Hairy monsters and slimy sea serpents. Men like them. Women don't. At least, that's how it seems on the surface. We'll be looking at this divisive subject tonight with a few guests who can help us see the other side of it. The first one is nothing short of a local phenomenon. Let's have a nice big hand for Bigfoot!
(Applause. Enter Bigfoot, smiling and waving. I stand and clap as he comes over to sit in the guest chair.)
Me: People may have the wrong idea about you from your media image.
Bigfoot: What do they say about me?
Me: That you are a marauding primate.
Bigfoot: I don't get it. Take a look at any picture of me. Am I not always alone? Am I not always minding my own business? I think the media's just stirring up another fear frenzy.
Me: But you scare people when you walk around.
Bigfoot: I can't help that. I don't have a car.
Me: Do you have pastimes that keep you out of trouble?
Bigfoot: I do. I like building model airplanes. And I like barefoot skiing and barefoot surfing.
Me: And you say you can't let women get near you because of the pain they cause. I know relationships can be hard, but you have to move on.
Bigfoot: No, not that kind of pain. I mean from bullet wounds. Like the one I took to my ankle the other day. And another one grazed my cheek not too long ago. Got to keep em at a distance, you know, when they're armed.
Me: Oh. Do they shoot at you more then the men?
Bigfoot: Oh yeah. The men might shoot once or twice, but they let me go if I'm running for my life. The women always want to keep on shooting. They don't like to see me moving around at all.
Me: Well hopefully some women will now see that you're just a bit gun-shy and this thing in the press is all a misunderstanding. Bigfoot, folks! (Applause.) Single and available to all the pretty ladies!
(Commercial.)
(The guest chair is open as Bigfoot sits on the couch.)
Me: We move our focus now to an Asian mountain range where the tales of my next guest have become as familiar as their complimentary campfires, the Snowman!
(Applause. Enter Snowman. Bigfoot and I stand up and clap. Snowman goes to the guest chair and we all sit.)
Me: Trigger-happy women. Is this a problem for hairy monsters?
Snowman: Not for me. We don't have guns in my region.
Me: Why not?
Snowman: Because of all the snowy mountains. A gunshot can cause an avalanche.
Me: Lucky for you.
Snowman: Yes. We have more respect for life because the slightest vibration can kill us all.
Me: Still, they must aim something at you.
Snowman: Arrows, harpoons, blow-gun darts, lasers. You know, the quieter projectiles.
Me: I thought so. The men - or?
Snowman: The women. The men hunt for food, but the women seem to want to gentrify the wildlife or something. They don't even like to see me doing my laundry outdoors.
Me: Have you ever been wounded by a woman?
Snowman: I took a spear to my shin last week. It hurt like hell. I cried out in pain, but that just made her laugh harder at me.
Me: Well you know what? Maybe they can laugh at you for being a hideous abomination, but they didn't have what it takes to be featured on this freak show.
Snowman: Thanks, Dave.
Me: The Snowman, everyone!
(Commercial.)
(The guest chair is open as Bigfoot and Snowman share the couch.)
Me: My final guest has been playing havoc with small fishing boats and making liars out of drunken shepherds for centuries now. Here it is, the Lochness Monster!
(Applause. Enter Monster. Greetings.)
Dutchie: Do call me Dutchie.
Me: Dutchie? Certainly. Dutchie, you are said to belong to the prehistoric dinosaur family.
Dutchie: That's right. I'm actually related to the brontosaurus, which liked to keep its feet wet but stayed mostly on land.
Me: And you're supposed to be wise because you've lived for centuries.
Dutchie: Centuries? Where did you get that?
Me: That's how old your legend is.
Dutchie: Do you mean to tell me that you thought it was the same creature you've been seeing ever since the legend started? Why wouldn't we reproduce, like any other species?
Me: Then why are you alone? Were you hurt by a woman in scuba gear?
Dutchie: Not at all. I have no interest in women.
Me: Because you couldn't find the right one?
Dutchie: No. Because I lay eggs. As a matter of fact, I just left some on the couch in the waiting room backstage. I wonder how they're doing.
Bigfoot: Excuse me. Are they light blue with little orange specks on them?
Dutchie: Why yes! Did you check to see if they're warm enough?
Bigfoot: Oh don't worry. I moved them to a place with plenty of body heat.
Dutchie: How very thoughtful! Wait a minute. Did you eat my young? You MONSTER!
(The room shakes as Bigfoot and Dutchie go at it. Snowman retreats offstage.)
Me: Well folks, that's all the time we have. But I hope it's left us with something to think about as we head off for another weekend - possibly on a hunting trip. Remember. Monsters are people, too.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: Work-Mate Brand Worker Replicants
(A man sits at his desk with nothing to do.)
Announcer: Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to fill in for you at work once in a while? Maybe it's time you learned how stunning advances in the science of D.N.A. manipulation can work for you with the revolutionary new Work-Mate.
(The doorbell rings in the man's home. He answers the door, signs for the giant package, and leaves the exhausted delivery men untipped.)
Announcer: Send us a sample of your DNA, along with a certified cheque or money order for eight thousand dollars, and we'll ship you your very own Work-Mate. Operated by remote control, it looks like you, talks like you, and can be programmed with up to three of your favourite one-liners.
(The Work-Mate sits at the man's desk with nothing to do. It is visible to outside workers through the window.)
Worker #1: That's not him.
Worker #2: What do you mean?
Worker #1: There's just something strange about him.
Announcer: The Work-Mate even knows how to use a washroom.
(The Work-Mate gets up from the desk and walks past the workers.)
Worker #2: Where's he going?
Worker #1: To the washroom.
Worker #2: I told you it was him.
Worker #1: I guess I was wrong.
(Crammed into a nearby closet, the product user shines a flashlight at the instructions booklet and nervously handles the remote control.)
Announcer: Let your fingers do the working with a Work-Mate brand worker replicant! Time's a-wasting!
Me: In the drive to provide honest citizens with a better justice system, new methods of apprehending criminals are constantly being developed. My guests tonight are all leading law enforcement pioneers. The first one is an expert in the dynamic field of forensic art, Detective Warren Hogarth!
(Applause. Enter Hogarth. I rise to my feet and applaud but stay behind my desk. We shake hands when he reaches centre stage and we take our seats.
Me: So you know all about a person just by looking at their art?
Hogarth: That's my job.
Me: What do you make of this? (I pull out a sheet of paper from a desk drawer and hand it to him with a confident air.)
Hogarth: (after a brief examination) Classic arrested personality disorder.
Me: (worried) Arrested? What do you mean?
Hogarth: There's a level of sophistication in the technique, but the subject matter is hopelessly juvenile.
Me: What, you don't like Snoopy? (I take back the drawing and put it back in the drawer.)
Hogarth: Oh. Is that who it was? I thought it was a badly drawn naked woman.
Me: (smiling to camera) Time for a commercial!
Hogarth: Who drew it?
Me: Couldn't tell you. Found it in the lunch room! (to camera) And now a word from our sponsors.
Hogarth: Can I see it again? Whoever drew it may have to be hauled in for questioning. That mind is deeply disturbed.
