The Widdershins

Posts Tagged ‘plays by madamab

Merry Christmas Widdershins! Haven’t done one of these in a while – I hope you enjoy it.

THE SCENE: Christmas Morning at the McConnell mansion in Kentucky. MITCH MCCONNELL, the Republican Senate Majority Leader, is lounging in his four-poster bed, dressed in Trump gold pajamas (100% polyester!) with the Trump logo on his chest. His wife, ELAINE CHAO, is lounging next to him. Her pajamas match, of course.

MCCONNELL (stretching comfortably): What a great night’s sleep! (to ELAINE) You know, I was a bit worried I might get three, um, “visitors” overnight. Well, Merry Christmas to us!

There’s a knock at the bedroom door.

MCCONNELL: Come in, honey!

SENATE AIDE #1 enters. She is young, blonde and Fox News friendly.

MCCONNELL (startled): Oh! I thought you were one of my daughters. Uh, how’s it going, uh…Maggie?

(Her name is Mary.)

MARY (deferentially): It’s Mary, sir.

(ELAINE, frustrated, lightly smacks MCCONNELL on the arm.)

MCCONNELL: Ahem, yes, of course, Mary. How can I help you? And a Merry Christmas to you, my dear.

MARY: Merry Christmas, sir. Sir, I wanted to let you know that I’ve just received word. The Washington Post has another scoop. It’s…it’s bad, sir.

ELAINE: Oh no. What has that orange idiot done now?

(MARY is shocked, then giggles a bit))

MCCONNELL (repressively): ELAINE!

ELAINE (repentant): Sorry, darlin’. I forgot we weren’t alone. (to Mary) Go ahead, dear.

MARY: Well, um, it looks like he made fun of a child. See right here? He said that at 7 years old, it’s “marginal” to believe in Santa Claus.

ELAINE (muttering to herself): Jesus f*cking Christ.

MCCONNELL: Elaine! (to Mary) Thanks for telling us, uh, Marjorie. Now scoot along. Go have some eggnog or something.

MARY (rolling her eyes a bit): Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

(Mary exits, closing the door)

ELAINE (sitting up in bed): For heaven’s sake, Mitch. That f*cking moron can’t even talk to a child properly! Why don’t you do something already? I’m almost embarrassed to be a Republican these days.

MCCONNELL: (placatingly) Now, Elaine, I know it’s hard to take sometimes.

(He gets out of bed, pacing…the audience can see his Trump slippers)

MCCONNELL: But look – LOOK at all the power we have! And money…soooooo much money. That tax cut was very, very good to us. So what if the guy tweets every once in a while. We are still in great shape. It’s never been a better time to be a Republican!

(There’s another knock at the door.)

MCCONNELL: Come in, honey!

(SENATE AIDE #2 enters. She is interchangeable with Mary, but is wearing a different color mini-skirt.)

MCCONNELL: Darn it, when will Porter get here? (to AIDE #2) Uh, excuse me, sweetheart. Merry Christmas! What can we do for you?

SENATE AIDE #2:  Sir, the AFP is reporting that Erdogan has invited President Trump to Turkey. It sure looks like he and the President are doing some kind of deal together, especially since Turkey is moving into Syria already. There’s also a lot of negative press about the General Mattis thing. I’ve checked the latest Presidential approval ratings, and they are, um, not good. 39%!

(ELAINE screams into a pillow) 

MCCONNELL: ELAINE! (to SENATE AIDE #2) Uh, thanks, my dear. There’s some mulled wine in the kitchen, please help yourself!

SENATE AIDE #2 (puzzled by the lack of reaction): Uh, yes sir. Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas!

(SENATE AIDE #2 exits, closing the door.)

ELAINE (picking up where they left off, crossing to MCCONNELL): “It’s a great time to be a Republican?” Are you serious? All those Never Trumpers are having a field day! That Jonah Goldberg, ooh, I could smack him. Even the MAGA morons are starting to wake up. And the liberals, well – clearly they feel vindicated. (sarcastically) You DID notice the 2018 election, didn’t you? Did you see how many seats the Democrats gained in the House? That Pelosi woman —

MCCONNELL (interrupting superstitiously): She Who Must Not Be Named?

(ELAINE and MCCONNELL spit three times through their fingers)

ELAINE (continuing): ANYWAY, Ms. P is going to come after you with everything she’s got. That Elijah Cummings has already sent over 50 letters about various new investigations he’s planning on opening. You think Trump can survive all of this? Why are you still sticking by him?

(Another knock at the door.)

MCCONNELL and ELAINE (exasperated): Come in!

(SENATE AIDE #3 enters. Yes, she is interchangeable with Mary and #2, wearing yet another color mini-skirt.)

ELAINE (frazzled): What is it, Monica? Oh, Merry Christmas, dear.

MONICA: Merry Christmas, ma’am, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you, but it looks like another child has died in U.S. custody. (pointedly) That makes two.

MCCONNELL (showing the first signs of distress): Oh my goodness. That’s very bad indeed. Uh – what happened, do we know? (eagerly) Can we blame the Democrats?

MONICA (dubiously): Well sir, it’s not clear yet. If there’s a particular border patrol agent who’s responsible, I suppose we could find out how he voted in 2018?

MCCONNELL (wagging his finger): And 2016! If he voted for Hillary, we’re home free. (more cheerfully) Thanks, darlin’! Go stand under the mistletoe in the great room, maybe you’ll get lucky! (smacks her on the ass)

MONICA (shocked, rubbing her ass): Uh, thank you? (exits quickly, closing the door)

(ELAINE glares at MCCONNELL, shaking her head.)

