Interesting People on the Fringe: This Week - Rathead!

Rathead’s up in the morning
Just to fuck the buffalo!
He’s all confused,
And he don’t know where to go.
He just runs down through the grass
And grabs them in the ass,
But Rathead runs real slow
And them buffalo run real fast!

‘Cause Ratheeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaad
Is a buffalo fucker!
He’s just out to fuck them buffalo!
He fucks ‘em high
And fucks ‘em low
And fucks ‘em in the snow
‘Cause Rathead’s up in the morning
Just to fuck the buffalo!

One day ol’ Rathead’s out
Runnin’ through the sticks.
He jumps upon a buffalo’s back
And shows ‘im a few tricks.
But he turned a little pale
When he found out it was a male,
And from now on Rathead
Just sucks on buffalo dick!

‘Cause Ratheeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaad
Is a buffalo fucker!
He’s just out to fuck them buffalo!
He fucks ‘em high
And fucks ‘em low
And fucks ‘em in the snow
‘Cause Rathead’s up in the morning
Just to fuck the buffalo!

"Rathead" was the moniker given to my high school friend, Jeffrey Petersen, by none other that Mark Rydl, another character straight out of a bad high school comedy and perhaps a current guest of the American penal system. The name stemmed from the fact that Jeff’s hairstyle was accentuated by a bad case of pillow head, making look like a rat’s nest, hence the name, Rathead. The buffalo fucking part was just a non sequitur ditty I came up with after James Paige called Jeff a "buffalo fucker" for no particular reason one day in 7^th period study hall in 1985. It is in the tempo of a Johnny Cash- style train song, to which I envision a June Carter -type harmony on the refrain.

Rathead was just the latest in a series of nicknames given to Jeff, who was also known as Buttiroo, then just Roo, back in 1^st or 2^nd grade. There actually was another song that went along with this nickname, so I guess I’ll try to recite that as well. Jeff came up with this tune himself, to the tune of the “Jingle Bells“ opening:

Buttiroo, Buttiroo!
Butti works on batteries!
Buttiroo, Buttiroo!
Butti has a birthday!

Weird and stupid? Yes! But for some reason the nickname stuck. I remember one time in fourth grade actually calling up Jeff’s place and, when his mother answered, asking for Roo. Strangely enough, she gave him the phone without once asking, “Who???”

Jeff was kind of what we folks on the farm called a runt while growing up, i.e. he was skinny and small. Like the piglet that got hind teat. I remember once when Mitchell Coglon and I stayed over at his place and that evening, his mom gave Jeff and his sister, Sharon, each a spoonful of “tonic”, whatever the hell that was, before bedtime. Elixir, perhaps? Or maybe it was something to keep their urges down during puberty. Anyway, it reminded me of something sold in the 19^th century out of a medicine wagon by some dude in a top hat. “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Come try Dr. Dicksmack’s wonderful miracle elixir! Cures whatever ails ya! Got consumption? Gout? Eczema? Runt kids? Horny teenagers? Well, step right up and for the low, low price of 1 silver dollar, you and your family can be on the road to recovery and a joyful, moral life everlasting!”

I digress. But this is the second essay I have written about the man, Jeffrey Petersen. The first was for advanced comp class in high school and was entitled, “Jeff Petersen – Insane Genius”. He was indeed a fascinating character, sort of like a mad scientist, a crazy engineer. He was a hobbyist, and could easily have written “Boy’s Life” magazine, which he often called “Lifebuoy” magazine, as his entire world at home was created by him, a compilation of creative, educational and useful projects. Jeff was the architect of his own world.

For example, his experiments with fire, which would have alarmed most parents, were actually encouraged. His grandfather even provided a smokestack for what Jeff called his “chimney worker”, which was basically a brick fireplace he constructed with the shiny aluminum tube as smokestack. Except once we built a fire in it which burnt so hot that flames were shooting out of the chimney, coming to a point about 2 yards above the ten foot chimney, sort of like a big blowtorch. That was probably the only time his parents showed any kind of concern, when his mom came out and asked if everything was under control, just as the chimney collapsed, melting at the welds.

Jeff built a tree house which was near the chimney worker, only not really in a tree but up on stilts. To this he connected a telephone system which served their farm buildings, the tree house, and, of course, the house, where the switchboard was located in his room. Jeff was an enthusiast 10 years before the advent of the ultimate Enthusiast, E.J. Ra. Model rocketry, weather forecasting, ornithology, geology, steam engines, electronics, computer programming, go-carting, three-wheeling – Rathead was a man of many interests. He had a cool model railroading layout in his basement, which actually became the subject of a feature article in the local paper. I suppose it didn’t hurt that his grandma wrote for the paper, but it was a pretty neat set-up, complete with mountain, tunnel, and a small village, which he wanted to name “Denver” but somehow misspelled “Denvon”. That was kind of similar to his pronunciation of the word iron as “eye-ron”. Jeff once had a spastic attack of destructive weirdness, sending a Santa Fe Tyco engine hurtling down the track and slamming against the wall when the thing didn’t work. He then started to dance a jig, laughing hysterically and rubbing his hands together in an evil, Dr. Frankenstein manner.

I carry Rathead’s influence with me every day, in that it was with him that I developed my interest in amateur astronomy. Another of his enthusiast deals, he had a 6” Criterion Newtonian reflector, and we spent many a damn cold winter night at the eyepiece, checking out such sights as lunar craters, the Great Nebula in Orion, and the lackluster return of Halley’s comet in 1986. This was before the advent of computerized astronomy, and he never did build a wished-for observatory, so we would be inside in this basement laboratory calculating right ascensions and declinations, checking weather forecasts and seeing conditions and warming up in preparation for fifteen degrees below zero and a star-filled sky. Probably the coolest thing we saw while out observing had nothing to do with a telescope, but was a bright meteor so close that we heard a sonic boom associated with it as it entered the atmosphere. We were completely awestruck by the bright flash and thunder of the experience. That hooked me on the skywatching hobby.

The last time I saw Jeff was when Scott Peterson, a buddy of mine from college, and I happened to drop in on him at his folk’s farm back in the spring of 1989. We showed up at around four in the afternoon, and had coffee with Jeff’s mom and dad, as Jeff had to be wakened from a nap in his basement lair. As he arrived at the table, his bearded visage startled me, but his hair was as tousled as a rat’s nest: Rathead, indeed!

Rathead, wherever you are…Keep looking up!