Me: (to camera) Will you go to a commercial, for crying out loud?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: Equine Velvet Aftershave
(Rancher Jimmy grooms himself in the stable as he chats with a horse.)
Horse: Are you going steady with Mary Jane now?
Jimmy: As a matter of fact, she's meeting me here and I'm taking her to the movies.
Horse: Well if you're feeling so good, why don't you let me have a splash of that aftershave?
Jimmy: You mean my Equine Velvet? Hell, why not?
(He douses the animal.)
Horse: Well now. That feels real nice.
(Enter Mary Jane.)
Mary Jane: Hi Jimmy!
Jimmy: Hi Mary Jane! Are you all ready for the movie?
Mary Jane: (sniffing her way over to the horse) I don't know. (drawing deeply from the animal's hide) I think maybe I'd rather go horseback riding alone.
Jimmy: Aw! Not again!
Horse: Who's scoring now, hotshot?
Announcer: Equine Velvet. The smell of champion thoroughbreds.
(Mary Jane enjoys a personal adventure on horseback.)
Announcer: Keeping you hot to trot.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Me: As unique as a fingerprint are the squiggles and strokes of a person's handwriting. With us next is a woman who had to learn how to read between these particularly challenging lines, handwriting expert, Doctor Susan Austin!
(Applause. Enter Austin. I get up and shake her hand. Then I hug her.)
Me: So you know all about a person just by looking their handwriting?
Austin: That's what they pay me for.
Me: Well then, what do you make of this? (I produce a page of note paper from the desk drawer and give it to her. She puts on her glasses and starts looking it over.)
Austin: Hm. Tall capital letters indicate rampant narcissism.
Me: Narcissism? That means good in track and field, right?
Austin: No, it means obsessed with one's own beauty. Hm. Yes. And these underlined words indicate egomania.
Me: But without underlines how do you make up for not having italics?
Austin: Crossing two t's with one stroke. Laziness. A shortcut taker.
Me: Is there anything good on there?
Austin: (after making me wait) The way the i's are dotted.
Me: Great! What does it mean?
Austin: That the writer has unreadable palms.
(I lift my hands to inspect them at close range.)
Austin: Aha! This is your hand!
Me: (hands dropping to my desk) What? I was just checking the time. (to camera) And it's time again for a time-out.
(Commercial.)
Me: She's a preeminent zoologist whose research with dogs has been hailed as a breakthrough in both academic and law enforcement circles, Doctor Karen Carruthers!
(Enter Carruthers with her trained dog. I can't resist getting out of my chair to go over to it and pet it. Suddenly it growls and I draw back for an instant.)
Me: (chuckling) That's a fierce sounding growl!
Carruthers: She only makes that sound around an animal hater. I'm not going to find your cat in the freezer, am I?
Me: Don't be silly. (I go back to petting the dog.)
Carruthers: The microwave?
Me: I don't even have a cat.
Carruthers: (muttering to herself) Of course. What do you expect from an animal hater?
Me: What did you say?
Carruthers: Look at that!
Me: What?
Carruthers: See the way she changed her ears when she smelled your hand? She only does that when she senses a danger to children.
Me: (pausing to absorb the insult) How very odd.
Carruthers: She's usually right.
Me: Well she's way off this time.
Carruthers: Look at that!
Me: What is it now?
Carruthers: She's looking at you suspiciously. She only does that when she spots a terrorist. Are you planning to destroy any bridges or railroads?
Me: (to camera) We'll be right back. (to Carruthers) She's looking at me suspiciously? Are you nuts? Are you trying to get me in trouble?
(My guest and I stand over a table covered with gadgets.)
Me: Tonight we'll poke our noses into the world of espionage. With me now is Doctor Albert Quaker from MiG-17 to show us a few tools of the trade.
(Applause.)
Quaker: Q.
Me: What?
Quaker: You can call me 'Q' for short.
Me: Quaker's short enough already, isn't it?
Quaker: No, after the character from the series.
Me: Oh right. That omnipotent dude. I forgot how much you nerds love your sci-fi.
Quaker: No, the other series! About the British agent! Oh, never mind.
Me: No, I'll call you 'Q' if you want.
Quaker: That's not what I meant! Look, can we just talk about the gear?
Me: Certainly. Where shall we begin?
Quaker: Well, this is the best spy camera yet. Fits in your view-finder and has instant playback.
Me: Fits into these binoculars? Isn't that a little conspicuous? (covering my eyes with the view-finder) I get the instant playback, but all I see is a neighbour's back yard with an empty lawn chair.
Quaker: Must be a surveillance tape.
Me: And now there's a young lady coming outside to read in her two-piece bathing suit.
Quaker: I'll take that. (He snatches the gadget away and puts it back on the table.)
Me: I wasn't finished.
Quaker: We've more to look at here. For instance, what do these look like?
Me: Replacement windshield wipers?
Quaker: Precisely, but with a radically new approach to windshield maintenance.
Me: How so?
Quaker: By blowing up everything and starting over.
Me: (after a pause for thought) But if you can get in close enough to rig his car, can't you just take him out anywhere on the spot?
Quaker: Where's the car chase in that? Or the special effects?
Me: I guess you're right. What's this? (I pick up a remote control unit.)
Quaker: Hand that to me please. (I pass it to him.)
Me: What is it?
Quaker: It's a very powerful mind-ray.
Me: Get outta here!
Quaker: Don't believe me? (He aims the device and zaps me. I enter into a trance.) What if I told you you were wrong to doubt me? Would you nod your head in agreement?
(He pushes another button and I nod my head in robot-like compliance.)
Quaker: And if I said you were stupid to doubt me? Would you nod in agreement?
(My head nods helplessly.)
Quaker: Oh you would? And what if I just said you were stupid? Would you agree with that?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: The Zit Zapper
Announcer: Don't let all the laser surgery go to the doctors. Do it for yourself with the advanced Zit Zapper.
(A youth in pyjamas inspects his face closely in the mirror.)
Announcer: Why wait forever for those blemishes to turn into scars? Take aim and start turning those molehills into craters with the powerful Zit Zapper.
(He holds up the product, smiles, and runs it over his face like an electric razor. Switch to an outdoor shot for the following illustrations.)
Announcer: And the Zit Zapper has so many other uses: spelling in the snow, lighting a cigarette, even setting fire to an ant. Once you have it, you'll wonder how you ever survived without it. Get the modern, fully loaded, indispensable Zit Zapper.
(The youth puts the product in a drawer and slides it shut. His face has the distorted look of wearing a pantyhose mask. He lies down to sleep.)
Announcer: And start making impressions.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Me: My next guest is an intelligence operative who offers living proof that beauty and brains can productively co-exist. Agent Ellen Kelly!
(Applause: Enter Kelly. I greet her with a lengthy hug.)
Me: In your last assignment as a beauty contestant, who were you trying to catch?
Kelly: An electrician.
Me: An electrician? See that's what I don't get. Why didn't you pretend to be an electrician's apprentice? And when you went undercover as an exotic dancer, what was your mission?
Kelly: To stop a mad scientist from starting an earthquake.
Me: Well shouldn't you have brushed up on seismology or something? Maybe tried to get a job in his lab?
Kelly: I did get a job in his lap.
Me: No, his lab! Laboratory.
