A: Patsy Cline is insane.

B: Yeah – really nuts.

A: I’m serious. Have you ever noticed, with the Patsy Cline songs – I realize she didn’t write them – or at least I don’t think she did – but anyway, the Patsy Cline, it’s always I lost my baby or my baby’s gone or my baby left me and I’m so blue sorta stuff.

B: Depressing…

A: I guess so, but that’s not what I am getting at. Here’s the deal. All of the songs are like that. Song after song. Right? So Patsy Cline begins to sound a bit obsessive, and it’s easy to imagine her singing these songs – song after song after song – about this one guy, this one ‘baby’ that she lost. As each song is sung, with the same how could he do this to me lament, the narrative forms, a narrative that exposes Patsy Cline as, well, a bit wacko, and then she sings I go out walking after midnight searching for yooooou and so it becomes perfectly clear – she’s stalking this guy. Right? Do you see it? And so what song is next – in the narrative anyway?

B: ‘Crazy’?

A: Wow…

B: What?

A: I hadn’t thought of that one – that’s good.

B: Uh, thanks.

A: So yeah, that makes sense – ‘Crazy’ – and then ‘I’m back in baby’s arms’! Oh and this one – ‘I’m walkin’ after midnight’ is in there somewhere – probably before she captures and kills the poor guy. Anyway – how did she get back in baby’s arms?

B: They g—

A: She killed him!

B: What?

A: You heard me.

B: She killed him…

A: Yes! She kidnapped him, and killed him, and dragged him back to her apartment, or ranch or wherever she lives, and she’s standing there with this guy’s dead body propped up in a chair or something, dancing around in her little cowgirl dress, singing her happy little song. Patsy Cline is a sick woman.

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