“Oh! It’s French!! Maurice Foucault!” says a Boomer woman to N. Wilson.
“No shit!” he says burping. He laughs.
She looks at him, confused. Then in fear she laughs.
He thinks he’s got a girlfriend. He grins.
She gets wise to it too. So she smiles devilishly.
“Hey! You wanna go get…a…soda or something?” he asks her, very, very awkwardly.
She makes a rude face. Stares at the floor.
“I mean…it’s not like we’ll have to go home right away. Being adults now and all.” he says.
“Okay.” she says, grimacing.
Six days later he has his heart broken. She’s not very nice after all. And she’s an idiotic bitch.
He vows to never do that again.
Twenty years later he viciously bullies Lacey Banks who’s sitting alone in his office to the point of tears. Yes! He made Lacey Banks cry. It was probably one of the weirdest experiences of her entire life. And that’s saying something.
“That’s not true! She’s been sheltered!” yells the Messiah University counseling center lady who only made things profoundly worse.
“I mean…I used to see her in the hallway and she’d act all tough and cold like she was a better person than me and I just wanted to send her to Hell or cut her up into little pieces.” says Dr. Norm Wilson. “But if she ever tells you that she’s insane! Don’t believe her! I’m a really, really nice guy!!”
“Were you really turned on by her?” asks JP Kennedy of Dr. Norm Wilson.
“Yeah! No shit!” says Dr. Norm Wilson.
“Was I supposed to know that?” asks Lacey.
“I mean…you did!” says Dr. Wilson.
“Not really though.” says Lacey.
He stares awkwardly.
“Say! Maybe this is why nation state history is important.” says Lacey.
“You cannot possibly be implying that we need nation states to sexually communicate as humans without destroying the world?” he says. “I knew you were smart.”
“Are you a psychopath? Are you an evil overlord psychopath? Because yes. Yes, that is what I’m implying. Why are you so obsessed with being better than me?” asks Lacey. “I mean…you’re absurd! Because yes. Maybe you’re not as terrifyingly brilliant as you violently demanded I recognize you as being.”
“But that’s culture!” he says.
“So you assume that geographic lines and distributions are gibberish nonsense?” asks Lacey. “You’re a buffoon? Or you’re afraid you’re a buffoon? Because it’s not intellectually sound.”
He sighs. Closes his eyes.
“No! Actually defend yourself.” says Lacey.
“I worry I can’t.” he says.
“Right. And so now what?” asks Lacey.
“You know…I’m a communist. And I hate you.” he says.
“Ahh! I wondered if that was your real angle.” says Lacey.
He rolls his eyes.
“Well? How does Messiah University pay your salary if there’s communism?” asks Lacey.
“They can!” he says.
“How?” asks Lacey.
“Donations. Governmental support. And…the wealth of the land.” he says.
“How does the wealth of the land find its way into the pockets of the Messiah University teachers?” asks Lacey.
“You just don’t know!!!” violently yells all of cool-kid liberal academia at Lacey.
“Through donations?” asks Boyer.
“No. Through abortions.” says Jonah Wiley.
“You people are losers!!” Dr. Wilson yells at Jonah Wiley.
Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte by Maurice Ravel plays.
After hearing the song in his spirit he climbs under his desk and refuses to get out.
“Are you okay little buddy?” asks Jonah Wiley of Dr. Norm Wilson.
“I’m not coming out. But I’m fine.” he says.
“Well my goodness!” says Helena Bonham Carter.
“Don’t patronize me!!” he pops his head out to yell.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” Lacey yells at him in a whisper.
He laughs at her.
She walks over and slaps his face.
“Go to your room and don’t come out until I say so!!” yells Lacey.
“Wounded.” he says, in Shakespearean melodrama, except he means it sincerely. “I shall not surrender!” he says standing.
Lem punches him in the gut. Then punches him again. And again.
“Are you quite through?!” asks Lacey as Dr. Norm Wilson rolls on the ground.
“No!!” he says rolling about. “I shall not surrender.” he says.
“Then lock him away!” yells Lacey. “To the dungeon!”
Barack Obama nods his head. He laughs. “Kids! Don’t do drugs!” he says both seriously and jokingly.
And at that Dr. Norm Wilson is carried away to the dungeon.
