WASHINGTON – Today’s uncovering of secret multi-agency program for shipping illegal Gibson guitars to Mexican drug cartels left red-faced officials of the U.S. Department of Justice scrambling for an explanation amid angry calls for a Congressional investigation.

“I have ordered all agency personnel to fully cooperate in any Congressional inquiries, including all reasonable document request, as soon as we can redact them with Sharpie pens and lighter fluid,” said U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder.

The secret program came to light early this morning in the border town of Nogales, Arizona, after what was described as a wild battle of the bands between members of the Sinaloa cartel and Los Zetas, two of Mexico’s most notorious violent drug gangs.

“Usually these guys are armed with Mexican Strats and Squires, Epiphones, small caliber stuff like that,” said Pedro Ochoa, 36, an eye witness to the sonic melee. “This time they were packing the heavy firepower.”

The steady barrage of power chords and piercing solo attacks attracted the attention of nearby U.S. Border Patrol agents, who arrived at the scene just as Los Zetas broke into Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song.’ By the time the dust had cleared, U.S. Border Patrol Agent Oscar Jimenez was found in a catatonic state of headbanging. He was later flown to University of Arizona Hospitals, where his condition is listed as seriously rawked.

The spandex-clad suspects were able to flee back into Mexico, but not before abandoning their arsenal of axes – the quality of which shocked Border Patrol agents.

“I’ve been working the border for over 25 years and have never seen a weapons cachet like this,” said Patrol Supervisor Mike Foreman. “A ‘53 Goldtop, a ‘59 Black Beauty, Flying V’s, a whole armory of SGs. Enough for an entire guitarmy. It’s a wonder there weren’t any total shreddings.”

Suspicions that the U.S. Department of Justice was involved in the case first arose after agents noticed “Property of the U.S. Department of Justice” embossed on the back of each guitar. A trace of the serial numbers confirmed that they were confiscated only days earlier by DoJ agents from the Gibson Guitar Company in Memphis.

Responding to a Freedom of Information Act request, Justice Department officials admitted that the guitars were part of a complicated sting program know as “Operation Fast and Fretless,” ostensibly designed to stem traffic of illegal guitars and amplifiers between the U.S. and Mexico. The multi-agency program – involving Justice, ICE, TSA, EPA, IRS, FDA, Fish & Wildlife, USDA, and the Bureau of Whiskey, Groupies & Hotel Rooms – reportedly encourage border area pawn shops to sell the guitars to known drug kingpins.

Justice spokesman Gary Evans said the Nogales incident yesterday showed the program was a success. “By putting American guitars in the hands of Mexican gangs, I think we’ve proven what we’ve warned all along – that Mexican gangs have access to American guitars. Hopefully this will lead to sane and sensible guitar controls.”

Despite the defense of the program, Darrel Issa (R-CA), Chairman of the U.S. House Committee on Heavy Metal Affairs is expected to call hearings soon.

“We need to get to the bottom of this thing before it gets out of hand,” said Issa. “We have reports that Justice is also providing Colombian cocaine gangs with AutoTune.”

Crueler folks have already analyzed Mr. Cusack’s 140-character musings and theorized the poor fellow has finally cracked under the pressure of living in the shadow of his more popular and talented sibling Joan; a clear misdiagnosis, in my opinion, as these armchair psychologists understand neither method acting nor the inner workings of the film industry. Rather than a cry for help, any fool can see that Mr. Cusack’s curious tweeting is a cleverly disguised request for new script pitches from Hollywood writing professionals. Like myself.

Well, this is one aspiring screen scribe who knows an opportunity when he sees one! So I quick put together a few sure-fire plot treatments designed at relaunching Mr. Cusack’s moribund career. Synopses below.

And John, if you’re reading this? My option (and spell-checking) fees are very reasonable. Let’s do lunch.

********** 

HellChecker – suspense horror piece about a demonically possessed MacBook Pro that mutilates a man’s internet postings to make him appear an illiterate meth head (alt title: Shredded Tweet)

Spew Anything – a moping lovesick middle aged teen stands outside the internet’s bedroom window in a trenchcoat, holding aloft a boombox that plays a stream of gibberish

46 Candles – A lonely middle aged outcast wakes up for his Sweet Forty-Sixth birthday only to discover no one remembers – and no one cares. Can he finally get the other kids at Huffington High to notice?

THE A.D.D. DOZEN – ENSEMBLE ONLINE WAR ACTION ABOUNDS AS CAPTAIN BUZZ CAPSLOCK (John Cusack) AND LT. DEMENTO ITALICO (Matt Damon) LEAD AN ALL-STAR ALL-CAPS SUICIDE MISSION BEHIND RIGHT WING LINES. CAN THEY MAKE IT OUT BEFORE THEY EXHAUST THEIR SHIFT KEYS AND RITALIN?

Hot Tweet Time Machine – Remember those awful Oughties? Enjoy retro laughs as a WiFi connection magically transports a group of aging social media losers (John Cusack, Sean Penn, Roger Ebert) back to the year 2008 where they must survive an alien dystopia wracked by Gitmo, Middle East war, and 6% unemployment

Cracka RTIma Lijke RTWhateva Bith – Explosive buddy action flick featuring Twitter superstars John Cusack and 50 Cent as two headstrong detectives who must communicate a terrorist plot before it’s too late (directed by Michael Bay, with English subtitles)

The Grammarian – Victorian biopic about misunderstood poet Chalmondeley Blackthorne (John Cusack) who is wrongly committed to an 19th Century British insane asylum after creating a new language consisting only of random characters and punctuation marks.

Exclamation Point Hardboiled gumshoe Sam Spacekey (John Cusack) tracks a psychopath sabotaging  Hollywood’s typewriters in this stylish noir detective thriller set in 1946 L.A.

Signulls – Scientists monitoring space alien communications find an unlikely interpreter in a brain-damaged Amish farmer (John Cusack) in this sci fi thriller from director M. Night Shyamalan. With Janeane Garofalo as “the visitor”

Me Johnny – Heartwarming tale of a wealthy learning disabled Malibu asshole (John Cusack) who overcomes his fear of incoherent screaming thanks to a miracle-working educator (Naomi Klein)

That overnight sensation belting out the State of Union? None other than me, Barry Obama. Just a scrappy skinny kid from the mean streets of Honolulu with a silky baritone and a pocketful of dreams. Now I’ve got those high rollers eating straight from the ever-lovin’ palm of my hand. Little do they know I’ve got another dream — the craziest heist the D.C. strip has ever seen.

BARRY

Spend me to the moon, and let me play around with TARP,
Give the folks some stimulus so they can all buy cars.
In other words, cut the debt.
In other words, fiscal re-spons-i-bility.

Yeah!

Appropriate that cash, just like you’re Johnny Maynard Keynes,
We need jobs and health care and some light rail urban trains,
In other words, tighten belts.
In other words, ef-fic-i-ency.

Spend meeeeeee (hit it boys) to the moooo-oooo-oooooon!

Look-out-Old-Barry’s-back!

(Crowd cheers)

BARRY
Thanks everybody, you’ve been a wonderful Congress. Remember to tip your lobbyists!

(Amid a shower of roses and panties, Barry sprints to the wings where he is greeted by his managers Twinkletoes Emanuel and Spats Axelrod).

TWINKLETOES
You slayed ‘em, Barry! Just like the old days back on the DNC vaudeville circuit! Listen to dat house go wild. Now get out there and take your curtain call!

BARRY
No dice, Twinky. Rule #1 in fiscal showbiz: always leave ‘em wanting more.

SPATS
Don’t let that ovation go to your head, kid. Remember we’ve got a bigger act to rehearse for. Speaking of which, it’s time to get back to the oval hospitality suite.

EMCEE
Ladies and gentlemen, Barry has just left the theater.

(On the way to the hospitality suite, Twinky and Spats shove aside various autograph hounds and golddiggers)

SHOWGIRLS (Rachel Maddow, Katie Couric, Andrea Mitchell, Helen Thomas, Chris Matthews)
Call us, Barry!

CHARLES GIBSON
Kid, your act is sensational! Stupendous! I want to sign you for an exclusive 52-week network interview contract!