MCCONNELL (dismissively): Oh whatever, she loved it. Now, where were we?

ELAINE (sighing): Mitch, honey. (taking his hand) Let’s not fight. Just please tell me, for once and for all, what is going on? I am ready to quit tomorrow. Just say the word. This is the worst job I’ve ever had! I don’t even think Trump knows my name. He keeps calling me “my Chinese friend.” “Where’s my Chinese friend?” he asks me. I’m from Taiwan, for heaven’s sake!

MCCONNELL (coming to a decision): Elaine, I’m gonna come clean. The Russians gave me a lot of money to back that orangutan. I’m just not going to go against them, okay? That Putin is no joke. He kills people! Besides which, we can keep the Democrats in check with our increased majority in the Senate. They’ll never get the votes to impeach him. We can stay on the Trump train and finally privatize Social Security and Medicare. Imagine, all the money pouring in! And, he’ll get re-elected in 2020. Our Russian friends will take care of that!

(ELAINE shakes her head in disbelief.)

(MCCONNELL’S phone dings. He reads it, then throws it across the room.)

MCCONNELL: No, no, no!

ELAINE (concerned): What is it now?

MCCONNELL: MUELLER!

(ELAINE and MCONNELL spit through their fingers again)

MCCONNELL (pacing): Hannity tells me that Mr. M has got me – ME! on his Christmas list. He’s going to  find out about my special friendship with Russia! (realization slowly dawning) Oh my Lord. Who’s going to protect me? Trump will throw me under the bus faster than you can say “Michael Cohen!” He’s never liked me, never! And Pence, he’s useless. He’s going to get indicted before summer comes.

ELAINE (taking him by the shoulders): Mitch, look at me. (he looks up, in deep distress) You cannot go to jail. You hear me? Daddy would be furious! (commandingly) You know what you have to do.

(ELAINE hands him her phone. MCCONNELL slowly takes it and dials.)

MCCONNELL: Hello? Special Counsel’s office? Yes, Merry Christmas to you too (ELAINE puts her hand on his shoulder). This is Majority Leader McConnell. I’d like to speak to the Special Counsel, please…

(LIGHTS OUT.)

THE END

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Our Fearless Leaders…

THE SCENE: A conference room at the DNC’s Washington headquarters. It’s clear that a long meeting is in progress, from the various soda cans and coffee mugs on the table, scribbles and diagrams on the whiteboard, and the generally exhausted and disheveled air of the 6 participants. At the head of the table is TOM PEREZ, the newly-elected head of the Democratic National Committee. Sitting to his right is KEITH ELLISON, his second-in-command. There are four other people around the table: BERNIE SANDERS, loser of the Democratic Primary by 4 million votes; BILL MAHER, mansplainer extraordinaire; CHUCK SCHUMER, head of the Senate Democrats; and The One, former President BARACK OBAMA. There are, of course, no women present. 

As the curtain rises, we see PEREZ and ELLISON in earnest and quiet discussion. SANDERS’ head is down and his eyes are closed; gentle snores issue from his nose. SCHUMER is gazing raptly into OBAMA’s eyes, while MAHER is on the phone, pacing, at the other end of the table. PEREZ and ELLISON decide to bring the group back in.

PEREZ: Guys, hey! (The men in the room reluctantly begin to shift into “pay attention” mode.) I know it’s been a long day so far. But I think we’ve made real progress. Let’s take a look at the whiteboard one more time. Keith, can you give Bernie a nudge?

ELLISON (checking his watch): Yeah, I guess it’s still light outside. (goes over and gently shakes SANDERS, who unelegantly snorts awake.)

SANDERS: Oh! Sorry about that. I must have napped for a minute there.

OBAMA (muttering) More like the past 90 minutes, man. (SCHUMER snickers.)

MAHER (on the phone): Crap. I’ve gotta go, Ann. Of course I’ll have you on my show again. I don’t care how conservative you are; you’re my kind of woman. (Hangs up) Sorry about that. It’s hard for me to say no to a hot blonde, even if she talks a lot of sh*t sometimes. Am I right?

(SANDERS is the only one who laughs.)

PEREZ (into the awkward silence): Uh. Right! So, to recap: we want to rebuild the Democratic Party to prepare for 2018 and beyond. We can’t just focus on the Presidency every four years. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place!

OBAMA: Hey!

SCHUMER (smoothing it over): Sorry, Mr. President, but you have to agree that we should have spent more money and time building up Congress, the governorships and state legislatures. Now look what’s happened! The lunatics are running the asylum, and we don’t even have the option to impeach the schmuck squatting in the Oval Office to get his d*mn kids and that Breitbart wacko out of there. I feel like I’m living in Bizarro World!

SANDERS (standing up): I couldn’t agree more, Chuck. If it weren’t for that d*mn woman losing the election, we would be in the catbird seat right now. Thankfully you guys took over from that idiot Schultz, so we can take the Party back from the millionaires and billionaires! (sits down, self-satisfied)

(OBAMA rolls his eyes.)

MAHER (snarkily): Catbird seat?! How old ARE you?! (goes back to his phone and stops paying attention)

SCHUMER (politely): Uh, Bernie, that wasn’t actually what I said. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. And I think it would be just terrific if you would stop obsessing about the primaries now. You know that 4 million more Democrats voted for Hillary. There was no rigging, except what the Russians did for Trump!