Kelly: Hey, I was just following orders.
Me: Well I don't know what they were thinking. At least when they had you filling in for that swimsuit model you were trying to catch a stalker.
Kelly: Of course. He was the only one who had the map with the locations of those nuclear missile silos.
(Commercial.)
Me: Spying is a business that runs on information, and trying to get a spy to talk is a tough job. But someone who's been getting it done for no less than the last fifteen years is Mike Lewis!
(Applause. Enter Lewis. I get up and fake a few boxing moves on my way to greet him. We shake hands and go back to our seats.)
Me: Has interrogation changed much over the years?
Lewis: Not for me. I'm traditional.
Me: That's important. We mustn't overlook time-honoured methods.
Lewis: That's exactly what I'm talking about! Time-honoured methods, like keeping them tied to a chair with their hands behind them and their mouth duck-taped until we know who they are.
Me: I guess if it's necessary at first, as long as they're not too uncomfortable.
Lewis: And we shine a stage-light in their face. We put it right up close so when they close their eyes tight, the darkest they can make their vision is orange.
Me: That sounds kind of close, but if it helps him concentrate...
Lewis: Then we roll up their sleeve and jab 'em full of truth serum.
Me: And does that make them want to talk?
Lewis: Not directly.
Me: What do you mean?
Lewis: It makes them more sensitive to pain. Then we start working them over as we ask them questions. And if they answer wrong, we haul off and b-
Me: Now just hold on a minute. Weren't you held captive in a P.O.W. camp?
Lewis: Yeah? So?
Me: So? After going through that, don't you sympathize with your prisoners?
Lewis: Not at all. I figure if it's good enough for me, it's good enough for the next person.
Me: We often hear about the struggles of parents, but seldom do we look at life through the eyes of the parented. Tonight, on location in the castle of Jovial the Giant, we'll be focusing on this small minority. And I found a nice cozy room here that seems to have everything. It has a chair and a sofa and a fireplace. There's a rocking chair for those that like to rock and - (I sit down in the rocking chair when the floor shakes and the light dims as from a great shadow.)
Giant: (with voice coming from above, reverberating with hall echo) Is that you, Dave?
Me: (looking up) Is that you, Jove? So that opening scene on your show with your hands was really to scale. It's Jovial the Giant, everybody!
(Applause. The shadow spreads.)
Me: (looking up) Is that you Jeremiah?
Giraffe:(echoing like the giant) Hi, Dave.
Me: Jeremiah the Giraffe, folks!
(Applause)
Me: Is Chuckles the Chicken with you, too?
Giant: No. He's home with a note from his doctor.
Me: Well it's a good thing or we'd have no light at all. But after decades-long careers as hosts of a popular children's program, how do you stay on top?
Giant: I think it's because of my size. We giants always seem to end up dominating our fields.
Me: I've noticed that. (switching to eye-level) Uh - Is that your cat? She's been fed, right?
(Commercial.)
Me: With us next is a community leader who thinks today's schools are too soft - Councillor Glen Masters!
(Applause. Enter Masters. Greetings. I return to the rocker. Masters takes the guest chair.)
Me: Now, you want to put schoolchildren in uniforms.
Masters: I do.
Me: Why?
Masters: Because uniforms help to discourage self expression.
Me: And you want to abolish recess.
Masters: Yes.
Me: Why?
Masters: Because it just makes students hate the rest of their school day.
Me: And you say we need a return to corporal punishment in our schools.
Masters: Only for the bad children.
Me: Oh? And who might those be?
Masters: You know, the trouble-makers. We could start with the artists. Even if they're not rebelling, we know they want to.
Me: (after struggling to keep my composure) Councillor, behind you you'll find an enormous ball of yarn. It's as big as you are but it's light as a feather. Could you please walk it over to that little house on your way out?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: The Angel of Stealth.
(Two boys fly their kites in a park.)
Boy #1: Whose is that one?
Boy #2: I don't know.
(Show product closing in on the boys' kites.)
Announcer: Rule the skies of your park with the Angel of Stealth.
(Product's guns shoot down one of the boy's kites.)
Boy #1: Did you do that?
Boy #2: I didn't do anything!
(Product's missile scores a hit on the other boy's kite, which tumbles down in flames.)
Announcer: And if someone has something to say about it...
Boy #2: It's all coming from that one!
Boy #1: Look! It's dropping something on us.
Announcer: ...it'll answer back in kind.
(Explosion.)
The Angel of Stealth. At last a kite than do more than just fly.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
(I have the rocking chair. Two boys share the sofa.)
Me: The Vincent brothers have both made the cut for the Olympic marbles team this year. We're pleased to have such world-class competitors with us. Which are you, Trevor or Kirby?
T. Vincent: I'm Trevor.
Me: Right.
T. Vincent: Kirby looks like Alfalfa.
K. Vincent: I do not!
T. Vincent: Do too.
Me: How did you develop such deadly aim?
T. Vincent: Aim? I don't aim.
Me: No? Then how did you do it, Kirby?
T. Vincent: Kirby throws like a girl.
K. Vincent: I do not!
T. Vincent: Do too.
Me: But if neither of you can throw, how do you win?
T. Vincent: Daddy says it's in the blood. He works in a marble factory, so he just gives us a hundred pound sack and with that we can chuck em away by the handful and still make it to the finals. Then after the game the other players trade us for the ones we have left.
Me: And there you have it, folks. You stand your ground and try not to lose your marbles. That's what it takes in the dog-eat-homework world of the parented.
Me: Tonight's show is about the horrors of war and some of its content may be too graphic for some family viewers. That said, he's a happily married father of four and grandfather of eleven whose eyewitness accounts have made the pages of history textbooks from here all the way to the countries we fought in - Colonel Earl Ogilvy!
(Applause. Greetings.)
Me: You were vastly outnumbered.
Ogilvy: Yup.
Me: And your unit bore the brunt of their assault.
Ogilvy: That's right. Most of us were with the Fighting Highlanders. But we had some support from the Loyal Lowlanders. And there were even a few from the Flying Dutchmen.
Me: What was it like for you on that fateful day?
Ogilvy: The enemy took us by surprise. Their first wave consisted of their smallest soldiers: brainwashed youths, dwarves, short men with something to prove, and so forth. This gave each of the larger and larger men of the following waves a light enough corpse to pick up and use as a shield against the hail of bullets from our guns.
Me: Kind of an insult to fallen heroes.
Ogilvy: Not compared to what they did to fallen foes.
Me: And what was that?
Ogilvy: Decapitate them.
Me: Good heavens! Why?
Ogilvy: To hold up like trophies when they advanced into battle.
Me: To demoralize you?
Ogilvy: And to confuse us. We'd be like, 'Where's Joe? Haven't seen him since lunch.' And someone would spot an enemy unit coming towards us and say 'Look! There he is!'.
Me: Well it sounds like a dirty job that you had to do over there, but it was better you than us! Let's show him our thanks as we go to the break. Retired Colonel Earl Ogilvy!
(Applause. Commercial.)
Me: She's an independent woman who liberated herself from an enemy P.O.W. camp against the highest odds. Clear a path for her at the checkout counter! Sergeant Tanya Haloway coming through!
(Applause. Greetings.)