BRIAN WILLIAMS
Scram, Charlie, I was here first! Whatever he’s offering you, I’ll double it!

STEVE CROFT
I’ll triple it!

OPRAH WINFREY
Honey, I’ll give you a blank check… and all the brown sugar you can handle.

SPATS
One side, boys! Call the office on Monday. Barry has some personal business to attend to. 

(inside the hospitality suite)

TWINKLETOES
Phew! I thought we’d never get through those fucking retards.

BARRY
You said it. Say, how about those drinks, Pussycat?

PUSSYCAT PELOSI
Coming right up, Tiger.

TWINKLETOES
Okay wise guys, what’s the big secret? What’s this “new act” business?

BARRY AND SPATS
Heist.

TWINKLETOES
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Nyet. No way, Joe-Say. Do I have to remind you jokers what happened with that Annenberg Challenge caper? We barely got out of that jam unindicted!

BARRY
We got out didn’t we? Besides, that was small potatoes, Twink. What we’re talking about is the biggest heist yet.

SPATS
The biggest in history, baby.

TWINKLETOES
Which is… ?

PUSSYCAT 
The United States Treasury. Okay, that’s one Zima on the rocks for Twinky… one chardonnay spritzer for Spats… and for you, tall dark and handsome, one double Arugula Martini.

BARRY
Did you remember to make it dry?

PUSSYCAT 
Drier than my va-jay-jay, loverboy.

TWINKLETOES
Hey — what gives, youse bums? How come Granma Moses knows more about this caper than me? No offense, Pussycat, but I don’t trust dames. No matter how old they are.

BARRY
Relax, Twinky. Pussycat helped us plan the whole job. We didn’t tell you sooner because of that big filthy mouth of yours.

TWINKLETOES
Okay, okay, so I drop a few inconvenient f-bombs now and then. So sue me for Tourettes. But I’m tellin’ youse guys, you are nuts if you think we can pull a job on the Mint! We don’t have the manpower!

SPATS
You worry too much, Twink. As a matter of fact, We were just about to assemble the whole team right now.

TWINKLETOES
Team? What team?

BARRY
The old Chicago community organizing unit.

TWINKLETOES
The Fightin’ 101st Southside Grifters? Why didn’t you say so… deal me in, Daddy-o!

(montage of Obama’s Eleven getting summoned)

************

(pulpit of Southside church)

PREACHER WRIGHT
God bless America?? No, God DAMN America! The Chickens are coming HOME to… um, I am sorry, brothers and sisters, it’s my goddamn cell. Gotta take this. Whuuuh?! Huuuuhhh??? Praise Sweet goddamn Jesus, Barry, I’m on the next flight out of O’Hare. Bye. Now where was I? Can I get a goddamn A-Men!

************

(Inside the Illinois State Prison)

GUARD
Rezko! Blagojevich!

BLAGO
Whaddaya want, you filthy screw?

FAT TONY
Yeah, we weren’t doin’ nuttin’.

GUARD
Pack up your stuff, youse mugs, You just got pardons from Diamond Pat Quinn. Something about a community service parole with “Project 101,” whatever that is.

FAT TONY
Heh.

BLAGO
Heh heh heh.

FAT TONY AND BLAGO
Hah hahhah hahaha haha!!! Heee ho hahhahah!

GUARD
Shaddup!

************

(A lecture hall at the University of Illinois-Chicago)

“BILLY THE BRAIN” AYERS
… and now, to perform an interpretive dance commemorating Amerikkka’s racism against the indigenous peoples, my wife, Professor Boom Boom Dohrn. Pay close attention, for this material will be on the midterm and… what in the name of Charles Manson is the meaning of this rude interruption? Can’t you see we are learning here!

SECRETARY
I’m sorry Professor, but you just received this emergency telegram from Washington DC. It seemed like it could be important.

BOOM BOOM
It better be — or I’ll stab your eyes out you filthy white bourgeois secretary pig of empire!

BRAIN
Washington, you say? Let me see that… mmblmbm. hmbmlm? mlmbmbm! Alright, class dismissed. But I want those genocide essays on my desk by next Tuesday! Five pages, double-spaced!

************

(A back office the Illinois State Capitol in Springfield)

ALEXI “DAGREEK” GIANNOULIAS
Litsen, my friend, I’m nad ganna wase yer time wid a ladda small tak. I gadda ladda invintory I gadda move, en I’m ready ta wheel en deal. So lemme aks youse, whadda I gadda do to get yer iss into dis fine luxury Illinoise state candract today?

PAVEMENT CONTRACTOR
I don’t know, maybe I should talk it over with my slush fund manager before… is that some sort of dollar sign light in the sky? Outside you window?

DAGREEK  
Holy skata! Dass da signal fer the ol’ 101! Barry must be puttin’ da old gang bick tagedder. Litsen, pal, I gadda go. But call me next week about dat candract, I’ll trow in free unnercoating en a two-year briber’s pertection plan.

************

(inside a Southside confessional)

CONFESSOR
Fergive me fodder for I hiv sint.

PADDY O’PFLEGER
Bless you my son. Now what kind of sinnin’ have you been doin’ then?

CONFESSOR
Let’s see, I tore up Meigs Field wid some bulldozers, dere was that hiert truck ting, and a couple cost overruns at O’Hare. Oh yeah, I took da Lord’s name in vaint.

PADDY O’PFLEGER
Well now. If it isn’t little Richie Daley. Tsk tsk, Richie, what would your late sainted mother say about all of your mischief? Now for your penance I want you to say 10 Hail Marys, 2 Acts of Contrition, and give me 5% of the gross on those truck contracts unless you’ll be wantin’ to see me parishioners picketin’ outside City Hall.

(knock knock)

VOICE
Pssst…. heist meeting tonight at Barry Obama’s.

LITTLE RICHIE
Errr…. was dat message fer me or you?

PADDY O’PFLEGER
Why don’t you take it Richie. I’m picketing against the US military occupation of Haiti this weekend.

************

(Outside Keebler Headquarters, Elmhurst, IL)

JESSE “PUSH” JACKSON SR.
The voices of our community cry out. For too long. the Keebler Company has engaged. in the bigoted policies. of. Jim Crow. Elves of color continue. to be denied. cookie baking. opportunities. Ernie Keebler. must step down. as the tiny cookie cracker Bull Conner. of this. hollow tree. of shame. We call on the community. to boycott. Keebler. until they apologize. with $200,000. in small unmarked. bills.

(aide whispers into ear)

Or. best offer. I must. go now.

*************

(back inside the Oval Hospitality Suite, Obama’s Eleven is gathered around the boardroom table, drinking cocktails and getting neck massages from the Congressional Showgirl Caucus)

BABS BOXER
Refill on that Cosmopolitan, Fat Tony?

FAT TONY
Don’t mind if I do, doll. Make it a double. I gotta hand it to ya Barry, you’ve come a long way since Hyde Park.

DAGREEK
Yeah, dis Washington sure is da life! Maybe I’ll move here somedime.

BARRY
Sorry fellas, it’s time to get down to business. Okay dollies, time to go take a nap.

SHOWGIRLS
Aww!

BLANCHE LINCOLN
Must we, sugar? We were just getting all comfy and cozy-like with your big strong friends from Chicago.

DIXIE LANDRIEU
I do declare, these boys have political muscles on top of their political muscles.

BARRY
You heard me, ladies, scram. Here, take a billion and go buy yourselves some pretty little earmarks.

DIXIE
Oh Barry, aren’t you the sweetest thing! Come on girls, let’s get to K Street before it closes. I’m gonna buy my momma a Tiffany freeway bypass.

BARRY
Dames. Whattaya gonna do.

BLAGO
We appreciate da high roller treatment, Barry, but why don’t you tell us what youse guys got up yer sleeve.

BARRY
Gentlemen, I don’t have to tell you that inside this room sits the greatest assemblage of bag men, shakedown artist, fixers, and demolition experts that Cook County has ever produced. And deep underneath this humble Potomac Casino lies the ultimate whale: the United States Treasury. And, as the headliner in the main lounge, I have the combination. Together, gentlemen, we are going to liberate it.

PREACHER
Tell us something we don’t know, fool! You talkin’ crazy!

