Clip Job: an excerpt every day from the Voice archives.
July 1, 1959, Vol. IV, No. 36
By Bill Manville
Well, July is here at last, and all the psychoanalysts have folded couches and lamed out of town. They go off to a secret place in Vermont, where they hold hidden, summer-long cha-cha orgies to make up for their sedentary winter lives; that’s their idea of fun. (Remember how they wouldn’t tell you when you asked? Now you know why.)
It really is heaven for them. Full Professors and Savants from New York Psychoanalytic Society snob the nouveau-riche Midwest analysts whose money comes from Chicago beef and St. Louis beer. And everybody is ahead of the Hollywood analysts in the pecking order. Princes of the (Vienna) Blood graciously come over to lead seminars in How to Say Nothing in a German Accent. They tell the native analysts heart-warming anecdotes about how Freud personally told them (and not that liar and psychotic who came over last week; he got it second-hand from Jones) that America was all a big mistake.
Nobody below the rank of $25 Ph.D. ($25 per hour Doctor) is admitted into the sacred groves, and lay analysts are shot on sight, the scabs.
So while the analysts are away, the Cats will play. We all have a few extra dollars in our pockets now, and the duty (noblesse oblige!) to act out some material for them to gnaw on next winter. So let’s go:
First, we’re going to hold a fundraising party to Close Washington Square to Children. Nobody who is too young to use adverbs will be allowed in. And that goes for Guitar Players, too.
Next, we’ll open a free employment agency for summer replacements. If Cathy, Jack, Simone, or any other member of SS makes it up to Provincetown for the summer, we’ll get someone to take his place at the bar in the Remo, free of charge.
Let’s buy New Jersey and close it.
…We’ll move on Lou’ idea of opening a Village chapter of Ex-Husbands Anonymous–a society of people for whom one marriage is too much, and 10 marriages not enough. If a member feels the uncontrollable desire to get married, all he has to do is call the clubhouse, and all the other members will bring girls over to his house and hold parties there, night and day, until the urge passes.
[Each weekday morning, we post an excerpt from another issue of the Voice, going in order from our oldest archives. Visit our Clip Job archive page to see excerpts back to 1956.]
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on July 18, 2008