Me: You were taken alone - separated from your unit. Were you lost?
Haloway: No. I knew the co-ordinates of where I was stranded.
Me: And you stumbled on an enemy position.
Haloway: Yes. They were a small raiding party. They only wanted food and panties. But once they saw that I saw them, they couldn't risk leaving me behind.
Me: Uh-huh. And then what happened?
Haloway: They blindfolded me and drove me to a camp. Then a guard untied my blindfold, brought me into a barracks, and told me to strip. I took off my helmet, looked up at him, and said 'think quick!' as I flung it into his face. It caught him on the bridge of his nose and he went down in pain. I pounced on him, broke his neck, and took his gun.
Me: And that's when you made your escape?
Haloway: Almost. But no sooner had I hid the body than another guard came by. He took an immediate interest in me and invited me back to his post. Once there I pushed him against his bunk and he hit the back of his head on its metal frame. Then I grabbed a pillow, put it over his face, and used it to muffle a gunshot and soak up his blood.
Me: You shot him in the face?
Haloway: I had to so I could keep his blood off of his uniform, which I needed for my disguise. Then I found some office supplies to make a phoney moustache out of a lock of my hair. He had a good sturdy knife on him, too. I needed that to silence the next man I faced as I went out through the gate.
Me: You're free to go at any time, by the way.
Haloway: I know.
Me: You can just get up and walk on out the door. No one will stand in your way.
Haloway: I know. Go on. Ask me another question.
Me: All right then. Has your field experience given you an edge here at home?
Haloway: Yes it has. It taught me how to deal with men, like that paramedic who wanted to examine my sprained ankle and that officer who tried to give me a ticket for speeding. And how to handle men who ask too many questions.
Me: (to the camera) We'll be right back. (to Haloway) You said I could ask another question, right? Are you threatening me? You wouldn't get away with it, you know. I have friends in high places. One of my uncles owns a bowling alley...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Commercial: Pro-Rate Reputation Salvation
(A bachelor tries to get a ticket for a movie with his inflatable date.)
Usher: Not so fast! This is a PG-13 movie. I'm gonna need to see some ID for the little lady.
Bachelor: But Wendy doesn't have ID!
Usher: (with a gloating smile) Then I'm sorry. I can't let her in.
(The bachelor turns away and drags the doll to the exit in failure.)
Announcer: Is your artificial romance keeping you at home? Get Pro-Rate, the complete reputation salvation kit for single men. Use Pro-Rate to make authentic looking documents for your silent partner so you can get back out there.
(The bachelor takes Wendy back to he movie theatre.)
Usher: Does she have ID?
Bachelor: Right here.
(He confidently hands the usher a passport. The usher opens it and checks its photo carefully against the doll's face. Then he gives back the booklet and lets the couple pass.)
Announcer: Make it official with Pro-Rate.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Me: He's an ace among fighter pilots, with over seventy-nine kills to his credit. Captain Skip Walker!
(Applause. Enter Walker. Greetings.)
Me: Seventy-nine kills. That's fine work, Captain. We salute you.
(More applause.)
Walker: Glad to be of service to my country.
Me: How did you shoot down so many fighters?
Walker: They weren't fighters.
Me: No? Oh well. You had to get past their fighters to reach their bombers.
Walker: They weren't bombers either.
Me: No? What were they?
Walker: Airships.
Me: I know that. But what kind?
Walker: You haven't heard of airships? (My expression is blank.) Dirigibles? (I still don't get it.) Zeppelins?
Me: Zeppelins? You mean like Led Zeppelin's album cover?
Walker: Yes.
Me: You mean blimps?
Walker: If you want to call them that.
Me: Blimps? Those floating monstrosities? Those count as kills?
Me: Because they're too easy! You could shoot one down with a slingshot! Oh well. Let's clap for him anyway, folks. Captain Skip Walker! Hey, at least he knows how to land safely.
Me: Wrongful convictions. We hear about them on the news and forget about them the next day. But the victims must somehow find the strength and the courage to move on with their brutally interrupted lives. The first of my guests knows what it's like. He's just received his walking papers from Fairview Institution after a grievous misunderstanding. Mister Allan Morningstar!
(Applause. Enter Morningstar. I shake his hand and we take our seats.)
Me: So! It must feel good to walk the streets again.
Morningstar: It would if I could. I'm always broke, so I have nowhere to walk.
Me: Still, I bet it's nice to have your privacy back.
Morningstar: Actually, I had more privacy in my cell before I had all this publicity.
Me: You can eat the food you like.
Morningstar: When I have money, sure. But the prison cafeteria offered more than soup.
Me: What about the women then? Don't they bring you a smile?
Morningstar: They were more into me when they thought I was guilty. I even had a groupie. Now I can't even find a girlfriend.
Me: Aren't you at least glad that your name has been cleared?
Morningstar: I guess it helps out here. But the charge against me was for killing a warden so that gave me all the respect I needed inside.
Me: Can you think of anything positive about being a free man?
Morningstar: (after pausing to think of an answer) You can do your time and it's over before you know it.
--------------------------------------------
Commercial: Immobiline Paralyzing Cream.
(A man fails to find a comfortable position on his couch as he watches television.)
Announcer: Lying still can be a challenge.
(He goes to the washroom and slides open the medicine cabinet.)
Announcer: That's why you need Immobiline paralyzing cream.
(He takes out the product and applies it to his neck before the mirror.)
Announcer: Immobiline penetrates deep down to relieve the ache of muscle atrophy...
(He returns to his place in front of the television and stretches out with ease.)
Announcer: ...so you can get on with your day. Immobiline paralyzing cream.
(A closeup of the man's smiling face out on the sidewalk.)
Announcer: Prime yourself for a softer life.
(Cue whirring electric motor. Pan out to show that he is riding a powered wheelchair.)
--------------------------------------------
Me: My next guest is struggling to pick up the pieces of his life after being incarcerated for someone else's sex offence. Let's let him know we're behind him, folks. Wilbur Bates!
(Applause. Enter Bates. I shake his hand and then find I have to wipe my hand against my pant leg. We take our seats.)
Me: I can only imagine what a terrible ordeal that must have been for you.
Bates: Yes it was. There's no prestige for that kind of crime - inside or out.
Me: But the victim, an eight-year-old girl, turned out to be lying. Why?
Bates: I don't know. I guess she didn't like my face.
Me: But you've been compensated now, right?
Bates: Oh yes. I've received a princely sum.
Me: That's great. What will you do with all your money?
Bates: I want to invest it in my own business.
Me: Great! Want to tell the folks at home about it?
Bates: It's a talent agency for young swimsuit models.
Me: I see. So you meet them and take their picture -
Bates: That's right. And I put it on my web site so they can find work.
Me: What's it called?
Bates: Hot Little Tots.
Me: (after a pause) Getting lots of hits with that?
Bates: Oh yeah.
Me: Well you'll be getting a lot more as soon as you leave the safety of this stage. (to the camera) We'll be right back, folks.
(Commercial.)
Me: Hindsight is a non-profit organization that has been working tirelessly on behalf of the wrongfully convicted for over ten years. With us now to tell us more is its founder and chairman, Mister Lloyd Palmer!