BARRY
Crazy like a fox, Preacher. In fact, this job will be like taking candy from a baby. An entire generation of babies.

LITTLE RICHIE
Dat’s what you said about the Olympics caper.

BLAGO
Yeah, dat place is crawlin’ wit dem Tea Party Pinkertons. They got security webcams everywhere!

SPATS
That’s why we’ve cooked up a little wing-a-ding-ding distraction.

LITTLE RICHIE
Distriction?

BARRY
It’s a new bossa nova number we call… shutting the lights off in Vegas.

OBAMA’S ELEVEN
Whuuuh—huhhhh!??

TWINKLETOES
Dat’s right boys. In fact, thanks to Ol’ Brown Eyes here, Glitter Gulch is already running on half power. After Andy Stern and the Nevada SEIU boys go on strike and Barry doobie-doobie-doos another anti-Vegas press conference ballad, then, pow! Lights out, baby.

SPATS
And for a little added insurance, Barry has some emergency stimulus funds for Brain and Boom Boom to do a little deconstruction on Hoover Dam.

BRAIN
Burn baby burn!

BOOM BOOM
Wild, man! I’m hip, I’m hip!

FAT TONY
Like I’m diggin’ your arpeggio, Daddy-O. Keep croonin’.

BARRY
In the confusion, that’s when the rest of you boys get to work. Little Richie is gonna crack the lock. Preacher and Push, you’re gonna back a couple of disguised ACORN buses to the loading dock. The rest of you mugs are gonna make like Teamsters with the forklifts.

DAGREEK
It’s so friggin’ crazy it just might wirk.

BARRY
Gentlemen, a toast to Lady Luck… and to the reuniting of the Rat Pack.

OBAMA’S ELEVEN
To da Rat Pack!

BARRY
Now… (slamming palm on the pool table) who’s with me?

(one by one, Obama’s Eleven stack their hands on top of Barry’s)

******************

(at the Press Conference lounge, where Barry is performing an early dinner show)

SPATS (backstage on lapel mic)
Come in Team O. This is leader base. Sychronize Rolexes at 1900 hours.

(montage of Obama’s Eleven at designated locations, wearing jumpsuits and cat burglar gear)

LITTLE RICHIE
Check.

PUSH AND PREACHER
Check.

BLAGO, FAT TONY, DAGREEK
Check.

BRAIN AND BOOM BOOM
Wild, man!

SPATS (to BARRY)
All systems are go. You’re on, kid.

TWINKLETOES
Ladies and Gentlemen, and media nutsack swingers of all ages, please put your hands together for America’s favorite entertainer, the Chairman of the Board, Mr. Barry Albert Obama!

(thunderous applause)

BARRY

How lucky can America be,
they elected little ol’ me,
Like the fella once said,
Ain’t That a Kick in the Fed?
Your future was completely black,
’til you hugged me and I hugged you back.
Like Soros said quote,
Don’t that make your interest rate float?
Your head keeps spinning;
You go to sleep and keep grinning;
If this is just the beginning,
Your life’s gonna be beautiful.
I’ve stimulus enough to spread;
It’s like the fella said,
Tell me quick, Ain’t love like a kick in the Fed?

Ain’t thaaaat… a kick in the Fehhhhd!

Yeah!

Questions?

SCOOP TAPPER
Tell us Champ, what’s your latest take on the economic situation?

BARRY
Lemme tell you. The big problem is we got too many of these big shot corporations throwin’ around their money. They gotta stop wastin’ their cash at dese fancy schmancy conventions.

SCOOP
Conventions? Like where?

BARRY
I’m glad you asked that. I’m talking specifically about…

SPATS (backstage on lapel mic)
Go go go! We have lift off!

(jump scene inside Hoover Dam; Brain and Boom Boom are wiring a bomb)

BRAIN
Roger that Spats! Now, where’s that wire…

BOOM BOOM
Off the pigs! Hey, what’s this button for?

KABLOOOOOIEEEE

(jump scene back to press room; lights flicker)

TWINKLETOES
Holy crap! Those two beatnik morons blew up the wrong power supply! Barry’s TelePrompter just went out!

BARRY
…about… places like… uhm… it’s right on the tip of my… inside-mouth lick-thing…

SPATS (sweating profusely)
Come oooooonnnn… you can do it… think, Barry, think!

BARRY
… place like… um… is it Vas Legas?

SCOOP
You mean Las Vegas?

BARRY
Yeah, yeah! That’s it! Las Vegas, uhhhh, bad. Bye bye, I go now!

TWINKLETOES
Phew! Dat was too close for comfort.

SPATS
You said it! If my calculations are correct Vegas will be going dark in precisely 47 seconds. Come on Barry, let’s get you to the motorcade pronto.

BARRY
But Prompty!

SPATS
Exnay on the Teleprompter! No time! We gotta rendezvous with the boys at exactly 2130 hours.

******************

(inside the Treasury vault)

LITTLE RICHIE
Left 33… left 21… left 666. Bingo! Come on youse clowns, open dat door.

BLAGO
Holy mackerel, feast your peepers on that pile of cabbage!

DAGREEK
14 trillion… 14 trillion bucks… 14 trillion sweet simolian smackerinos of legal tenner! Come to papa!

FAT TONY
And how. Now dat kinda dough would buy a lotta rental slum property in Englewood!

LITTLE RICHIE
If you goons are finished playin’ pocket pool, get busy loadin’ that dough on da pallets.

HORN
Beeeeep

LITTLE RICHIE
Hurry it up youse mugs! Push and Preacher are here with the buses!

(Outside, at the loading docks)

PREACHER
Where are them goddamn crackers? I got a goddamn sermon to prepare for Sunday.

PUSH
I am. going to. put in for. overtime.

******************

(Barry, Spats, and Twinky are hurtling down the Pennsylvania Avenue Strip when a mysterious Prius races by and cuts them off. They are forced to stop. A strange figure exits the Prius, wildly waving hands)

SPATS
What the hell is going on? Is that some kinda cop?

TWINKLETOES
No.. it’s some fat ugly blonde broad in an evening gown… with a butcher knife!

BARRY
That ain’t no broad! That’s dat lunatic autograph stalker Freak Olberman!

FREAK
I knew it! Oooooh, I just knew it! I knew it was you, Barry. I can see you in there, even behind the delicious smoked glass. Mmmmm, llll-lll-lll. Do you know what this means, Barry? This can’t be chance, it’s destiny! No matter what Mother says, we were meant to be together. Forever. That’s why I will always defend you on my television show. That’s why I always carefully and lovingly save my stools to send to your enemies. Have you get my latest Countdown Special Comment stoolcam video? Mother promised she sent it to you by certified mail, but I don’t believe her. Just like Mother doesn’t believe in us. She says it’s silly for me to keep a wig and gown in my car in case I see you. But we proved her wrong. Didn’t we, Barry? SEE, MOMMY??? Ha hah hah heh. Heh! And now, for your birthday, I would like to writhe on your big black hood and perform a special comment in song. Happy birthday toooo yoouuuu, happy birrrr-iiirrrthdayyyy to you, happy birthday mister Baaaarrryyyy O-baaa-maaa, Happy birthdaaaaay to yooooou. Giggle.

SPATS

TWINKLETOES

BARRY
Fer God’s sake hit the gas!

Fluhmppf Fladummpppfff

******************

(at the loading dock)

LITTLE RICHIE
Come on you dopes, get da lead out! Dis ain’t no union shop! We got one minute to load that last trillion.

FAT TONY
Aaaiiieee! My back! I tink I broke it!

BLAGO
Congrats, Tony! Lemme get you in touch wit a personal injury lawyer friend of mine.

LITTLE RICHIE
Leave ‘em for the cops you moron! We gotta go – now. Get these buses rolling. And Tony — remember what we do ta snitches.

FAT TONY
*gulp*

PREACHER (struggling to start his bus)
This goddamn thing won’t start!

(the team gathers around to inspect the disabled bus)

PUSH (reading the bus registration plate)
“This vehicle is a product of General Motors. Detroit, Michigan and Washington DC.”

LITTLE RICHIE
Dammit Blago, what’d I tell you about buyin’ two bit government equipment for this heist?