OBAMA: That’s right, Chuck. I knew those Russians were up to no good! But it shouldn’t have mattered. They should have come out for her the way they came out for me. (shaking his head) D*mn! I can’t believe my inspirational speeches didn’t work.

PEREZ (muttering): You mean those condescending lectures? Yeah, shocking.

ELLISON: (standing up and going to a whiteboard that turns around) Guys, guys! Come on now. We’re all on the same side, trying to do the same thing. Right? Let’s focus on beating the Republicans in 2018! Take a look at my strategy. I think we can all agree it’s a winner!

(ELLISON dramatically turns the whiteboard around. There is a picture of two people: one woman and one man. The man has unexpectedly sprouted a cartoon p*nis, and the woman has grown very large cartoon breasts.)

MAHER (grinning): Hey, Keith baby. I improved on it a bit.

PEREZ: Oh my God. (puts head in hands)

ELLISON (furiously erasing the offending bits): Bill, what are you even doing here? You’re not a politician. I don’t even know if you’re a Democrat!

MAHER: (standing up) Yeah? Well I figured you’ve got Bernie here, and he’s no Democrat. So what the f*ck, why shouldn’t I weigh in? After all, I know why you liberals always lose – it’s because you focus on the wrong things, like political correctness, instead of appealing to normal people like me.

SANDERS: YEAH!

OBAMA (finally a bit exercised): Oh – you mean we should cater to arrogant white guys who think they’re all that? I was President of the United States, you jackass. Have a little respect!

THE MEN GO SILENT, CHASTENED.

MAHER: Mr. President, I apologize. I got a bit carried away. It’s been a long day. (smarmily) Keith, why don’t we get back to your whiteboard. I promise I won’t touch it again.

ELLISON (not at all mollified, but willing to play along): All right. I cleaned up Bill’s mess, and here we are. These, gentlemen, are our new targeted Democratic voters.

First, we have Brenda. Brenda is an affluent white woman in the suburbs, who usually votes Republican. Our message? We feel your pain. You don’t want to think about the environment, or foreign policy, or how your vote affects people less fortunate than yourself. You just want lower taxes and an easy life for you and your family. And Brenda, you deserve it!

SANDERS (interrupting): Uh, Keith, I’m sure that’s not the message you want to send to Brenda. Don’t you want to talk to her about millionaires and billionaires taking over the country?

OBAMA: (interrupting): Nah, she’s a woman. Talk to her about taking care of her children!

SCHUMER (interrupting): What about abortion? Why can’t we talk to her about that? That’s the main issue for all women.

MAHER (interrupting): Women care about only one thing – a big schlong and a nice house. Why do you think I get so much action? (pointing) Hung like a horse, my friends.

(The meeting dissolves into chaos and yelling.)

PEREZ (commandingly): STOP! (The chaos calms.) Team, this is a mess. I forget, why are we targeting affluent white women again? And the man, isn’t he white too?

ELLISON (sheepishly): Uh, yes, Tom, yes he is. But remember, white people swung the election to that creep. We’ve got to get them to vote for us so we don’t lose again in 2018!

SANDERS: Yeah!

ELLISON (gaining confidence): I mean, look over here at the map of the United States. Come on, everyone, gather round the other whiteboard!

(Everyone gets up and dutifully looks at the whiteboard.)

SANDERS: Wow, is that Vermont? Huh. I thought it was bigger.

OBAMA (sarcastically): We know, Bernie.

ELLISON (clearing his throat): Ahem! Right. So look where the Democrats have all their support…in the East, West and some areas of the South. There’s very little in the middle of the country. That’s where we have to focus our efforts!

(The group murmurs in agreement, except PEREZ, who is scratching his head.)

PEREZ: So, uh…not to be a party pooper here, but…what about our base? African-Americans, Latinos, Asians, etc.? Shouldn’t we focus on turning them out rather than trying to convert people who never vote Democratic? And what about making sure people can vote in 2018? I heard that voter participation dropped 2-3 percentage points because of all those restrictive voting laws in those middle of the country states. If that hadn’t happened, plus all the Russian hacking and the Comey letter, Hillary would have won in a landslide!

SANDERS (getting red in the face): Oh please. She’s a loser! You should all listen to me. I would have won! It would have been YUGE!

ELLISON: I agree with Bernie. She only won by 3 million votes, and that’s mostly because of California. Who cares? It’s the middle of the country that counts.

SCHUMER: Wait a minute. What about New York? The greatest state in the nation!

(The room starts to get contentious again.)

OBAMA: Hey, hey, everyone. Look, it’s clear that we have some differences of opinion, but I’m confident we can work it all out. The notion that somehow Republicans could win in 2018 is patently absurd. Let’s all reconvene tomorrow, when we’ve gotten a good night’s sleep, and look at everything with fresh eyes. Okay?

(The men mutter and shake hands reluctantly as OBAMA ushers them out. PEREZ lingers behind and takes out his phone.)

PEREZ (quietly, making sure no one is around): Hello, Hillary? It’s me, Tom. (pauses) It was rough today. We really need you back. These guys have no clue! Obama does nothing but talk about himself. Maher makes dirty jokes and snarks. Bernie just yells “millionaires and billionaires” and says you’re a loser, then falls asleep.

(A hearty laugh issues from the phone.)

PEREZ: (chuckling) Yeah, it’s pretty ridiculous. Meanwhile, Chuck is too afraid of making enemies to stand up to the others, even though he knows they’re on the wrong track. And Ellison backs whatever Bernie says. It’s a disaster!

