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Remembering Bill StraussFebruary 15, 2008 Bill Strauss, co-founder of the Capitol Steps, died on December 18, 2007. I didn't hear about it till three days into the new year because Capitol Steps CDs are among my primary news sources and the 2007 one hasn't come out yet. The Capitol Steps will continue, and maybe someone else will carry on the "Lirty Dies" monologues that Bill Strauss started, but knowing that there's one less smart, brilliantly funny guy on the planet makes me very sad. Apart from one distant sighting at the Tabernacle in August 2006, my visual impression of Bill Strauss comes entirely from his voice: earnest, with impish undercurrents. What I see when I listen to "Lirty Dies" looks sort of like Dennis the Menace grown up. When the Capitol Steps started, I was still living in Washington, but though I worked near Eastern Market -- a brisk walk from the Capitol -- and lived on the far fringes of "the Hill," at 12th and Maryland, N.E. (next door to the Righteous Branch Commandment Church of God), we didn't move in the same circles. Infrequently I'd find myself on a westbound Blue Line train at rush hour; at Capitol South the doors would slide open and in would pile a horde of Hill staffers around my age but much better dressed. (In my world women rarely wore dresses or makeup, and the men wouldn't be caught dead in white collars and ties.) At first their conversations were puzzling: "The member said . . . "; "We met with the member . . ."? "Member" as in "certain portion of the male anatomy"? Were they talking about wily incubi and succubi who slip through windows and cause men to do things they can't admit in the morning? Before I got to Dupont Circle I'd caught on -- member of Congress, dummy -- and by the time I got to the top of the Q Street escalator I'd decided that maybe I was right the first time. I gave up the daily newspaper habit when the Washington Star stopped publishing circa 1983, which may explain why I didn't hear about the Capitol Steps until 2003. One Sunday morning I was listening to Rich Warren's Midnight Special syndicated public radio show when belting out of my boombox was -- could it be? -- "Tomorrow," from Annie. It was, but not quite:
I couldn't believe my ears. Someone was making jokes about 9/11 on the radio?? At the end of the set, Rich Warren identified the performer -- the Capitol Steps -- and the CD, When Bush Comes to Shove. Having been busted on the Capitol steps during the May Day demonstrations of 1971, I felt an immediate affinity. Within minutes I'd found their website and ordered myself a copy. The whole thing was brilliant. "Shoe Bomb"? "Enron-ron"? Tom Ridge Bedtime Stories 1, 2, and 3? My sides were split so bad I could have used some Vetrap (unfortunately it was at the barn), and then came the climax: my first Bill Strauss "Lirty Dies" monologue. Ever since, when each yearly CD comes out I order both it and one from the backlist. I'm back to Unzippin' My Doo-dah (songs of 1998) -- guess what that's about? Everyone else in the country may be sick to death of the Clinton scandals, but not me. Not only do I not read a daily newspaper, I don't own a TV. I learned a bit from the radio, and more from listening to people talk. (On Martha's Vineyard, the Black Dog dress assumed greater importance than it probably had in the nation at large.) There's a lot to be said for getting your national news from Capitol Steps CDs. It's a lot funnier, for one thing, and the scary stuff is a lot less scary because by the time the CD comes out you know we're going to survive because hey, here we are. All the CDs I've got so far end with "Lirty Dies," in which Bill Strauss reviews the highlights of the previous year, whipping his flurds as he goes. How to describe it? Here's what the Capitol Steps say: "We're not quite sure what we're saying; you're not quite sure what you're hearing." After 30 seconds you think you're understanding it almost as well as "straight talk," and before long you're railing at bastardly dastards whose deevil wooings are threatening the American lay of wife. Not only are the "Lirty Dies" monologues hilarious, they're also contagious. Muck in a storing beeting? Start whipping the flurds of the next spompous peaker. It's fore munny nan thitting. Gonna miss you, Bill. For better or worse, though, those topical CDs don't date very fast, and when they do, history is good for you, right? It's never too late to brush up on current events. The Capitol Steps website has free samples, but be warned: It's like Tom Lehrer's Old Dope Peddler, who "gives the kids free samples / because he knows full well / that today's young innocent faces / will be tomorrow's clientele." An excellent place to start is with Sixteen Scandals, which stells the tory of the first 20 years and includes a musical revue on CD. Fork over your credit card number and indulge.
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