BLAGO
It’s Dagreek’s fault, Richie! I swear! I wanted to buy some good buses but Dagreek said we could skim the rebates.

DAGREEK
Shaddup you lousy rat!

LITTLE RICHIE
Shaddup da two of yers! At least we got one bus dat wirks. Everybody get on dat one. And dis time, I’m drivin’.

******************

(at the deserted Washington Mall rendezvous point, Barry, Spats and Twinky are pacing around the limo)

SPATS (on the radio)
Where the hell are youse guys?

LITTLE RICHIE
Keep your shirts on, we had some trouble. Fat Tony went down and we’re short about 8 trillion. Aw crap, cheese it! Da cops!

BARRY (grabbing radio)
FBI?

LITTLE RICHIE
No, CBO.

BARRY
Dammit! The Manchurian bond syndicate must have tipped them off. Can you outrun them?

LITTLE RICHIE
Not under full load. This bus is a freakin’ hybrid!

BARRY
Then you’re gonna have to lose some weight. You know the drill, Richie.

LITTLE RICHIE
Radger dat.

(One by one, Blago, Dagreek, Preacher and Push are thrown under the bus as it speeds down the Strip)

LITTLE RICHIE
Heh heh hah! I lost ‘em! I lost da cops! I should be at da rendezvous point in 30 seconds!

BARRY
Richie. Listen to me carefully. Did you remember to unload all those firebombs that Brain was hauling on that bus?

LITTLE RICHIE
Firebombs?

BLAFLOOSHHHH

(The rear of the ACORN bus bursts into flames, engulfing the $6 trillion cargo. Little Richie white-knuckles it on to the Washington Mall. The flaming bus hits an inexplicable ramp at 85 mph, spirals three times, and t-bones into the Reflecting Pool where it makes one last incendiary explosion. Little Richie swims to safety.)

TWINKLETOES (pulling a scorched and dripping wet Richie from the pool)
You okay dere Richie?

LITTLE RICHIE
Eh, no big deal. I ride the CTA sometimes.

SPATS (looking morosely on the $6 trillion going up in smoke on the flaming bus carcass)
*Sigh*. So close.

BARRY
We’ll get ‘em next fiscal year, Spats. You gotta admit, though, it is kind of a pretty sight. Kinda peaceful even. Like some kinda abstract sculpture, with them flames reflectin’ in the water.

TWINKLETOES
Yeah. Maybe we could dedicate it as the Barry Obama Memorial.

(Twinky, Spats, Richie and Barry walk glumly down the sidewalks of Pennsylvania Avenue with their hands in their pockets, to a bluesy harmonica theme)

VOICE OVER (BARRY)
Just another day at the craps tables in this nutty kookoo casino we call Washington DC. Sometimes you’re rolling sevens, sometimes no matter what you do you come up snake eyes. But Mister, that just means it’s time to dust yourself off and tip the cigarette dolly. Because in this crazy City of Dreams a jackpot is always one pull away. And there’s always a sequel around the corner.

BARRY

Show me a man without a dream, and I’ll show you a man that’s dead.
Reeeaaal dead. Daddy-o.
Once I had me a dream, but that dream got kicked in the head.
By the Fed.
Some electors say, I’m puttin’ you away,
Three more years not seven.
In the meantime,
O-o-ba-ma’s Eleven.
Eleven.
E-le-ven.

THE END?

**************

Scene 14: Christmas Eve, inside Bedford Falls Town Hall. Senator George Bailey confronts an angry mob of constituents protesting his vote on the new health care bill.
MAN #1
Come on Bailey, you can’t hide forever! Let us in!

WOMAN #1
Yeah, what is this mandatory insurance nonsense? Stop cowering behind that podium George! We want answers!

crowd erupts into shouting

GEORGE BAILEY
Now now now, everybody calm down, see? If you’ll, well, see, just let me explain…

MAN #2
You should’ve explained these death panels before we elected you! Let’s get ‘em!

WOMAN #2 (shaking pitchfork)
Yeah!

MAN #3
Hey, pipe down youse mugs, let the man talk. It’ll be 15 minutes before the tar is hot enough to pour. Out with it Bailey!

GEORGE BAILEY
Well well, thank you for that Pete. Now folks, see, you just gotta understand how Washington works. Remember how you, you sent me there to bring back free things to Bedford Falls, like free heath care and jobs and that new George S. Bailey retractable midnight basketball court for the high school gym?

MAN #4
Hey Bailey, do know how many kids drowned at the prom last year from that stupid thing?

GEORGE BAILEY
Well, now now now, Clem, sure a few kids drowned. But look at all the jobs it created down at the Potter Retractable Basketball Floor factory. And that’s my point. Now, see, down in Washington there’s a whole Senate full of regular guys like you and you, and me, and we represent thousands of places just like Bedford Falls. And all of those places want their own jobs and healthcare and retractable basketball courts. And it turns out all of this costs money, so we have to get, well, revenues…

WOMAN #3
You mean taxes?

GEORGE BAILEY
Well, yeah, Helen, if that’s how you want to put it. See, we put all those revenues in a, a, a, big pile there in Washington, and then we start making deals and such, to make sure we can all bring some home. Sometimes we run out, and have to make up for it with other fees…

MAN #2
You mean taxes? Why don’t you get it from Old Man Potter?

WOMAN #2
Yeah! Get it from Potter!

GEORGE BAILEY
Now, now, I hate old man Potter just as much as the rest of you. Maybe more. He lives in that cold old mansion up there on Beacon Hill, while you’re getting laid off and trying to make ends meet. It just isn’t right, and that’s why I organized the big ACORN march against him last year. But I’m telling you, even if we confiscated every penny he has, we couldn’t pay for your free universal health care. That’s why we have to charge you for some of it, and make sure you don’t use too much. But don’t worry, I sent my top trade representative Uncle Billy over to China to get a payday loan for the rest.

WOMAN #5
But won’t we have to pay them back?

GEORGE BAILEY
Well, Marge, yeah, technically, but only until you’re all dead. After that it’ll just be your kids.

MAN #4
Stop your malarkey, Bailey! Keep your ridiculous health care bill. We want our money back!

CROWD
Yeah! Give it back!

GEORGE BAILEY
Now now now, Clem, let’s take it easy there. Sure it’s your money. And yours, Violet. And yours too, Reverend Larson. It’s everybody’s money, and belongs to everybody. Especially me because I’m a Senator. We need that money to make the deals to make the legislation to make sure you get the things you want. Now if you’ll all be patient, I’m sure that Uncle Billy will be getting back from Peking any time now…

MAN #1
I’ve heard enough of this! Let’s get ‘em!

CROWD
Yeah!

MAN #2
Tar’s ready!

GEORGE BAILEY
Gulp!

George runs flailing through the snowy streets of Bedford Falls, the torch-weilding mob in hot pursuit
*************
Scene 15: A bridge outside Bedford Falls. George, breathless, peers dead-eyed into the icy river 100 feet below.

GEORGE BAILEY
I… I wish I was never elected!

George swings his leg over the side of the bridge, but he is tackled by a kindly old stranger

CLARENCE
Phew, that was a close one, George. I thought for sure you were a goner!

GEORGE BAILEY
Who… who are you? How did you know my name?

CLARENCE
Well that’s a mighty interesting question, Senator Bailey. I guess you could say… well, let’s say I’m sort of your protector. Clarence is the name. Clarence Odbody.

GEORGE BAILEY
You mean some kind of guardian angel? From heaven?

CLARENCE
Yessir, straight from lobbyist row on K Street. But I’m not an official angel as yet. Before I can earn my wings I have to stop you from this fool idea of yours. Honestly, George — political suicide? It’s just plain sinful.

GEORGE BAILEY
Did you see that crowd? Have you seen my approval ratings? This town would have been better off if I had never been elected.

CLARENCE
Stop saying such a thing! Do you really feel that way George?

GEORGE BAILEY
I, I, I, I… yeah! Well, see, yeah! See.

CLARENCE
Alright George, I’ll grant you your wish. But you may not like what you see.

swirling screen, blaring staccato strings

GEORGE BAILEY
Where, uh, where are we Clarence?