(PEREZ pauses for a long moment as CLINTON talks.)

PEREZ: Really? You think it’s time you came out of the woods? Tell me more…

The lights dim and fade out as PEREZ listens to CLINTON.

THE END…?

Up, Up and Away

Up, Up and Away

Good Monday to you Widdershins!

Our Madamab is swamped by work!  I think I saw a finger wiggling out from a pile of graphs, charts, handouts and the rest.  And I believe I saw a snorkel stick up out of the pile just so she could breathe!

Dear chat is sitting at home itching and scratching terribly from her case of hives

Good guy Prolix has had to retire for a day or two to rest his fingers because he has been doing the heavy lifting around here lately.

And your faithful servant here is trying to cope with the not-so-good news of the severe illness of a good friend the he went to college with!  We’re talking long times here.

So, with that in mind I went rummaging through the posts and found this hilarious one act play by our  MB and I dusted it off for today.  Do you remember all the coverage of the “balloon boy” when that goofy event occurred?  Remember all of the talking heads pontificating over “how did he do it?”, “where were the parents?”, “Is this a big hoax?”.  Now…take those same talking heads and exchange balloon boy for Hillary Clinton and email server.  It’s the same thing.  The talking heads are grasping at every little “leaked” item they can over this.  Color me surprised, but Friday I watched Bill Maher and even he says he doesn’t get what all the hubbub is about.  So, read the play and make the substitutions of Hillary and server.  You’ll find the similarities amazing.

 

This is a wide open post for any way you wish to discuss things.

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THE SCENE: A swank TV studio, with all the zoomy, whizzy lights, giant flashing screens, deep-pile royal blue carpeting, poreless, lacquered newsbots, and hysterical black-clad assistants one could ever desire. We are in the back of the studio, in the glass-enclosed center of all the action. EDITORS 1, 2, 3 and 4 are all sitting in their leather chairs, directing the action by talking to each other, pointing at their MacBooks, and shouting into their wireless headsets. They are all in their 20’s and have just been promoted after their more experienced bosses “aged out of the business.”

EDITOR 1 (swigging a Red Bull): What’s new on Twitter? We’ve gotta have something for the next segment.

EDITOR 2 (nervously): Let’s see…Demi and Ashton just tweeted…

EDITOR 3 (yawning): Oh please. They tweet when they pee!

EDITOR 4 (pushing in excitedly): Guys, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard just got bombed! A bunch of people died and that DinnerJacket guy is blaming us and the Brits! This could be the start of a huge international incident!

(A brief silence, then:)

EDITORS 1-3 (bursting into laughter): HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

EDITOR 3 (wiping tears from her eyes): Oh, that was a good one! Like anyone cares about that crap these days.

(EDITOR 4 subsides into a humiliated silence.)

EDITOR 2 (eagerly): What about Sarah Palin? Sometimes we can just say her name and people think it’s news!

EDITOR 1 (dismissively): Nahhhh, we tried that two days ago. It bombed.

EDITOR 2 (peevishly): FINE. Uh, uh…Oooooh! (points at his MacBook) Check this out!

(All the EDITORS gather around the screen.)

EDITOR 3 (finally interested): Holy shit! A kid jumped in a balloon in a back yard and it got loose?

EDITOR 2 (proud): Huh? Huh? Is this good or what?

EDITOR 1 (shouting into his headset): Listen up, people! We’ve got something. Get ready to roll in five!

EDITOR 4: This story is unbelievable! Wow, it’s…hmmm.

EDITOR 3 (dismissively): What is it NOW?

EDITOR 4: Well, just shooting it out there, but…what if the kid was never in the balloon to begin with? Or what if he was, but he’s not now? Or what if these parents are making the whole thing up?

EDITOR 1 (after a brief pause): What are you, 25?

EDITOR 4 (nervously): Uh…26.

EDITOR 1 (smugly): I figured. God, you old people just don’t understand the business any more! (gets up and starts pacing) The story’s a win-win. If it’s a hoax, we do a story about the hoax and we milk that for a week. If it’s true, boo-hoo, the kid’s dead – we milk that for a week. If the kid arrives in the balloon safely, we milk his heroic and incredible escape for a week. (suddenly shouting) DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!

(EDITOR 4 looks cowed and ashamed. EDITORS 2 and 3 look happy and superior.)

EDITOR 1 (with chilling finality): You’re fired. (sitting down, shouting into his headset) Hey! You in the black!

(ALL the assistants whirl around at the same time, with hopeful smiles on their faces.)

EDITOR 1 (annoyed): NOT YOU! The guy with the cool hair and soulpatch. Get up here, man.

(The New Guy pumps the air with his fist, then starts making his way to the glass booth as EDITOR #4 exits ignominiously. Suddenly, EDITOR #4 stops his exit, and stands in the middle of the newsroom. He exudes a quiet and desperate dignity which is compelling enough to cause a pause in all the furious activity.)

EDITOR 4: You are all a disgrace to journalism. Walter Cronkite and Edward R. Murrow are ROLLING IN THEIR GRAVES!

(He swoops out dramatically. With a shrug, the buzzing and rushing resume.)

EDITOR 3 (yawning again): What the hell was he talking about?

THE NEW GUY: Should I Google ’em?

EDITOR 2 (completely uninterested): Whatever. (looks at his MacBook, brightens) Oooh, video!

EDITOR 1 (excitedly): Send it through!