(Applause. Enter Palmer. We shake hands and take our seats.)
Me: Why do you care so much about the wrongly convicted?
Palmer: Someone has to.
Me: What changes can we make to the system to lighten the workload for people like yourself?
Palmer: We need to crack down on witnesses.
Me: Are you sure that's wise? I mean, we don't want to discourage them.
Palmer: Dave, these witnesses have been getting away with murder convictions. Enough is enough.
Me: What did you have in mind?
Palmer: They need to be strictly tested for reliability.
Me: How?
Palmer: With everything in the book. They need an eye examination. Then a hearing test. Then a lie detector test. Then they should be examined by a physician. They should do push-ups and sit-ups and be able to run on the spot for at least five minutes without too much change to their blood pressure. Then detectives need to get on the phone and call all their friends and relatives and ask if they can be trusted. If they're women, a strip search may be necessary to find out if they're hiding anything. And if any information is found that discredits them, they need to be hauled out in front of the cameras and humiliated. And their names should be entered onto a permanent file so that no one listens to them ever again.
Me: We haven't had any women on the show for a couple of days, so tonight's show will be about modern women and their problems. My first guest is a politician. Always happy to see more women represented in our government. Here she is, Senator Sharon Sanderson!
(Enter Sanderson, squeaky clean as a young flight attendant. I get up to greet her with a warm hug. We take our seats.)
Me: Thank you for being on the show.
Sanderson: Not at all. I'm pleased to gain support for my initiatives.
Me: Good. Do you think they suffer for addressing women's needs?
Sanderson: Oh yes. Definitely.
Me: How?
Sanderson: One example is the opposition I face with the new law I'm trying to pass, Bill C-95, that would introduce harsher penalties for ogling women in public.
Me: Why don't they support that? No one likes those oglers.
Sanderson: Sheer discrimination. Men have the majority and it's not their problem.
Me: Male relatives are affected.
Sanderson: Not directly. That's why I want to make eye contact with a woman illegal for a man in public places -
Me: Any woman?
Sanderson: - unless he's on familiar terms with her.
Me: Any eye contact?
Sanderson: If you don't know her, you'd not be allowed to look at her.
Me: Isn't that a little radical? And what would the punishment be for breaking this law?
Sanderson: Death.
Me: Are you mad? How did you last in politics?
Sanderson: (tensely) The usual way, I slept with a House Leader.
Me: (to the camera) Honest to a fault. Let's hear it again for Senator Sharon Sanderson everyone!
(Applause. Commercial.)
Me: The second of my fair visitors is a young lady who has recently passed her basic training as a naval aviator. Let's hear it for Lieutenant Helen Strang!
(Enter Strang in dress uniform. I greet her with a playful salute. We smile and hug, then seat ourselves.)
Me: You don't look Chinese.
Strang: No, it's short for the English word 'strangle'.
Me: (backing out) You must be fit. That's some basic training program you have. Even the men find it hard. Why did you choose such a challenging occupation?
Strang: Several reasons. I needed to prove that a woman can stand up to any challenge that a man can.
Me: Commendable.
Strang: I wanted to train my body for self defence.
Me: It doesn't hurt.
Strang: And as a pilot I am capable of adding to the number of women in the space program.
Me: All for it - especially if they look like Barbarella from that movie!
Strang: But the most important one is personal. I feel that it sets me apart from other women.
Me: What's that?
Strang: (gleefully) These outfits are so in!
(Commercial.)
Me: Rounding off the guest portion of tonight's show is a professional woman who experienced sexual harassment on the job. I think this is a problem that needs to be talked about, folks. And now, Miss Hannah Francis!
(Enter the sensibly dressed Francis. I get up to greet her with a hug and we share a few inaudible words before we take our seats.)
Me: This is a continuing problem in the workplace, I hear.
Francis: It certainly is.
Me: And the offender in your case was your boss?
Francis: Yes.
Me: (looking down at notes) It says here you had to pose as his girlfriend at a party and then he insulted you in his car as he was driving you home. That's no big deal.
Francis: No, he a- ssaulted me.
Me: Oh! Sorry. (awkward silence) Did you do something to him?
Francis: No! He just thought that since he was paying me, he could do whatever he wanted with me.
Me: Hmph! Imagine taking such liberties! How long did you work for him?
Francis: About two hours.
Me: Is that all? What was your job?
Francis: I was his escort.
--------------------------------------------
Commercial: Gas-in-a-Stick Man Repellant
(Tracy and Allison, parked in their desks, answer phone calls in the reception room.)
Tracy: Mister Peters? Yes, I'll put you right through. Just a minute. Oh dear.
Allison: What's the matter?
Tracy: (softly losing control) I cut him off. Oh God. Why? That's the second time I've done that this week! I think I'm going to cry! (She succumbs to gentle sobs. Allison gets up and goes over to comfort her.)
Allison: I'm worried about you, Tracy. You've been very emotional lately. Are you hiding something?
Tracy: (through her tears, pointing to a nearby office door.) It's Mister Peters! He's been harassing me again!
Allison: Well that's what mace is for, honey.
Tracy: But what if I miss?
Allison: Then here, try this. (She pulls a miniature deodorant stick out of her purse and gives it to Tracy.)
Tracy: (reading its label) Gas-in-a-Stick man repellant.
Allison: It packs the same punch as nerve gas and acts automatically whenever an unwelcome man comes within range. But you won't smell a thing!
(The door opens behind them and Peters steps out.)
Allison: You'll see it in action now.
Peters: Excuse me, do you have the - Uh! (He falls to the floor, clutching his throat, eyes bulging.)
Allison: See? (Tracy is missing.) Tracy? Where did you go?
(The camera pans out to show Tracy on the floor, choking and writhing.)
Announcer: Gas-in-a-Stick man repellant. If you're not wearing it, someone else is.
Me: Many people say they have been reincarnated. Some are not as kooky as you think, like General George Patton. But seldom does a scientist make such a far-fetched claim. Our first guest is just such a scientist, Doctor Who!
(Applause. Lights flash as the TARDIS machine appears out of nowhere. Out steps the Doctor. Greetings. I get up to shake his hand and we take our seats.)
Me: Geez, you don't look anything like Tom Baker.
Who: That's because I regenerated into this new actor's body.
Me: You haven't degenerated at all. You look even younger.
Who: No, regenerated.
Me: Regenerated? But this show is supposed to be about reincarnation, not regeneration.
Who: Well I thought about reincarnating once, but it would take too long to grow up and learn how to build a TARDIS machine.
Me: (checking some papers on my desk) I see. Looks like they goofed again. Sorry folks. Oh well. I guess regeneration is close enough.
Who: It's roughly the same experience.
Me: Why do you regenerate?
Who: Sometimes it's because of old age, but more often it's to give my assistant variety in the bedroom.
Me: That's very thoughtful, but how do you give yourself this kind of variety?
Who: I fire my assistant and hire a new one.
Me: (after a pause) Can you remember what all your assistants were like in bed, no matter what body you occupy?
Who: Oh yes. That's important data.
Me: What was Peri like? She looked great in that bikini.
Who: Energetic. I had to regenerate early on in our relationship.
Me: Interesting... And what was Leela like? Damn, she looked fine in a miniskirt.