CLARENCE
Don’t you recognize it, George? It’s Bedford Falls.

GEORGE BAILEY
But but, now see, it doesn’t look anything like Bedford Falls…

CLARENCE
Of course not George. Don’t you remember I granted your wish? This is Bedford Falls… except you’ve never been elected. Let’s see what’s happening over at the High School.

George and Clarence try to enter the gymnasium.

GEORGE BAILEY
Hey, it’s locked!

CLARENCE
That’s right George. Because you weren’t around to pass your midnight basketball bill, all the kids are down at the malt shop and the library.

GEORGE BAILEY
But what about the retractable floor?

CLARENCE
It isn’t there George. Because you weren’t there to insert that earmark. And that means more than 20 men from the Retractable Basketball Floor Workers Union couldn’t contribute to your re-election fund.

GEORGE BAILEY
You’re lying!

CLARENCE
I’m afraid not George. Let’s walk downtown.

George and Clarence walk down the snowy sidewalks of Bedford Falls

GEORGE BAILEY
There’s something strange Clarence… where are all the potholes?

CLARENCE
Potholes? Without your Stimulus Bill, Bedford Falls ended up hiring their own non-union pavement contractor.

GEORGE BAILEY
I think I need a drink.

CLARENCE
Whatever you say, George. Let’s pop into Joe’s Tavern.

GEORGE BAILEY
Hey, what happened to my Smoke Free Tavern Act? Why… why.. It’s Ed! Ed Flenderson! President of the Retractable Basketball Floor Workers Union! Ed, it’s me, George! Senator George Bailey! Don’t you know me Ed? Can I count on your support for the next campaign contribution cycle?

ED FLENDERSON
Get away from me you, crazy wino! The Potter Basketball Floor Plant closed down years ago.

GEORGE BAILEY
But Ed, that means you’re out of a job…

ED FLENDERSON
What are you, nuts? After I left that dead-end job I started my own business. FlenderCo, the third biggest snow removal company in Bedford Falls. I’m my own boss, make more money, and no more splinters.

JOE THE BARTENDER
Hey, scram, you crazy hobo! Stop bothering my customers!

George and Clarence cross the street to the Malt Shoppe. George peers through the foggy glass to see teenagers reveling.

GEORGE BAILEY
There’s something familiar about that soda jerk… yeah… why that’s Tommy O’Reilly! But he was… he was…

CLARENCE
…decapitated by the retractable basketball court at prom? I’m afraid not, George. Tommy and those eight other casualties are in there right now, Lindy Hopping.

GEORGE BAILEY
But what about that big class action suit?

CLARENCE
It never happened, George. And your friends at the Bedford Falls Trial Lawyers Association never got their contingency fees.

GEORGE BAILEY
And I never got their contribution bundle?

CLARENCE
No George. Why would you? After all, you’re not a Senator.

GEORGE BAILEY
I… I… I…

CLARENCE
It’s time to move on George. Let’s go over to the Bedford Falls Police Station.

At the booking desk

GEORGE BAILEY
What are we doing here Clarence?

CLARENCE
Just wait George. You’ll see.

Two cops roll in an old man in a wheelchair, wearing a dress

MR. POTTER
Let me go! I know my rights!

COP #1
Caught him red handed, Sarge. He was trying to book a flight to Rio at the Bedford Falls Municipal Airport.

DESK SERGEANT
Good job boys! Well, well, well. if it isn’t Mr. Potter. 31 counts of illegal mortgage lending, 8 counts of embezzelment, and 28 counts of investment fraud in that retractable basketball court Ponzi scheme. Looks like you’ll be spending the holidays upstate at the Big House.

GEORGE BAILEY
Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!

CLARENCE
Save it George. He doesn’t know you. You were never Senator, remember? You never got to use Mr. Potter as a villain in your campaign ads, he never bought you that secret vacation condo in St. Martins, and you never passed that $12 billion emergency stimulus supplement to bail him out.

MR. POTTER
Do I know you, young man?

GEORGE BAILEY
Well, yes… I, I mean no…

MR. POTTER
Say, do you think you could lend an old man $300 for bail? It is Christmas after all.

GEORGE BAILEY (rummaging through pocket)
Well, sure Mr. Potter, you’ve always helped me when I got in a jam. Let me see what I have in my emergency legal defense fund… what the heck?! Noooo!

DESK SERGEANT
Hey pal, get the heck out of here before I bust you for loitering. G’wan, beat it!

George and Clarence walk by empty welfare centers and boarded-up ACORN offices

CLARENCE
You see George, Bedford Falls is a mighty different place without you in Washington.

GEORGE BAILEY
I guess what they say is right – one man can make a difference. Clarence, but what about the heath care bill? The health care bill, Clarence!

CLARENCE
You weren’t there to vote for cloture, George. It died in committee. America never got its healthcare bill, and Bedford Falls never got that Federal Snow Museum.

GEORGE BAILEY
Take me to Doc Bradford’s medical clinic Clarence! I wanna see what happened!

CLARENCE
But George, I don’t think you’ll want to see it, it’s just…

GEORGE BAILEY
Take me there Clarence! Take me, darn it! I wanna see it, see?

CLARENCE
Sigh. Alright, as you wish.

Inside Doc Bradford’s clinic

DOC BRADFORD
That was quite a nasty spill you took on the ice, Mrs. Foster. I’m scheduling you for an artificial hip replacement Tuesday. In the meantime, stay off your feet and fill this prescription for pain relievers.

GEORGE BAILEY
Just like that? What about getting approval from the hip procedure rationing board?

CLARENCE
There is no rationing board, George. It’s completely up to Doc and Mrs. Foster.

MRS. FOSTER
Oh, bother. How much is this going to cost me?

DOC BRADFORD
Medicare will pick up most of it, but looks like you’ll have a $200 deductible.

MRS. FOSTER
Well I guess I always can skip my AARP dues.

GEORGE BAILEY
Noooooo! Hey… now, now, now, who who’s that woman over there? Why that’s… that’s…

CLARENCE
Yes, George. It’s Mary. Your Mary.

DOC BRADFORD
Mary? Mary Hatch? Your prescription is ready.

GEORGE BAILEY
Mary ‘Hatch’? Why, why, that’s Mary’s maiden name! You mean she never…

CLARENCE
No, George, she never married. Because you never became Senator, you never met her through that escort service. Mary remained here in Bedford Falls working as a simple call girl, and now she has to pay for her chlamydia drugs from her own pocket.

DOC BRADFORD
Alright Mary, I’ll renew this one more time. But I’m warning you, this is the strongest antibiotic I can find.

MARY
Can you break a $100 bill?

GEORGE BAILEY
Mary! Mary! It’s me, George! Oh, Mary, don’t you know me? Speak to me Mary!

MARY
Hey, get your hands off me you creep! I charge a sawbuck for that kind of weirdo stuff.

CLARENCE
Come on George, it’s time to leave. We have to get back to the bridge by midnight.

GEORGE BAILEY
But.. but.. I I don’t want to do it, Clarence! I want to live! I want to live, in Washington! I want to legislate! I want to chair committees and live sweet precious life wherever it takes me!

CLARENCE
Are you sure George? But what about your approval ratings?

GEORGE BAILEY
It’ll all work out, I just know it! I’ll hire the best media consultants in DC. The voters will forget all about it by November, just you see!

CLARENCE
But what if you lose?

GEORGE BAILEY
Then I’ll set up my own lobbying firm on K Street! Ten times more money and I still get to write bills! Anything to avoid coming back to this shitty one horse town!

CLARENCE
Splendid, my boy. Absolutely splendid! That’s the true Christmas spirit of the Beltway! Oh George, I think you just may have earned me wings.

swirling screen, blaring staccato strings

**********************
Scene 16: George comes to on the icy bridge.

GEORGE BAILEY
Clarence? Clarence? Where am I? I think I better pinch myself… well how about that! I I I’m alive! I’m a Senator, I tell you! United States Senator from Bedford Falls George S. Bailey! You did it Clarence! You did it, you old lobbyist! Woo hoo!

George runs back into town, giddily skipping up the steps of the town hall, where he is spotted by the angry torch waving mob.

MAN #1
There he is! Let’s get him!