EDITOR 3 (happily):  News for a week no matter what happens. We are AWESOME!

(All the EDITORS high-five as:)

(LIGHTS OUT.)

[THE SCENE: The set of “The Dating Game,” of course! Or is it? As the host paces around the stage, barking orders and repeatedly puffing powder on his liver-spotted face, you realize that this is not your parents’ show. First of all, the tall, overbearing emcee is clearly Fox News’ own BILL O’REILLY. Second, the contestants seated in the chairs behind the wall are…well, not the most attractive bunch you’ve ever seen. One, RICK SANTORUM, wears a sweater vest and a sheepish expression; another, CHRIS CHRISTIE, bears a striking resemblance to an angry water buffalo; and the third, JEB BUSH, looks like a mixture between a used-car salesman and a chimpanzee. Finally, there is a fourth chair, which is mysteriously empty.]

O’REILLY [sotto voce to an eager blonde female assistant] Just remember to bring the loofah, huh, Sheila? [The assistant nods worshipfully and exits, stage left.]

O’REILLY [out loud, to contestants] Hey, guys, hope you’re ready to give it your all tonight! This little lady we’ve got on the show is very, very picky, and the hottest thing you’ve seen in a loooooong time. So remember, when the lights come up, put on those smiles and think ROMANCE!

SANTORUM [raising his hand tentatively]: Uh, Bill?

O’REILLY [whirling on SANTORUM]: For the last time, Rick, you are NOT cheating on your wife by being here. Now for Gawd’s sake, man up and let’s try to win this thing.

[BUSH and CHRISTIE snigger.]

SANTORUM: [mumbling] Took the Lord’s name in vain again. One day, Bill, you’ll be struck down!

CHRISTIE: Ha! This is going to be the easiest win ever! Sanctimonious moron. And look at JEB, he’s not even paying attention. Heh!

[BUSH twirls in his seat, staring at the ceiling.]

CHRISTIE [gesturing to the empty chair]: Hey, uh, what’s with the vacancy?

RONALD REAGAN’S VOICE: Hey, who you calling vacant!

ALL CONTESTANTS: What was that!

O’REILLY [smiling]: Yes, boys, you heard that right – it’s the ghost of Ronald Reagan! I told you to bring your A Game. He is going to be tough to beat!

ANNOUNCER’S VOICE: Bill, it’s time.

O’REILLY [striding to the center of the stage]: I’m ready!

[The lights come up. There is no actual crowd; canned applause is piped in at appropriate intervals.]

O’REILLY: Welcome, America, to a very special version of “The Dating Game!” I’m your host, BILL O’REILLY. Let’s meet tonight’s contestants!

[The spotlight moves to SANTORUM.]

SANTORUM: Hi, America. I’m Bachelor Number One, Rick Santorum! I enjoy obsessing about homosexuality, advocating for policies that were last popular in the Dark Ages, and going to the Creationist Museum to ride dinosaurs!

O’REILLY: Thanks, Rick! Next, let’s go to Chris Christie.

CHRISTIE: Hey, America, how you doin’? I’m Bachelor Number Two, CHRIS CHRISTIE, the governor of the great state of New Jersey. I enjoy yelling at people who disagree with me, misusing Hurricane Sandy Relief Funds, and blocking my constituents’ access to the George Washington Bridge!

O’REILLY: I hope you like pina coladas too! And what about you, sir?

BUSH [who has mercifully stopped twirling]: Hi, America, I’m Bachelor Number Three, Jeb Bush. I’m the ex-governor of Florida, and the brother of our wonderful 43rd President, George W. Bush! I like money, lots and lots of money, and I’ve got plenty to show off! All my political positions are, well, for sale, so as long as you’ve got the dough, I won’t say no!

O’REILLY: I love a guy who puts it all out there! And finally, our most prestigious guest!

RONALD REAGAN’S VOICE: Heh-heh, Bill, there you go again! I’m Bachelor Number Four, Ronald Reagan. I’m sure you all know who I am by now. Sure, I officially moved on to that Great Cineplex in the Sky a while back, but since none of you can ever forget what an incredible President I was, I’m not really dead!

[Wild fake applause.]

O’REILLY: What a fantastic group of guys. Gals of America, how could you resist?! Well, you all know how this works. The men stay behind the wall, while the lucky little lady comes out and is introduced to the audience. So, without further ado, let me introduce tonight’s guest: The Republican Voter!

[The Republican Voter enters, smiling and waving, to more fake applause and festive music. She is about 45, well-maintained, with a mane of blond hair, glossy pink lipstick and a perfect French manicure. Her clothes are designer casual.]

REPUBLICAN VOTER [brightly]: Hey, Bill. I’m so looking forward to meeting tonight’s contestants! I can’t wait to make my choice for November 2016.

O’REILLY: That’s just terrific, RVee! Whoops, I forgot to ask: Can I call you RVee?

REPUBLICAN VOTER: I’d be honored, Bill! An RV is such an American form of transportation, and I sure do love America!

O’REILLY: We know you do! Let’s get started. What is your first question?

RVEE: Okay! Um, this question is for Bachelor Number Two: Given the recent riots in Baltimore, how many guns should we buy to protect ourselves from angry welfare recipients?

CHRISTIE: Ummm, what?

RVEE [miffed]: I’m sorry, do you actually want me to repeat that question?

CHRISTIE [knowing he’s not impressing her]: Oh! No, no, of course not. I completely get you, RVEE, and I hear where you’re coming from. But sometimes, don’t you feel like there are too many guns in our communities?