Who: Playful. We had a lot of fun together.
Me: I bet! I think it's great that young women can be attracted to older men.
Who: So do I.
Me: I noticed that you have a new assistant now.
Who: I do indeed.
Me: Does that mean you're finished with Peri and Leela?
(Commercial.)
Me: My next guest is an ordinary worker with an extraordinary tale. He claims to have been reincarnated a remarkable twelve times. Mister Lester Hobbes!
(Applause. Enter Hobbes. Greetings. We take our seats.)
Me: So, twelve times, eh?
Hobbes: That's right, Dave.
Me: And what sort of work do you do?
Hobbes: I make aquarium gravel.
Me: And what did you do in your last life?
Hobbes: I was a Vandal.
Me: A vandal? Did you get in trouble with the law?
Hobbes: (smiling) No, the Vandals was the name of my tribe.
Me: Oh. And in the life before that?
Hobbes: I was a king.
Me: Sounds like a step up.
Hobbes: It was.
Me: And in the life before that, what did you do?
Hobbes: I was an elf.
Me: (chuckling) An elf? Where was that? Up in Santa's Workshop?
Hobbes: No, I was a warrior elf. Then I slew a dragon and that's how I got to come back as a king.
Me: (after repeating his words back to myself) Wait a minute. Those are all lives in that online fantasy role-playing game, Swords and Soothsayers!
Hobbes: So?
Me: This show is supposed to be about real lives!
Hobbes: Then why did I hear about it from the White Wizard?
--------------------------------------------
Commercial: The Spellbound Spell-Check Spelling Checker
(A chairman stands before his Board, reading a speech.)
Chairman: ...and we protect that we shall attribute our moles within the next two to four beers. (He smiles sheepishly as his listeners look at each other in confusion. Later on in the office he talks to his writers.)
Chairman: That was the worst speech you guys have come up with yet!
Head Writer: It's not us. It's this damn spell-checking software. It keeps changing our spelling errors into different words.
Chairman: Well you better do something about it or the next thing you'll be writing is a letter of application for a new job!
Announcer: Tired of well spelled gibberish? Don't let your computer think for you. Get Spellbound, the amazing new spell-check spelling checker. It knows how to correct whole sentences until your work is flowing with good syntax.
(Back in the Boardroom.)
Chairman: ...and the man on the moon has no harem of slave girls to teach him how to pass a pregnancy test. (He smiles confidently as his listeners applaud.)
Board Member #1: I still don't understand him.
Board Member #2: Yeah, but at least he's coherent this time.
Announcer: The Spellbound Spell-Check Spelling Checker. Whatever you do, don't read it for yourself.
--------------------------------------------
Me: My last guest only remembers one past life, but it promises to be a real one. Mister Randolf Butler!
(Applause. Enter Butler. Greetings. We reseat ourselves.)
Me: So you were really reincarnated, right?
Butler: Yes.
Me: Really?
Butler: Yes, really.
Me: How do you know for sure?
Butler: I can just sense it somehow.
Me: In what way?
Butler: I feel like I have somehow evolved. I think reincarnation is a kind of evolution of the soul.
Me: That's most compelling. In what ways do you think you have improved?
Butler: Well, for starters, I'm a much better artist. I couldn't draw human heads before. But now I can draw them quite well.
Me: Yes, those can be hard to do.
Butler: And I've become more musically open-minded. I even like your music.
Me: Thank you.
Butler: And I don't hate Jews any more. I want them on my side so I can kill all the Newfies. And I plan to be a lot more merciful and quick in how the genocides are carried out this time.
(I pause to examine my guest.)
Me: I see. You know what? Our lighting technician hails from Labrador. Would you like to meet him? He used to play for the Argos. Come on out here and meet our guest, Graham! Back with a song in two minutes, folks.
(Enter the formidable looking Graham, punching his hand eagerly. Fear shows on Butler's face.)
I thought it might be interesting tonight if we could talk to some other talk show hosts and see how they perform in the guest chair. I bet you're as curious as I am to find out if they're as good at answering questions as they are at asking them. My first guest is the popular host of the Comical Network's Nightly Show. He's funny, smart, and the only star I've met who can outscore me in Castle Wolfenstein. Let's have a big hand for Ron Newhart!
(Enter Newhart. We shake hands and take our seats.)
Me: Now I've been following your show for years and I think it's one of the best. I especially like how you cover news stories. But why do your guests always have their own books?
Newhart: Do you think it's pretentious?
Me: No, I mean, why do they always seem to need their own book before they can get on your show?
Newhart: Do you think it's exclusive?
Me: Can't any star pay a hack to write a book for them?
Newhart: Are you saying that today a book's success depends on the celebrity of its author?
Me: Would you read a book merely on the strength of the author's popularity?
Newhart: Do I strike you as dumb?
Me: What?
Newhart: Do you think I'm stupid?
Me: Didn't you do well in school?
Newhart: Would my scholastic performance be a true measure of my intelligence?
Me: Were you a class clown?
Newhart: Do you mean a funny clown or a goofy clown?
Me: (after pausing to concentrate) Aren't goofs funny?
Newhart: Are you calling me a goof?
Me: Why I would I say something so rude to a guest?
Newhart: Why did you?
Me: Have you never heard of a rebel clown? Why did you think I was talking about a goofy clown? Folks, we're going to a commercial while I straighten out this problem with my distinguished and -uh- inquisitive guest.
(Commercial.)
Me: And now for a man whose show was every bit as enjoyable in black-and-white as it was in colour. Mister Rick Havick!
(Applause. Enter Havick. Greetings. We take our seats.)
Me: Let me tell you, your show had the coolest guests: Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, John Lennon, and serious writers like Anthony Burgess and Jersey Kosinski and Truman Capote. How did you get such awesome talent to come on your show when they were snubbing everyone else?
Havick: Do you think I sucked up to them?
Me: Well, did you?
Havick: Weren't the things I was saying in my monologues enough to attract them?
Me: Like what?
Havick: Didn't you pay attention to my monologues?
Me: Was I supposed to at the age of five?
Havick: Can't you watch them on the internet?
Me: Do you know how much it costs for a home connection these days?
Havick: Do you think my monologues aren't worth it?
Me: How would I know without seeing them?
Havick: Without the internet, how did you become a fan of my work?
Me: Would my dislike of Nixon be too negative a reason?
Havick: Are you referring to the recording of him saying he had to 'get' Havick?
Me: Do you think it helped you when they caught him saying that?
Havick: Do you think I needed help?
Me: Is there anything wrong with needing help once in a while?
Havick: Are you calling me a bum?
Me: Why would I be so rude to a guest? (Turning to camera) Folks, we'll return shortly after I clear this up. (Turning back to Havick) Why did you think I meant -
--------------------------------------------
Commercial: Max-mix Protein Powder.
(Two workers struggle to scrape tiles from a rooftop with spades. Worker #1 gives out.)
Worker #2: (shouting) Foreman!
(Enter the foreman.)
Foreman: What's the problem?
Worker #2: He's not going to last until lunchtime. Better send in another man.
Foreman: (to the fallen worker) What's the matter with you? You were fine yesterday.
Worker #1: I haven't eaten since this morning.