MAN #2
Hurry, the tar is getting cold!

Inside Bedford Fall Town Hall

MAN #3
Alright Bailey, say your prayers.

GEORGE BAILEY
Now, now Pete, put down that pitchfork. Let me tell you about the new agriculture appropriations bill I’m co-sponsoring.

MARY (entering the hall with their 3 children)
George? Are you alright? I’ve been worried sick about you.

BAILEY KIDS
Daddy!

GEORGE BAILEY
Oh Mary! You know me! You know me!

MARY
Well, of course I do, George. You’re my husband, and I’m your trophy wife.

GEORGE BAILEY
And your chlamydia is mostly cleared up!

MAN #3
Very touching Bailey. Now hand back our money nice and slow, or we start the tarring.

GEORGE BAILEY
Now now now now, just wait there, see. You need to be patient…

WESTERN UNION BOY
Telegram! Telegram for Senator George Bailey from Uncle Billy!

MARY
Well what is it? What does it say? Hush, everyone!

WESTERN UNION BOY
I have made success, stop. Pawned Hawaii to Chinese $1 trillion, stop. Rest of money can be printed at US Mint, stop. Health care is saved, stop. Merry Christmas Uncle Billy.

GEORGE BAILEY
Did you hear that folks? We’re saved! Free healthcare for everybody! Merry Christmas!

CROWD
Hooray! Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and ne’er brought to mind…

GEORGE BAILEY
Re-elect Bailey in ‘48!

LITTLE ZUZU BAILEY
Do you hear that Daddy? It’s bells ringing.

GEORGE BAILEY
By golly you’re right, sweetie. It is bells.

LITTLE ZUZU BAILEY
Teacher says that everytime a bell rings, a Washington angel gets his wings.

GEORGE BAILEY
That’s right, that’s right.

LITTLE ZUZU BAILEY
And everytime a Washington angel gets his wings, the national debt goes up one kazillion dollars.

GEORGE BAILEY
Attaboy Clarence.

CROWD
…should auld acquaintance be forgot, in days of auld lang syne…

Fade out, credits

by Carbie the Climate Clown

Emmett K. Bozo Distinguished Professor of Climate Pantomimology, University of East Anglia
EU Regional President, Union of Concerned Climate Scientists and Street Performers

The scientific evidence is everywhere we look — in our vanishing polar ice caps, in our melting greasepaint, in the way our lapel flowers struggle to squirt. Man-made climate change is upon us, and if we do not act at once Earth itself faces an immediate catastrophic ecological pie in the face.

As provost of the University of East Anglia’s cutting edge Centre for Climate Pantomimology, I work closely with multidisciplinary climate scientists, both within the University and in the clown science community at large. There can be no disputing the peer reviewed models that show the Earth’s temperature curving ever upwards, like the expanding tail of a tube balloon, propelled by mankind’s relentless exhalation of carbon dioxide. If we are to avoid the coming explosion, we must tie off the end of the balloon as soon as possible. Then we must carefully shepherd and shape the balloon as nature intended, perhaps as one of nature’s majestic balloon poodles.

Among climate clowns, scientific consensus

To underscore the seriousness of this global threat, the UCCSSP convened an emergency academic symposium in Copenhagen this week to present our latest peer reviewed findings in support of the COP15 climate accords. Dr. Jingles Hansen of the US Goddard Institute for Space Science gave the plenary address, further documenting climate change by pulling a shocking unbroken string of temperature station windsocks from his sleeve. He was followed by Professor Pif-Pif of the Brussels Institute of Geophysical Mime Modeling, who demonstrated how rising temperatures will leave man in an invisible box, struggling in vain against growing surface convection winds.
In light of these findings, the UCCSSP delegates passed a multipoint draft resolution calling for immediate action on clown-driven climate justice and sustainability. Protocols include:

• By 2011, a mandatory 50% increase in minimum clown carpooling passenger loads.
• Immediate reductions in wasteful shoe sizes.
• Immediate replacement of carbonated seltzer water in all spritz bottles with recycled urine.
• By 2013, an 80% increase in target levels for clown child abductions and murder.
• A 300% increase in UN clown research funding, including first class upgrades on all junkets to international clown meetings.
• Violent lunatic street rioting.

These conclusions were not only endorsed by the scientific and clown communities, but by a broad cross-section of experts across scholarly disciplines. Among these included the Association of People Dressed Up Like Polar Bears, The Organization of Hysterically Weeping Science Journalists, the EU Centre for Scientific Self-Immolation, Monarchs and Despots United for Scientific Gaia Worship, Ed Begley Jr., and the prestigious International Society of Scientists With Intense Daddy Issues. All of whom, I might add, have a minimum of 15 years in graduate school.

Science and self-immolators agree: it’s getting hot

Despite such an overwhelming scientific consensus, enacting climate change regulations has proven difficult. On one side you will find the rational voices of the peer reviewed experts: scientists, scholars, clowns, lachrymose journalists, beloved dictators, former sitcom stars, rioting Marxists in polar bear costumes who start themselves on fire. On the other side are the anti-science denialists, funded by a secret cabal of economic interests.

Unfortunately, some members of the public have been duped by so-called “skepticlowns” like Shotgun and Spanky. They have cynically sought to shut down clown science by demanding that I reveal to them my raw climate data, when they damn well know doing so would violate the Sacred Science Law of the Clowns. Do not be deceived. Shotgun and Spanky have never worked in either a tenure track university or circus, and therefore do not have proper clown credentials. They are merely rodeo clowns, mercenaries for beef industry plutocrats like Ronald McDonald who are desperate to avoid restrictions on their precious methane.

I am confident, however, that this misconception will be corrected once the public has the real facts. I am now collaborating with Nobel Prize medalist Al Gore on a new 50 city three-ring awareness tour to assure the public that the miming is settled. Get your tickets online before December 31st and you’re automatically registered for a free carbon credit gift pack from Goreco!

And if that still

Our very planet depends on them. Yet they remain nature’s most elusive scientific species, inhabiting some of the world’s most delicate and daunting academic environments. But thanks to new breakthroughs in high speed cameras and email files, metascientists are finally beginning to understand their mysterious behaviors and complex social interactions. Tonight on Iowahawk Geographic: step inside the Secret Life of the Climate Researchers.

French Horn Fanfare Theme

Fast-cut montage of walrus mating with polar bear, astronomer peering through telescope into neighbor’s window, cheetahs chasing penguins on the Serengeti, scientists filling out NSF grant proposals

Dah dat dat DAAAH dat, dah daht duh dah dee-dah dee dah-dah!

Narrator

This is the University of East Anglia in the United Kingdom, home of one of the largest nesting populations of climate scientists in Europe.

Gentle ant’s-eye scene of idyllic campus lawn, strewn about with drunken mating undergraduates

Each year it attracts magnificent migratory flocks of graduate students, adjuncts and visiting faculty from across the northern hemisphere.

Shots of jumbo jets landing at Heathrow; herds of climate researchers busily milling at Duty Free shops, retrieving baggage, phoning for prearranged limo service

Within minutes of arriving on campus, the migratory researchers approach the entrance of the Climate Research Unit and perform the secret credential dance, fiercely displaying their prominent curriculum vitae. This signals to the security drone that they can be trusted with the sacred electronic lanyard badge that will grant them entrance to the hive’s inner sanctum.  

During the upcoming research season, this hive alone will produce over 6 million metric tons of grant-sustaining climate data guano, but until recently little was known about the elusive genus of homo scientifica living inside. Where do they come from? What strange force draws them here year after year? In order to unravel the mystery, Iowahawk Geographic documentary filmmaker David Burge undertook a painstaking one-week project to finally capture the climate researchers in their native habitat.

In this exclusive footage, Burge warily approaches the hive’s security drone, disguising himself as smelly graduate student. Burge has theorized that as a member of the lowest stratum in the hive’s social system, the drone likely enjoys partying. He reaches into his backpack and offers the drone a pint of Guinness and a small bag of weed in exchange for the hive’s internal security tapes and email files. Success.

The never-before seen security tapes obtained by Burge provide a rare glimpse into the inner working of the climate research hive and its amazing guano production. In this sequence, we see one group of researchers entering the hive each carrying a datum they have retrieved from a distant climate measuring station. This is the cause of much excitement among their colleagues, who buzz around in a grant-writing frenzy.

