Saturday, July 27, 1991

Mold Injected Plastic!

Old film footage. Black and white. Bad sound. A cornball barbershop quartet sings with a fake Irish accent. The tune is basically lifted from "Tooralooraloora," but slightly changed. They sing with feeling. Gushy feeling.

Melted plastic is injected in a cunning mold.

Once it's cooled, it's then inspected

Packed and shipped and sold.

Molded plastic, it’s fantastic,

Worth its weight in gold.

Mold-injected plastic ...

A wonder to behold!

It’s there in everything you see.

It’s there in all you do.

Mold-injected plastic

It’s like a friend so true!

"Plastics, lad," the wise man said--and it's still true today!

Our polymeric plastic land, the grand old USA

All you ages past of stone and copper

Iron, bronze and brass ...

This is the Age of Plastic

So you all can kiss my ass!

It’s there in games and toys and guns.

It helps us fight the war.

Mold-injected plastic

Makes life worth living for!

These plastic treasures never rust or stain or chip away.

Your sturdy ice chest will survive

From now 'til Judgment Day!

From your child's platoon of army men,

To wife's dildo 'neath the bed,

Mold-injected plastic ...

Will be here when they're dead!

When Jesus Christ returns to earth

We know what He will do

His sandals will be neoprene

Sure, His white robe is plastic too!

This bizarre jingle is part of a longer series of sketches involving the JACK GETZ character, who works at an advertising agency. Their latest, biggest account, is the American Mold-Injected Plastics Manufacturers Association. Mr. P. Laydo, the crew-cutted, beefy head of the AMIPMA, plays this scratchy, black and film -- dating back to the early 1960s -- to the folks at the agency. (The more surreal verses involving Jesus Christ and dildos are in Jack's imagination as Jack nods off in sheer boredom.) Then, Jack snaps awake. Mr. P. Laydo is shouting, "Well, what did you think?" Before the creatives can answer, the beefy CEO says he wants to create a hip, new, "cutting-edge" image for mold-injected plastic that young folk can relate to -- you know, like that stuff on MTV. Can you do it? Well, sure. Jack's just the man for the job! Jack winds up creating a series of campaigns, ripping off James Bond, the Beastie Boys, Cyndi Lauper, pretty much any cultural detritus he can throw in the blender, including the "What would our world look like if all the mold-injected plastic disappeared?" bit that they already did on "Amazon Women on the Moon." it goes on for pages and pages. The guy hates Jack's stuff and, ultimately, goes back to the cornball barbershop quartet. Jack gets fired.

Wednesday, July 3, 1991

The Ballad of Slade Killgun

They called him Slade,

Slade Killgun.

He truly was an evil S.O.B.

Slade, Slade Killgun.

A psycho-killer out of Western history.

First Slade would shoot you,

Then he’d cut you.


And string your guts for all the world to see.

Oh, he was evil and inhuman,

A psycho-killer out of Western history.

But folks all loved him

‘Cause they were greedy.

And Slade’s exploits

Gave this town publicity.

Yep, thanks to Slade, each hotel were filled to bursting

With Texas Rangers who wore a badge like me.

Not to mention bounty hunter scumbags,

Dime novelist scribblers,

And crazy whores

Who dreamed of death in agony.

All them folks, good, bad and ugly,

Spent their coin

With goddamn liberality.

Slade was your pal …

His knife made money!

What’s a body here or there?

Ain’t nothing free.

You folks all loved him

‘Cause you were greedy.

And Slade’s exploits

Gave your town publicity.

Then, one fine day, old Slade commenced to riding

And cracked his neck on a branch from a rotten tree.


A certain Sherriff found him there a-hanging

And told the Mayor …

“Let’s keep this shit twixt you and me.”

You two ‘suckers buried Slade but kept it quiet.

And kept on killing.

So the tourists wouldn’t flee.

You’d hack up victims

Then count the profits.

This shit went on for years

I’m sad to say.

Your whole damn town

Knew what the deal was.

Now I do, too.

Starting now

You boys had best commence to pray.

Seems old Slade blew up the dam

Back up the river.

And your whole goddamn town

Got washed away.

Slade’s final act of sick revenge, boys

At least that’s what

Them papers gonna say.

They called him Slade,

Slade Killgun.

He truly was an evil S.O.B.

He couldn’t help it; but you folks could.

I’m gonna keep you out of Western history.