Foreman: Well that's not enough! Come with me.
(They go over to the edge of the roof where the foreman's lunchbox lies. He opens it and pulls out a plastic bottle and a small carton of milk.)
Worker #1: What's that?
Foreman: It's Max-mix. A month's supply of protein in every teaspoon. Just pour a little in your milk and you'll have all the energy you need. (He prepares a drink of the mixture for Worker #1 and hands it to him. Bob tilts his head back, downs it all, and lets out a gasp of satisfaction.)
Foreman: How do you feel?
Worker #1: That's revitalizing!
Foreman: Are you ready to go back to work?
Worker #1: I sure am! (He takes a few steps away from the edge and crashes through the tiles, leaving behind a fresh hole.)
Announcer: Get fortified with Max-mix protein powder - as long as you don't work in roofing.
--------------------------------------------
Me: He's a man who retired from his job on the Evening Show at the height of his popularity. Ladies and gentlemen, the legendary Jamie Carsick!
(Applause. Enter Carsick. Greetings. We take our seats.)
Me: Mister Carsick, I know that you, like my last two visitors, are used to asking the questions. But are you prepared to supply us with a few answers tonight?
Carsick: What kind of answers?
Me: Sigh! The kind that do not end with a question mark.
Carsick: The punctuation mark or, as you just did, with the words, 'question mark'?
Me: Why is this so impossible?
Carsick: Are you upset? Have I said something to upset you? (I break down and start to blubber.) Are you not feeling well? Would you like a Gravol or something? (I start hitting my head against my desk and redouble my sobbing.) What did you have to eat today? Are you -
(Commercial)
And now for a song over which there hopefully remains no question of my ownership.
Me: Tonight I'll be asking a few prominent members of the First Nations for their input on how we might solve some of those nagging cultural problems that have been caused since the settlement of this region by Europeans and Asians. As a man of obvious European descent who is not nearly as dark as Marlon Brando, I hope I won't be ruffling any eagle feathers in my treatment of this very serious and sensitive topic. And now ... he's a man whose physical mass is only outmatched by the size of his heart. Let's hear it for everyone's favourite psychiatric patient, the Chief!
(Enter the Chief. I get up to greet him and he shakes my hand so firmly that I cry out in pain. We take our seats.)
Me: Chief, everyone has an opinion on what to do about the clash of cultures in this region, but I think it's really the opinions of indigenous persons like yourself that matter. Could you tell us in a few words how you think we might approach this problem?
(Silence.)
Me: Chief?
(Silence.)
Me: Uh-huh. I think I know how I can break down this communication barrier. (I take out a pack of chewing gum from my desk, peel open the wrapper, and pull out a stick. The Chief spots what I have in my hands and his eyes widen with excitement.) Care for a stick? (The Chief accepts the gum, unwraps it, pops it in his mouth, and starts chewing.) Did you -
Chief: (between smacks) Before the Combine came along and made everything the same, things were different. When I was a boy, my father would take me out into the woods and teach me to hunt and fish. We used every part of the animals we killed. We wasted nothing. Then some white men came with their guns. They killed all the animals and just left them to rot. And when my father tried to stop them, they gave him a bottle of medicine that made him want to keep drinking out of it. He kept drinking and drinking and drinking, and when the white men wouldn't give him any more, he killed them all with an ax. And he put their bodies in a white man's wagon and set it on fire until it exploded. Then he took all their medicine and all their guns. He kept the medicine for himself but he gave the guns to my sisters and showed them how to use them against white men.
Me: So you -
Chief: (smacking away) My father drank all the medicine and needed to get more. So he went into the town and found the place where the medicine comes from. He wanted to trade some animal skins for more medicine, but the white man told him his skins were mangy. He made my father feel stupid, so my father pinned him to the wall with one hand and lifted him off the floor until he stopped breathing. Then he took all the medicine and loaded it into saddlebags and carried it home. After a while, I started to notice how my father didn't drink out of the bottle any more. The bottle drank out of him. Then one day my brother got into my father's medicine when my father was asleep. He drank half a bottle of it, and when my father woke up, they got into a fight. My father won and kicked my brother out of the house. My brother went into the town and got himself a job breaking horses for fifty thousand dollars a week. (I hold up a sign saying 'BACK IN TWO MINUTES'.) And my sisters hated the way the medicine changed my father and got jobs in the town as saloon dancers...
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Commercial: The Soundproof Suicide Persuasion Line
(A man about to hang himself talks on his phone.)
Man: I'm going to do it, I tell you!
Phone: (Woman's voice. Soothing tones.) Now you mustn't be sure about it or you wouldn't have called us and waited half an hour for the line to clear.
Man: I am so sure about it! I've got the rope around my neck and I'm standing on a chair!
(A uniformed rescue party breaks in.)
Officer #1: Oh no you don't! (They seize him and put him safely on the floor.)
Officer #2: Say, isn't that the same guy we had to rescue last month?
Officer #3: I remember helping him last year.
Officer #2: Maybe he'd be better off with Soundproof. Sir, who was that you were just talking to on the phone?
Man: The Suicide Prevention Team.
Officer #2: Oh, you won't get anywhere with them. Try this number next time. (He hands the man a card.)
Man: Gee, thanks!
Announcer: Looking for someone to give you that little push you need to fall off a roof? Give Soundproof a call. Our team of trained professionals know just what you want to hear.
(The next week. The man is again in position to hang himself, with his phone in his ear. He pulls out the card and dials the number on it.)
Phone: (Woman's voice. Disagreeable tones.) What do you want?
Man: I want to die!
Phone: Oh you want to die, do you? Is it because you're such a loser? I can tell by your weak voice that you never get laid. Are you impotent or just unsure of your sexuality?
Man: I - I - (He bursts into tears.)
Phone: Oh, it's because you're a suck! Well now is your chance to prove you're a man! Do it! Do it!
(The next day. The officers stand around a hurst as the man's covered body is wheeled out of his building.)
Officer #2: (beaming) Looks like Soundproof did the trick.
Officer #3: Yeah. Maybe God can put up with his whining.
Announcer: The Soundproof Suicide Persuasion Line. We're here so they're not.
--------------------------------------------
(My long legs stick out of a small pupil's 'replacement' desk. A large, ugly hole gapes in the wall behind me.)
Me: As you can see, the Chief couldn't find the exit. But our next guest is no stranger to outdoor life. He's been a bonafide elder since his tribe's run-in with General Custer. Let's hear it for Grandfather!
(Applause. Enter Grandfather in traditional garb, pushing his intravenous stand. He walks so slowly that I am able to get up, go over and shake his hand, and return to my tiny temporary desk and cram myself into it before he has made it halfway across the stage. Eventually he takes his seat.)
Me: Grandfather, your people, unlike my stupid people, have a deep respect for their elders. As the eldest of these elders, with the greatest storehouse of wisdom, what advice could you offer the world to help First Nations people in the modern age?
Grandfather: (slowly and deliberately) The - black - white - man - and the - little - big - man - run in - circles... (He stops.)
Me: Yes? Go on. The black white man...
Grandfather: And the - little - big - man - run in...
Grandfather: At - the - sparrows. And the - Great - Spirit - moves - like the - wind - through the - caves of -- through the - caves - of... (Again he stops.)