Infrared heat map film of highly agitated researchers

But there’s a problem: as the worker researchers attempt to store each raw datum into the neat honeycomb hockey stick structure provided by the hive’s Alpha Grantwriter, they discover that few will fit. The infrared shows them growing cool with fear. This signals the climate researcher’s instinctive behavior to begin viciously beating, rolling and normalizing the data into submission. According to Dr. Nigel V.H. Oldham, professor emeritus at Oxford University’s Centre for Metascience, this violent data dance is what makes climate researchers unique among breeds of scientists.

Professor Nigel V.H. Oldham

Like other species in the order homo scientifica, the climate researcher gathers and organizes data to lure grant money to the hive. In contrast to those other species, however, the climate researcher has evolved a set of complex violent behaviors to insure any data leaving the hive is perfectly adapted to nature’s most lucrative and sweetest grants. It really is a marvel of natural selection, and explains why the climate researcher continues to thrive in any kind of weather condition.

Narrator

Many of those behaviors are on display in the security film, as we see a sexless group of drone graduate students processing a raw datum with saliva, sawdust and Fortran code. After each iteration the time series is presented to the Alpha Grantwriter to see if fits inside his graph. Several graduate drones die of exhaustion, but the data eventually fit the template.

Next the Alpha Grantwriter flies to an international climate research conference with the completed PowerPoint template, where he will share his guano with other Alpha Grantwriters over cocktails in the hotel lounge. This is a process metascientists refer to as “peer review.”

Professor Nigel V.H. Oldham

Among climate researchers, peer review seems to serve three purposes. First, it rewards the hives that have the most successful data torturers. Second it singles out mutant hives for elimination. Third, it allows the Alpha Grantwriters to expense drinks.

Narrator

The Alpha Grantwriter in our hive has been very successful indeed. He has earned three publications, a keynote address, and attracts the attention of a suitor from the symbiotic grant-giving predator genus Lucra Ecologica Hysterica. The suitor’s grant bags are bulging with carbon credits and tax revenues harvested using the hive’s last graphs, and the pair once again engage in their annual cross-pollination ritual. They relax with a cigarette, and return to their respective hives: the Grantwriter with fresh money, the Grantgiver to Washington or Brussels with new carbon tax proposals. The circle of life is completed.

But life is not always so easy inside the hive of the climate researcher. Occasionally the sanctity of the hive is breached by a predator from the species Methodica Skeptica Scientifica, who threatens the hive with demands to see their raw data.

security film of ominous skeptic infiltrating the hive

In this rare footage, the invading skeptic is repelled by a swarm of drones before he can reach the entombed data. He makes another attempt, but the Alpha Grantwriter has called in reinforcements from the grantgiver hive and the New York Times.

Climate Researchers

Hissssss hisssssss hisssssssss

Narrator

The ear-piercing screech of the swarm warns the intruder that they will cut off his peer review unless he retreats.  But the the hungry skeptic is not so easily dissuaded, and returns to the hive with a Freedom of Information Act form demanding a copy of the hive’s raw data.

This sends the climate researcher drones into a wild frenzy as they scramble to find and conceal the scent of the preprocessed data. To bide time the Alpha Grantwriter offers the skeptic a copy of the hockey stick graph. The skeptic threatens a lawsuit with his stinger. Thinking quickly, the Alpha Grantwriter performs an elaborate dance, communicating that the original data has been eaten, possibly by graduate drone. He presents the skeptic with the dead bodies of 10 drones as a peace offering.

Finally stymied in his efforts to reach the data, the skeptic flies away. The hive lives on.

Professor Nigel V.H. Oldham

The climate researcher is in some sense a milestone in evolutionary biology. Ever since Darwin, we have understood that a particular species adapts to its environmental reality. Now for the first time, we are seeing evidence that environmental reality is adapting to a particular species. It’s not really rocket science. Well okay, I suppose it’s really not science at all.

Narrator

Join us next time on Iowahawk Geographic, when we go in search of the outer limits of the economic galaxy with “Stimulus-X: The Black Hole of the Beltway.”

INEVITABLY, ANOTHER SOLDIER SNAPS

Distraught pacifist conscientious objector tormented by horrors of war, as far as you know

Newsroom experts: stress, violence, stupidity, tragedy a way of life for GIs

Former M*A*S*H stars say it’s finally time to disarm the military

Hollywood insiders: Sean Penn early favorite for lead in planned Oliver Stone biopic

Nidal Hassan – not a fan of taxes Fort Hood: Another Black Eye For Teabagger Movement Connecting the dots: 2006-8 Tax returns show anti-government extremist carefully itemized deductions Like many Town Hall protesters, Hassan motivated by rage, pattern baldness Phone records: suspect tried to join Hair Club for Men Tearful Pelosi pushes Congress for new Tea Party regulations: “our lives are at stake”

Closet Dittohead? Investigation: Ft. Hood Killer Had Access to Fox, Talk Radio, Right-Wing Blogs Receipts show killer’s apartment had cable ‘03 Nissan registered to Hassan had AM radio Napolitano: “I told you so” Sources: Despite 17 citations as Countdown’s ‘Worst Person In The World,’ FBI failed to detain Limbaugh Defiant Palin rejects calls to apologize

Hassan: NRA poster boy GUN GOES ON RAMPAGE IN TEXAS Experts say shootings could have easily been prevented if guns did not exist; others argue bullets must share blame Gun facts: scary, loud, shoot people

Reverend Nidal Hassan say Gimme that Old Time Religion Fundamentalist Religion Seen As Motive in Ft. Hood Massacre Devout churchgoer evangelized conservative views Shooter’s former Virginia home was mere hours from Jerry Falwell compound What did Tilton, Swaggert, Osteen know?

Billy Ray Hassan – average American Southerner Another Typical Day in Dixieland U.S.A. In the land of cotton, some hear echoes of Civil War in latest violent redneck rampage American-born killer was son of the Jim Crow South NASCAR may have been involved Britons warned: limit U.S. travel to safe areas such as New York, Chicago, Los Angeles

Hassan: owned GameStop member card Did Violent Video Games, Rap Lyrics Drive Killing Spree? Video: Grand Theft Auto, Super Mario Cart remain on shelf at Fort Hood PX Lil’ Wayne goes One-on-One with Wolf Blitzer Larry King Live Special tragedy coverage with panelists Nancy Grace, David Hasselhoff, Joan Collins

Tailgater of Terror Caught in the Middle of an NFC East Rivalry Sports psychologists: strain of being a Redskins fan in Cowboy country may have led to breakdown for former DC resident Jurgenson, Staubach team up for NFL sportsmanship pitch Skins fans fear backlash Special “Outside the Lines” interview with NFL Commissioner Goodell: “this is precisely why we banned Limbaugh”

Nidal “Ozriel” Hassan: tormented by popular kids ‘Ozriel’: Portrait of a Bullies’ Target Another Columbine? Sensitive, artistic outsider said ostracized by Army jocks, “in crowd” Found solace in poetry, music, MySpace Weekend “EmoAid” benefit concert to raise awareness about at-risk youth, reunite CSN&Y

Junk food junkie? Twinkies Claim Another 13 Victims Hostess corporate spokesman defends controversial creme-filled sponge cake, but mounting scientific evidence links mass murder to unregulated transfats Witness: Hassan yelled “I want a candy bar” during spree Kraft, Kelloggs, Hersheys bracing for lawsuits Are you raising a potential Cereal Killer? Nutritionists show you how to cut your kids’ sugar intake to prevent another bloodbath

No Country For Old Men From Fort Hood to Waco to Dealey Plaza to Bush Compound, death is a way of life in the Lone Star State Statistic: Texas still lags in access to public broadcasting Download Morning Edition’s exclusive in-depth podcast, complete with mournful banjo dirge interlude

Lessons of Ft. Hood: Military Bases Need More Mental Health Professionals

Dear   BARACK OBAMA  :

Congratulations! On behalf of the selection committee, I am pleased to announce that you have been named a 2009 recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, in recognition of your tireless efforts to   STRENGTHEN INTERNATIONAL DIPLOMACY AND COOPERATION    .

