onion rings. And how about that banana cream pie?

And you sleep at night in tourist cabins (SEMIS PASSING) listening to the big 18-wheelers pass in the night (SEMI HORN PASSING), and finally you get to Montana, to Butte, (BLUES RIFF SLOWS) sitting on the richest hill on earth, a big wide-open town, mining town, union town, good people, (BLUES RIFF ENDS) and you stand and look at the snow-capped mountains-and the open pit -

TR JACK: And that hole in the ground, it's like nothingness and it's beingness. Butte is the center. Like, the center of Buddhism.

TR JOHN WAYNE: It's a monument to man's right to be free. And to mine ore for free.

TR ELVIS: Hey, that's right, chief. Free to leave. Let's move it.

SS: I'm going to stay, you guys. You go on ahead.

TR ELVIS: Are you sure, baby? I love you, mama.

SS: You go ahead. I'm all right.

TR JIMMY: Just remember to be good to yourself, kid. And always talk to strangers.

TR ELVIS: Take care, mama.

And away they go. (CAR PULLS AWAY) And suddenly you're not in Butte anymore. You're at the computer (COMPUTER KEYS) writing a report -

SS: Improving coordination of information flow -

And someone is leaning over your shoulder

TK ZOMBIE: Thought you might find this interesting. . .


Wouldn't this be a good time for a piece of rhubarb pie? Yes, nothing gets the taste of fear and humiliation out of your mouth like rhubarb. Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

But one little thing can revive a guy,
And that is home-made rhubarb pie.
Serve it up, nice and hot.
Maybe things aren't as bad as you thought.


Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

(c) 1999 by Garrison Keillor