RVEE [eyes rolling]:  Oh right, as though I’m going to let some government official take MY gun away! Bachelor Number Four, how about you? Same question.

REAGAN’S GHOST: RVEE, I believe every American should have the right to defend himself, or herself, as the case may be.

RVEE [nodding and smiling]: That’s right! I like that. Hmmm, okay. Bachelor Number One, how badly do you think homosexuality is ruining the American family?

SANTORUM [excitedly]: Oh my gosh, RVEE, it is the worst threat to the American family since welfare! As you know, having children through technology is a sin against the Lord’s teachings. Sex should be between a man and a woman, and hopefully both partners will have one foot on the floor! Amen.

RVEE [enthusiastically]: A-MEN! All right, let’s give Bachelor Number Three a chance. Your question is: if you were President, how many times would you have nuked ISIS by now?

BUSH [confusedly]: ISIS? I used to love that show. You know, “Oh, Mighty Isis!” and then she would turn into a goddess? Man, what ever happened to that actress. What was her name again? Anywho, doesn’t matter. I guess if you want me to nuke her, RVEE, I’m down – and I’ll do it as many times as you want me to! I’m all about YOU, baby.

[O’REILLY slaps his forehead in disgust.]

RVEE [appalled]: My Gawd, Bill, who is that moron? How did HE make it on the show?

O’REILLY [grimly]: Between you and me, RVEE, I think nepotism might have had something to do with it. Let’s move on –

SANTORUM [interrupting]: Hey, RVEE, I’m sure you didn’t MEAN to use the Lord’s name in vain, but can we keep it clean from now on? This is a family values show.

RVEE [insulted]: I can’t believe he would tell ME to keep it clean! Who does he think he is?! Well! That leaves out Number One, Number Two and Number Three. So far the only one I like is Number Four! But let’s just make sure he’s really The One. Number Four, final question: What would you do if you were my date for November 2016 through 2024?

REAGAN’S GHOST: Well, RVEE, I’ll tell you. It would be morning in America. People would be optimistic about the future again, instead of hearing all that doom and gloom those tree-huggers all talk about. You would be able to trust your government again, knowing that your President is a white, Christian male who loves America as much as you do!

RVEE [dreamy-eyed]: Wow! THANK you, Bachelor Number Four. You really understand me!

REAGAN’S GHOST: I always did! My speechwriters surely knew how to make you love me.

RVEE [confused]: Wait a minute – you’ve already been my date?

REAGAN’S GHOST: Of course! I’m surprised you don’t remember. I was with you from 1980 – 1988!

RVEE [aghast]: BILL – you put Reagan’s ghost on this show with me? [wailing] He’s the only one I like – and he’s DEAD! [begins sobbing uncontrollably]

O’REILLY [throwing his mike on the ground]: Cut! CUT I SAID!

[The spotlight turns off; regular lights come up.]

O’REILLY: All you jerks GET OUT! Especially you, Ronnie! What an idiot I was to let you play.

REAGAN’S GHOST: Heh-heh. Just goes to show, facts are stupid things! Goodbyyyyyyyyeeeee….

[All the bachelors sheepishly walk offstage.]

O’REILLY [walking over to RVEE, stroking her arm consolingly]: Now honey, I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you! We really didn’t give you such a good choice this time. I promise we’ve got lots of other great bachelors to look at, and there’s plenty of time to make a selection before November rolls around.

[RVEE calms down and hooks her arm in his.]

RVEE: You’re right, Bill. I mean, there are like 20 more bachelors out there! I’m sure I can find one of them who can compete with REAGAN’S GHOST!

O’REILLY: I’m sure we can! After all, it’s not like you’re going to vote for Hillary Clinton!

[They both laugh and begin to walk offstage.]

RVEE: Oh Bill – I forgot! Let me get my purse.

[RVEE goes to the seat where she had been sitting, and she picks up the purse left behind it. She turns back towards O’REILLY, and as she does, we see there is a “Hillary 2016” button attached to the strap. RVEE turns back and faces us, then gives us a wink.]

[LIGHTS OUT.]

Libertarian Island

Libertarian Island

Good Morning, Widdershins.  Madama B is off on another work adventure. I could use a (not working) trip myself.  Since it’s Spring Break, y’all go home and back your bags – we’re off on the Annual Widdershins Convention at our favorite resort – Libertarian Island.  Save me a deck chair.  Can’t wait for one of those drinks with the little umbrella in it. Seriously, Mad wrote this is 2009.  See how close we have come to the precipice?  Read through the comments that were posted at the time – it’s more than just a little bit scary, folks. That said, we of the Great Unwashed 99% might as well have a little fun at the beach ourselves.