I am also pleased to tell you that as a winner, you have been pre-approved for membership in the Nobel Peace Player’s Club, offering exclusive money-saving benefits available only to laureates like you. Please take a few minutes to look over the enclosed enrollment materials. At only $299.95 per year, I’m sure you’ll agree that membership is a bargain at twice the price! Here are just some of the benefits you’ll receive:

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• Great travel packages to the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro
• Listing in “Who’s Who of Global Salvation” ($49.95 per copy)
• Great coupons for Olive Garden, P.F. Chang’s, Six Flags Theme Parks, and more!

Plus, you’ll receive the exclusive Nobel Peace Player’s Club GoldCard entitling you to discount air travel and 5-star hotel accommodations from Kyoto to Darfur. But don’t take our word for it! Listen to these testimonials from some of our current members:

“My career as an international peace activist means lots of air travel — and dealing with pushy Zionists and rude natives. With my Nobel Peace Player’s Club GoldCard, I finally get the respect I deserve – and it makes getting through Gaza airport security a snap!”
– Jimmy Carter, 2002 Laureate

“Whether we’re patrolling the Congo, Sudan, or Bosnia, one thing’s for sure — chicks can’t resist a Nobel Peace Prize Player!”
– United Nations Peacekeeping Forces, 1988 Winners

“My Players Club GoldCard lets me treat my friends and family to great perks.”
– Kofi Annan, 2001 Laureate

“I’m a take-action kind of guy. Whenever I fly to Tehran or Pyongyang, the first thing I pack is my Players GoldCard.”
– Mohamed ElBaradei (2005)

“I have to write a lot of honorary doctorate acceptance speeches, and writer’s block can be a problem. With the Player’s GoldCard I got great discounts at TermPapersLab.com!”
– Rigoberta Menchu (1992)

“The Player’s Club GoldCard is recognized everywhere — even in hell! I redeemed my Players GoldPoints at Club Satan for an exciting eternity of getting pounded up the ass. Thanks, NobelCo!”
– Yasser Arafat (1994)

“Don’t miss the boat like I did, comrade! I forgot to enroll, and now I’m spending eternity pounding Yasser Arafat up the ass.”
– Le Duc Tho (1973)

So what are you waiting for,    BARACK OBAMA  ? Enroll today and start enjoying the privileges of membership. Enroll today, and we’ll throw in a deluxe leather bound CIA intelligence report worth $1000!

Sincerely,

Ůmläut Ťïldëqvist, Chairman
The Nobel Peace Player’s Club Selection Committee

As a renowned collector of dumpster art and pork industry commemorative plates, I made a solemn vow to myself: this injustice will not stand. If these radicals are allowed to bring down the NEA’s Assistant Liaison for Art Community Outreach — for merely organizing an innocent devotional art program — who is next on their dangerous anti-culture agenda? The NEA Undersecretary for Public Engagement? Western Civilization itself?

No, my friends, the stakes are too high. We in the Arts community must confront these vulgarian bullies and let them know that ART WILL NOT BE SILENCED. To show my personal commitment to this important cause, last night I dug deep into my kid’s sock drawer and found $33.18, which I am now fully dedicating to an endowment to fund creative art aimed at promoting me and my agenda. 

David Burge (2009): Still Life With Dumpster Paintings, Schlitz, and Grant Money. 

As a member of the trend-setting art community, you are probably asking yourself: how do I get me that sweet-ass grant money? The answer is simple — submit your original creative work in the Iowahawk Endowment for the Art’s $33.18 Steel Cage Art Death Match.

GRANT CONTEST RULES

Like the NEA, I’m not picky about what constitutes art. Use your creativity! Paintings, poetry, outhouse graffiti, sea shanties, macaroni arrangements, mime, interpretive dance, drum circles, chanting choirs of third graders, it’s all cool. The only guideline is that your art must promote unswerving blind allegiance to me, and all that I represent.

Once you have completed your masterpiece, submit the relevant picture or video via email (along with your description) with the subject line “Art Contest.” All entries will be feature it on an upcoming post, where they will be closely scrutinized for artistic merit by multi-hundreds of discerning Iowahawk readers around the galaxy.

Don’t delay! Deadline for entries is Sunday October 4. On Monday October 5, I will post a poll for readers to vote on their favorite piece. Voting ends Friday October 9, and the winner will receive the coveted $33.18 Grand Prize.

Good luck to everyone! But let’s remember that, no matter the outcome, the real winner in this competition will be America. Especially my kid, when he realizes that the 33 bucks he was going to waste on a stupid Xbox game helped save our culture.

Ladies and Gentlemen, start your easels!

It’s true — U.S. government demand for art and art-like products has never been higher! Uncle Sam and the good folks at the National Endowment for the Arts are on the lookout for go-getting, obedient artists like you for a fast-paced career in state propaganda. With the quick and easy Federal Art Instruction Institute course, now you too can get a first class ticket on the federal art gravy train!

Tell Me More!

From heath care to the economy to the environment, Washington has become infested with pesky state enemies who are clogging up the legislative pipeline and making life miserable for our cool, art-loving president. That’s why he has ordered the NEA to fund obsequious bohemians to help him exterminate the competition and drive traffic to his hip new website Servile.gov. The Federal Art Instruction Institute will show you how to get off funemployment and on the payroll of this exciting $3.6 trillion growth industry!

How can the Federal Art Instruction Institute help me?

Unlike traditional art schools, the Federal Art Instruction Institute doesn’t waste your time on boring Post-Modernist theory, messy bodily fluids, or painful self mutilation. With our easy-to-learn program you will quickly learn how to channel your natural artistic ability and suburban self-loathing at state enemies who, when you think about it, are a lot like your parents.

Can you draw triangles? The Federal Art Instruction Institute will show you the easy way to turn them into Ku Klux Klan hoods. Turn them upside down and they become scary vampire fangs! Even a simple black rectangle can become a Hitler mustache with our easy to learn methods.

Our award winning studio instructors includes some of the top young professional kowtowers, bumnuzzlers and bootlicks working in the government art field today — people like Buffy Wicks, Yosi Sergant and Michael Skolnik. They will keep you up to date on all the hot new policy trends and enemy lists, and what your patrons at the NEA need you to do about it. Using tried and true traditional art techniques from Cuba, Germany and central Asia, they will teach you how to pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it — for big cash prizes!   

I’m skeptical. Do you have previous success stories?

And how! Just read these testimonials from FAII graduates:

“I made over $1 million in my first year, and all I had to do was obey! Thanks, Federal Art Instruction Institute!”
– S. Fairey, Los Angeles, Calif.

“As a cutting edge visual artist, I had a natural aptitude for political servility and blind hatred. The Federal Art Instruction Institute showed me how to turn it into a solid government career with great benefits!”
– J. Greenberg, New York, N.Y.

“The Federal Art Instruction Institute showed us how to win big government contracts for our failing business. This program was a lifesaver!”
–The two hipster assholes from SaraPalinIsAC**tTShirts.com

But I can’t draw. Can I still take advantage of this exciting program?

No problem! Thanks to new NEA guidelines, anybody can be an artist! Are you a musician? filmmaker? Web designer? Guerrilla marketer? Graffiti tagger? HopCore ElectroChill DJ? Freelance vandal? Whatever your mode of expressive behavior the NEA has a sweet load of grant money waiting — and qualifying has never been easier!  Do you have –

• an ironic trucker hat?
• ironic facial hair?
• ironic douchebag glasses?
• a vocabulary that includes “bringing utilities” and “mindspace”?
• deep insecurities about your place in the art world hipster food chain?
• a slavish desire to do the bidding of your government?
• no idea what “ironic” really means?

Can you –

• Follow orders?
• Take a hint?
• Maintain plausible deniability?
• Keep your mouth shut?

Then you just might qualify as a student in one of FAII’s prestigious secret conference call classrooms! 

Sounds too good to be true! What’s the catch?

No catch, but enrollment is limited. So don’t delay, write today for your free talent and obedience test and see if you have what it takes to be a professional in the new art capital of the world — Washington, D.C.!

Remember — The U.S. Art-my Wants You!