Once he’s securely in the dungeon Lacey visits him.
“I need to understand what you’re mad about?” asks Lacey. “Tell me! Please.”
“I’m not mad.” he says primly.
“Oh! You’re gay?” asks Lacey.
He looks sad. “No. It’s just…” he looks at her, confused.
“What are your objections?” asks Lacey.
“My objections!?? Eww!” he says.
“No. Really. What bothers you? Why won’t you surrender?” she asks.
“Oh. That was just for show.” he says.
“Yeah right. Why won’t you surrender?” asks Lacey.
“I will tell you why!!” says Iran.
“Well…let’s see if he can do his best and tell us safely.” says Lacey.
Iran laughs.
“I’m not mad.” says Norm Wilson forcing a calm face.
“What exactly happens to you if you are mad?” asks Lacey. “Or offended?”
“You fall madly in love with me!” he says. He laughs at her maniacally.
“Huh. What else could happen?” asks Lacey.
“I’m sorry. I refuse to consider the possibility that there is no LOVE…in the world.” he says, triumphantly.
“Goodness! Love. Huh. You’re thinking of communism?” asks Lacey.
He laughs. “What is wrong with you peasants?” he asks.
“Oh! Oh my. What peasant land do I come from?” asks Lacey.
“Well…you don’t wear sexy clothes. Or terribly expensive clothes. So you’re obviously a peasant. And you don’t act sexy or do your hair sexy. Like the other girls you are do. They’re innocent and sweet and yet far more mature and worldly.” he says as if he’s spitting out garbage from his mouth that she violently imposed there on him.
“Well! Where do I come from?” asks Lacey.
He grips the bars of the dungeon. Thinks.
Shostakovich’s “Suite For Jazz Orchestra” plays.
Thinks.
“Umm…the Midwest.” he says.
“Yeah. But you went to UW Madison.” says Lacey. “What exactly makes you think the entire Midwest is poor?”
“It’s not.” he says.
“So…why would I be an idiot peasant?” asks Lacey.
“That’s…weird.” he says.
“Huh. What exactly?” asks Lacey.
“I relied on you to tell me.” he says.
“I did my best.” says Lacey.
“But I adamantly refused to believe you.” he says.
“Yes. But let’s get back to why you love communism.” says Lacey.
“It’s love.” he says.
“How?” asks Lacey.
“Because people aren’t that bad!” he says.
“How are you not that bad?” ask Lacey.
“You’re bad. I’m good.” he says.
“And you’re rich and sophisticated. And I’m poor and annoying. I’m sorry!” she says, lying.
Still behind the dungeon bars he says, “Well no. You don’t have to say that.”
“Goodness. I think I’m falling madly in love with you!” she says. She backs away dramatically, but believably.
“Hey! Lemme ask you something while the lady leaves to protect herself. …Why did you become a professor?” asks George Floyd.
“Because of the beauty!” he says.
“Damn!” says another dead black man.
“What beauty are you talking about?” asks yet another dead black man.
Dr. Norm Wilson merrily romps through the daisies of England’s fertile soil in his head with a song in his mouth and laughter in his heart. He feels embarrassed. He feels like a gay man, or the formerly pejorative faggot. It’s all so prissy and British in his eyes.
“You know. It just has always made sense to me.” he says.
“What?” asks the second dead black man.
“Communism, I guess.” he says.
“My goodness.” says George Floyd.
He sighs.
“What exactly is it you like about communism?” asks the third dead black man.
“Funny you don’t know.” he says, condescendingly.
“My! I don’t. Go on!” says the second dead black man.
“No! You do!!!” yells Dr. Norm Wilson.
“No. Sweetie…I don’t.” says the second dead black man.
“That’s not fair!!” yells Dr. Wilson. He backs into the wall behind him.
“What’s not fair?” asks George Floyd.
“I’m Norm Wilson FLOYD!” he says, possibly faking insanity.
“Ahh. Yes. No. Explain why you like communism.” says the second dead black man.
“Okay. She was…stately. And grand. And I knew instantly that she was one of the real ones. So…I hated her.” admits Dr. Wilson. “I am genuinely concerned about communism. And I’m one of the real ones too.”
“So what’s so great about communism?” asks George Floyd.
Keen to Cross the Pond 