 

SCENE I: A busy urban street. Two middle-aged white men, BOB and JOE, are waiting at a stoplight, having a spirited political discussion. They have been friends for years and the discussion has the feel of ritual. BOB: Look, I just don’t trust the government to run my health care. In fact, I don’t want ’em doing anything for me at all. I just want to live my life without government interference. What’s wrong with that? Besides, the American health care system is the best in the world! JOE (sighing): Oh, forgawd’ssake, BOB, give it a rest already. I wish just for once you could live in that Libertarian Paradise you’re always talking about. I’d bet you’d be begging for government to come back in about half a second! (The light changes. BOB and JOE start walking across the street, too absorbed in their conversation to pay much attention to where they’re going.) BOB: No, seriously, JOE. The only thing to do is make government so small we can drown it in a bathtub. Every man for himself. It’s the only way we can be free! JOE: Ahhh, BOB, don’t you get that all corporations care about is their bottom line? I’m telling you — (Out of nowhere, a bus, out of control, careens into the intersection and smacks right into the hapless friends. Strangely, the marquee on the top of the bus reads “Liberty Express.” BOB and JOE fly in opposite directions as the scene fades to black.) SCENE II: A lush island Paradise. The sky is a lovely blue festooned with decorative, puffy white clouds. BOB is lying on a hammock strung between two palm trees. Behind him, the facade of an impossibly luxurious resort hotel can be seen; in front of him is a beautifully landscaped infinity pool, complete with waterfall and fat-free bathing beauties in bikinis. BOB is unconscious, but appears to be otherwise unharmed by his encounter with the Liberty Express. Slowly, he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. BOB (wonderingly): What the fuck?! (One of the bikini-clad babes, perfectly tan and blonde, strolls over to BOB with a drink in her hand.) BLONDE (liltingly): Hello, Bob! Welcome to Libertarian Island. Care for a complimentary beverage? BOB (confused): What – what happened? BLONDE (comfortingly): That’s really not important, Bob. Everything will be explained to you shortly. I’m just here to provide you with your complimentary beverage. Do you want it or not? It’s got a cute little umbrella and everything! BOB (totally lost): Uh…yes??? (The BLONDE hands him the drink, which he sips tentatively. A huge smile blossoms across his face.) BOB: Wow! That’s the best martini I’ve ever had. How did you know it was my favorite? BLONDE (wagging her finger, flirtily stern): Uh-uh-uh! Drink up! (BOB finishes his drink. His eyelids lower to half mast as the potent alcohol kicks in.) BOB (tipsy): Thanks, uh…what did you say your name was? BLONDE (coldly): I didn’t. (lifts her wrist to her mouth) Okay, he’s ready. (She walks away, completely indifferent now that she has performed her duty, and happily situates herself on the lounge chair from whence she came.) BOB: What – where are you going? (He starts to follow her, but a man clad all in white robes steps in front of him, blocking his access to the BLONDE. The man looks like a Ken doll, the ultimate Republican idea of perfection. In fact, his name is KEN. Cool, huh?) KEN: Now, BOB, let’s just calm down. My name is KEN, and I’m here to officially welcome you to – Libertarian Island! (A banner unfurls from the palm trees between which BOB’s hammock is tied. The pristine white, beautifully-inked banner reads, of course, “Welcome to Libertarian Island.” Below that declaration are the words “Freedom IS Free! Free, Freedy, Freedelicious Freedom!”) BOB (in awe): Cool! KEN: I’m here to be your guide and to help make your stay more enjoyable. BOB: How could it be more enjoyable? I mean, (gesturing) LOOK at this place! KEN: Well, BOB, this place certainly is beautiful. But this is not where you’re going to be staying. Step this way, please. (KEN leads BOB past the bikini babes, who loftily ignore him, and towards a dirt path in the elegant green sward. After a minute of walking, BOB notices something strange.) BOB: Hey KEN – is that a door?! KEN: Yes it is, BOB. You see, you were in the visitor’s section of Libertarian Island. When you go through this door, you will see the rest of the island. I promise, you’re going to love it! BOB (confidently): Of course I will. I mean, this is Libertarian Island, so I’m assuming we’ve got that damn government out of our lives and are free to create a better society through choice and competition! KEN: Ab-so-LUTELY! (opening the door) And heeeeerrrre we are! Read the rest of this entry »

Libertarian Island

Libertarian Island

Our Madamab was traveling yesterday. So to help out I found this play which probably is still relevant today.

I hope y’all enjoy.

SCENE I: A busy urban street. Two middle-aged white men, BOB and JOE, are waiting at a stoplight, having a spirited political discussion. They have been friends for years and the discussion has the feel of ritual.

BOB: Look, I just don’t trust the government to run my health care. In fact, I don’t want ’em doing anything for me at all. I just want to live my life without government interference. What’s wrong with that? Besides, the American health care system is the best in the world!

JOE (sighing): Oh, forgawd’ssake, BOB, give it a rest already. I wish just for once you could live in that Libertarian Paradise you’re always talking about. I’d bet you’d be begging for government to come back in about half a second!

(The light changes. BOB and JOE start walking across the street, too absorbed in their conversation to pay much attention to where they’re going.)

BOB: No, seriously, JOE. The only thing to do is make government so small we can drown it in a bathtub. Every man for himself. It’s the only way we can be free!

JOE: Ahhh, BOB, don’t you get that all corporations care about is their bottom line? I’m telling you —

(Out of nowhere, a bus, out of control, careens into the intersection and smacks right into the hapless friends. Strangely, the marquee on the top of the bus reads “Liberty Express.” BOB and JOE fly in opposite directions as the scene fades to black.)

SCENE II: A lush island Paradise. The sky is a lovely blue festooned with decorative, puffy white clouds. BOB is lying on a hammock strung between two palm trees. Behind him, the facade of an impossibly luxurious resort hotel can be seen; in front of him is a beautifully landscaped infinity pool, complete with waterfall and fat-free bathing beauties in bikinis. BOB is unconscious, but appears to be otherwise unharmed by his encounter with the Liberty Express. Slowly, he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

BOB (wonderingly): What the fuck?!

(One of the bikini-clad babes, perfectly tan and blonde, strolls over to BOB with a drink in her hand.)

