(Heaven)  Aging  pop crooner Pat Boone filed suit here in federal court yesterday against middle-aged pop crooner Michael Bolton, alleging that Bolton stole from Boone the idea of stealing music from Black people.  A defiant Boone, wearing his trademark White Cardigan sweater and White Smugness, stood on the courthouse steps waving a pristine 45 rpm record containing his rendition of  Little Richard's "Tutti Frutti." Boone was a portrait of sweaty desperation as he attempted to woo the hostile yet discerning crowd.   "Here is the proof,"  he implored  "I recorded this rockin' little number in 1957, back when Bolton was just a gleam in some hooker's eye."  The decrepit, cretinous Boone, whose early recordings practically defined the genre of blue-haired soul continued:  "My entire career has been based on exploiting the racial schism which plagues this country. It's either that or I will have to record more goddamn religious music, for chrissakes." 

Boone's attempt to steal music from white rockers on "In a Metal Mood" proved ludicrous and unsuccessful, so he has recently returned to his Afro-Plagiarism roots. "Unlike Bolton, I didn't just take from Black music----I also gave.  Do you realize how much better my version of 'Long Tall Sally' was than the original?  With my lifeless, pureed baritone replacing Little Richard's howl, I was able to recast the song into a form suitable for civilized folk."

After the jeering crowd converted his 45 rpm prop into a Frisbee, the unrepentant Boone pulled another object from his gleaming, fluoride-white sweater. "And another thing about Bolton," he bellowed, his eyes bulging and facial muscles twitching uncontrollably, "He doesn't have any of THESE!"  And with that rhetorical flourish, he displayed to the incredulous crowd a bronzed set of micro-cajones. The diminutive balls, barely discernible to the naked eye, seemed to transfix Boone for a moment, but presently he recovered his discomposure:  "It takes more than blatant plagiarism and tight slacks to successfully pilfer someone's cultural heritage.  If that  was all it took then Elvis, rather than yours truly, would be the world's greatest rock-n-roll singer. You need street credibility, you need perceived virility, you need a incoherent sneer, but most of all, you need a set of these little bronze love buds. Without them, I'm just another senile, buttless,  pasty-faced shill for the Mussolini wing of the Republican party."

As the assembled mob, largely comprised of hep cats and rockers, grew more restive, Boone began to weep openly.  (Apparently, the only kind of weeping worth doing in the media age). They obtained another prized Boone collectible, a basketball-sized replica of  his prostate, began an impromptu game of five on five, with Boone's esophagus serving as a hoop.

Boone's suit seeks exclusive right to record, homogenize, castrate and profit from all African-American music up to an including disco.  Bolton, undergoing a gender acquisition operation in Switzerland, was unavailable for comment. 

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