Here's some poetry by the Jedman; it should be set to music and sung by someone like Emmylou Harris.

Chadwell says that Jean has a big butt and fat ankles
Chadwell says that Jean eats too many desserts at the Golden Corral
Cheesecake, pie and fudge, fudge, fudge.

But, Jean is beautiful, no matter what Chadwell says.
Chadwell's words can't bring Jean down. Oh no.
Jean is beautiful in each and every way.
So, Chadwell, don't you bring Jean down today.

Chadwell says that Jean drinks too much beer
and hits the bacon and gravy buffet too often.
Chadwell says that Jean has hag hair
and a big mouth. She asks too many questions

But Jean is beautiful no matter what Chadwell says.
Chadwell's words can't bring Jean down. Oh no.
Jean is beautiful in each and every way.
So, Chadwell, don't you bring Jean down today.

I am just guessing that "Jean" is a friend of ours who lives out in Oakland, and that "Chadwell" is a composite character of me and this woman's loser boyfriend, who is also a friend of ours. The Jedman got the name "Chadwell" from his roommate the first year at the dormitory. As Jed said, "Chadwell has a loud stereo. It's not a good stereo, but it's a loud stereo". John Chadwell was a Neanderthal-looking big thick guy with a mullet--he looked something like Barcelona player Carles Puyol. who used to do crazy shit like getting drunk and crawling out on the ledge below the fifth-floor windows. He was kind of a jock; we used to play tackle football on weekend afternoons and Chadwell was a beast, damn near impossible to take down in the open field. He'd just run over you. He used to be pals with Mike the Marine, who was, of course, going into the Marines. Once it rained like hell for like a week and Chadwell and Mike the Marine climbed up on the concrete awning above the dorm's front door and jumped off into the flowerbed beside the entrance. It was like twenty feet high, but the mud in the flowerbed was like six feet thick, so they didn't get hurt. A couple of other idiots then tried it, and the whole thing ended up in the Great Hashinger Mud Fight of 1986. Another time those dopes went down to this pond across Iowa Street from the dorms, which is on university land, and caught a snapping turtle. They got it to bite onto the middle of this eight-foot-long stick and brought it back to the dorm. It was a monster, like two feet long, and it had hold of that stick in its super-strong beak and it was not going to let go, and each one of them was carrying one end of the stick with the damn thing hanging off it. They brought it back and everyone went down and got a look at it. Then somebody said, "Well, what are you going to do with it?", and they didn't know. I imagine a couple of the Chinese students would have known how to turn it into turtle soup, but they just finally took it back to the pond and tossed it back in. Chadwell had a very impressive collection of soft-core porno mags, and he used to practice drawing and painting the chicks; he was an art major, but his tastes in subject matter ran toward what a girlfriend of mine once labeled "heavy-metal bimboes from Mars".