BLONDE (liltingly): Hello, Bob! Welcome to Libertarian Island. Care for a complimentary beverage?

BOB (confused): What – what happened?

BLONDE (comfortingly): That’s really not important, Bob. Everything will be explained to you shortly. I’m just here to provide you with your complimentary beverage. Do you want it or not? It’s got a cute little umbrella and everything!

BOB (totally lost): Uh…yes???

(The BLONDE hands him the drink, which he sips tentatively. A huge smile blossoms across his face.)

BOB: Wow! That’s the best martini I’ve ever had. How did you know it was my favorite?

BLONDE (wagging her finger, flirtily stern): Uh-uh-uh! Drink up!

(BOB finishes his drink. His eyelids lower to half mast as the potent alcohol kicks in.)

BOB (tipsy): Thanks, uh…what did you say your name was?

BLONDE (coldly): I didn’t. (lifts her wrist to her mouth) Okay, he’s ready.

(She walks away, completely indifferent now that she has performed her duty, and happily situates herself on the lounge chair from whence she came.)

BOB: What – where are you going?

(He starts to follow her, but a man clad all in white robes steps in front of him, blocking his access to the BLONDE. The man looks like a Ken doll, the ultimate Republican idea of perfection. In fact, his name is KEN. Cool, huh?)

KEN: Now, BOB, let’s just calm down. My name is KEN, and I’m here to officially welcome you to – Libertarian Island!

(A banner unfurls from the palm trees between which BOB’s hammock is tied. The pristine white, beautifully-inked banner reads, of course, “Welcome to Libertarian Island.” Below that declaration are the words “Freedom IS Free! Free, Freedy, Freedelicious Freedom!”)

BOB (in awe): Cool!

KEN: I’m here to be your guide and to help make your stay more enjoyable.

BOB: How could it be more enjoyable? I mean, (gesturing) LOOK at this place!

KEN: Well, BOB, this place certainly is beautiful. But this is not where you’re going to be staying. Step this way, please.

(KEN leads BOB past the bikini babes, who loftily ignore him, and towards a dirt path in the elegant green sward. After a minute of walking, BOB notices something strange.)

BOB: Hey KEN – is that a door?!

KEN: Yes it is, BOB. You see, you were in the visitor’s section of Libertarian Island. When you go through this door, you will see the rest of the island. I promise, you’re going to love it!

BOB (confidently): Of course I will. I mean, this is Libertarian Island, so I’m assuming we’ve got that damn government out of our lives and are free to create a better society through choice and competition!

KEN: Ab-so-LUTELY! (opening the door) And heeeeerrrre we are!

Read the rest of this entry »

Hi all, I hope you enjoy this old play about Dubya and his book. Next week I should have some more original material for you. 🙂 Enjoy!

Im A Famous Writer!

I’m A Famous Writer!

(NOTE: This play was inspired by this quote from Dubya about why he’s writing a book about his time as President:

Bush said it will be fun to write and that “it’s going to be (about) the 12 toughest decisions I had to make.”
“I’m going to put people in my place, so when the history of this administration is written at least there’s an authoritarian voice (emphasis added) saying exactly what happened,” Bush said
.

Thanks, George – and thanks, M3, for the quote!)

THE SCENE: Dubya’s swank new house in Dallas, Texas. No more fake ranchin’  and clearin’ brush for this Connecticut Cowboy! George is sitting in his home office, which is decorated in Rawhide Chic and covered with pictures of him in all his Preznitial glory. He is leaning back in his brown leather office chair and playing with a pencil, apparently in deep thought.

A knock is heard at the door.)

GEORGE: Come in!

(Dubya’s wife, LAURA, enters.)

LAURA: How are things going, honey? How’s your first day as a writer?

GEORGE: Well, Lumpy, I have to admit I’m having a tough time with gettin’ started. Turd Blossom says I have to pick my twelve hardest decisions as President and write about them. Heck, all my decisions were easy. I just followed my gut and listened to Dick. I slept like a baby every night!

LAURA: Well, the Jack and Coke cocktails didn’t hurt there!

(Both laugh.)

GEORGE: Yeah, you mix a mean one, Lumpy! But seriously, you were a librarian – you know about books and things. Do you have any suggestions? I’m kinda stumped.

LAURA (sitting down in the wing chair opposite his desk): Well, honey, you could always hire a ghost writer. That’s what most people do.

GEORGE (sharply): No! I don’t want to do that. I want an – an authoritarian voice telling people EXACTLY what it was like to be in my shoes on 9/11. If you want an authoritarian, you gotta go with me!

LAURA (dryly): How true. Well, then, let’s try to make a list of your best moments in office. Let’s not worry about if they were tough decisions or not. Let’s show the people just how great you were at being The Decider!

Read the rest of this entry »


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Kellyanne Conway’s new job

Take the kids to work? NO!

That moment when *your* pussy gets grabbed

You go gurl! h/t Adam Joseph

“The” Book

Nice picture of our gal

Time till the Grifter in Chief is Gone

Hopefully soonerJanuary 21st, 2021
24 months to go.

Mueller Time!

Wise Words from Paul Ryan

B-I-N-G-O!

Only the *best* politicans bought by the NRA

Marching for their lives

Perfect Picture

Rudy: oh shit the pee tape IS real!

Need Reminders?

Never too early to shop for Christmas

“Look this way”

Manafort’s Jail Photo

Indeed who?

Trump spam

IOW Dumb = Happy?

Simply Put

Ironic

Awrite! Here’s your damned wall

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