Me: Of what? Caves of what? Grandfather, we're running out of time!
Grandfather: Through the caves of time.
Me: Oh, that's what it was? Time? Hmm. That's actually quite profound.
(Commercial.)
Me: Our last guest on the show tonight is a man who grew up in the projects and has since become a leading advocate for minorities' rights. Mr Elrond Hayes!
(Enter Hayes, a man of obviously African heritage. Confusion shows on my face as I get up to greet him. We take our seats.)
Me: Thank you for being on the show.
Hayes: Thanks for inviting me.
Me: (after a pause) So was your mother First Nations?
Hayes: No, she was Portuguese Viking.
Me: Oh. Your father then?
Hayes: One hundred percent Zulu.
Me: (after a pause) So how did you get on this show?
Hayes: What do you mean?
Me: This show is about First Nations issues.
Hayes: Oh, I get it. You think First Nations people are the only ones who have rhythm, just because they're banging on those drums all the time. And you think First Nations people are the only ones that know how to play the blues or that know how to play the saxophone properly. And you think First Nations people are the only ones that score with the ladies. And you think they're only ones that excel in athletic competitions. And you think they're the only ones who suffer through poverty and social segregation. And you think they're the only ones who can make it all the way to become the president of the United States. And you think -
Me: All right! All right! You've made your point. Fine. So how would you change things to make life better for First Nations people?
Hayes: I think that for half the year we should put all the white people on those reserves and let the brown people have the suburbs.
Me: I sort of follow you. But what about the First Nations people?
Hayes: Oh, them? Ship em back to Africa.
Me: Well, as hard as it is for me to do, I'm going to respect your opinion because I think the answer to all minority issues boils down to simple respect. And the title of the song I've got coming up after the break agrees with me.
Me: For our last show of the week, we'll be discussing a topic of interest to everyone: how to get rich. As usual, I have three guests lined up for you. So without further ado, let's bring out the first one right now. Mister Oscar T. Finkelmeyer!
(Applause. Enter Finkelmeyer. Greetings. Handshake. We take our seats.)
Me: So you have won the lottery an incredible four times.
Finkelmeyer: That's right.
Me: You're going to have to tell us your secret.
Finkelmeyer: I did it all with common sense. I took a businesslike approach to it.
Me: I'm not sure I follow you. Don't you win those things by simple luck?
Finkelmeyer: You can take steps to improve your odds. I have wanted to be a lottery winner from a very early age. I've been planning it out for a long time.
Me: I still don't follow you. What sort of steps are you talking about?
Finkelmeyer: Well, first, you need to get your hands on a large supply of tickets. So you need to open up a convenience store that vends lottery tickets. You need to choose a location close to an old age home because old people buy more tickets. What you do is keep a winning ticket for a small prize handy, and when one of them comes in to check a big winner, you switch it for the small winner, pay off the customer, and cash in their ticket for yourself. They're old, so they'll probably die before they find out about it.
Me: (after a pause) Isn't that illegal?
Finkelmeyer: Again, you have to think ahead. Make sure to pay off all the cops with your winnings as soon as you get them. Then use some of the money to open up more vending outlets. I have a chain of stores now across six states, each located across from an old age home.
Me: Geez, it's a lot more straightforward than I imagined.
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Commercial: Pottypants
(A group waits for an elevator. The camera singles out a young couple.)
Man: I'm not going to make it.
Woman: Hold it in! Just twenty more floors!
Man: It's stopping again!
Woman: It has to stop to let on other people.
Man: I'm not going to make it. Why did I have that fourth glass of prune juice?
Woman: Hold it in!
Man: I can't! I can't!
(He messes his white suit. A woman screams. The elevator doors open and they get on as everyone else heads for the stairs.)
Announcer: Don't let this happen to you. Get Pottypants, a product that was once only available for patients with colitis. Pottypants is made with super absorbent material and treated with chemicals that filter human waste and change its smell to the sweet scent of lilacs.
(The couple at home, playing backgammon.)
Woman: Why are you making that face?
Man: What face?
Woman: You better not be relieving yourself.
Man: Of course, not. It's your turn. (He turns to the camera, smiles, and winks.)
Announcer: Pottypants. Because it's your business.
--------------------------------------------
Me: And now we're going to meet an advertising mogul who's going to tell us how to be successful in the art of persuasion. She's a former classmate of mine, Miss Mitsy Sharpe!
(Enter Sharpe. Greetings. Hugs. We take our seats.)
Me: Mitsy, I understand that your business reported over three billion dollars in profits last year. How do you do it?
Sharpe: Well, Dave, the advertising business is constantly evolving, so it's important to stay up-to-date with the techniques that are used.
Me: Do you mean those psychological techniques we learned back in trade school?
Sharpe: Actually those are starting to become obsolete. Nowadays physical persuasion is proving to be the most effective.
Me: Physical persuasion?
Sharpe: Yes. You do recall watching Triumph of the Will in propaganda class, don't you?
Me: Well sure, but I thought that was because Hitler was such a master propagandist.
Sharpe: You overlooked his mastery of strong-arm tactics.
Me: Strong-arm tactics. You mean bullying?
Sharpe: Right. You should have gone the extra mile and read Mein Kampf. 'The creation of force is the creation of power.'
Me: Come to think of it, I only got a 'B' on that paper. Of course, the teacher thought I was a degenerate Slav. So how do you employ these new techniques?
Sharpe: We do so with the aim of creating brand loyalty. We create an environment in which the only brand consumers can trust is our clients' brand. We do so by introducing the threat of physical harm for consumers if they attempt to buy any brand from our clients' competitors.
Me: This must have caused some changes in your personnel.
Sharpe: Yes, we've replaced all our psychological experts with highly trained mercenaries.
Me: Well, thank you for being with us today, and I hope I haven't said anything to offend you.
(Commercial)
Me: Our last guest worked his way up to become the biggest bigshot in the music business. Let's have a big hand for Jimmy the Slick!
(Enter Slick, with the broad smile of a politician and his arm raised over his head as he waves. Greetings. I shake his hand but it slips off. We take our seats.)
Me: Thank you for coming on the show.
Slick: My pleasure.
Me: Now my last guest says that her business is constantly evolving. Is it the same with the music business?
Slick: It sure is.
Me: So how are some of the ways that it has changed in the last while?
Slick: Well, the internet has changed everything. It's given us a whole new approach.
Me: Please tell us more.
Slick: Well, in the old days, we used to seize work from submitted tapes. Now we do it by surfing the internet.
Me: Seize work?
Slick: Yeah! Like there was this one guy, this big, dumb, hick bohunk who didn't know he had a hit song. We scooped it up and cashed it in behind his back! Heh! heh! heh! What a maroon! Heh! heh!
Me: (after a pause) And what song was that?
Slick: All My Money.
Me: That's my song, you creep! (I jump up from my chair and pull Slick to the floor. We wrestle fiercely. The security pulls us apart.)
Slick: (leaving) Just for that, I'm not coming back here!
Me: (held tightly by security) LET ME AT HIM! LET ME AT HIM!
(Commercial.)
Me: And now I guess I'm in the right frame of mind to convincingly perform this song.
