Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Star Trek: The Stupid Curtain


KIRK is asleep.

Red alert. The ship shudders. Everything's bathed in white light. The ship's lights go dead. 

SPOCK: (shaking KIRK's shoulder) Wake up, Captain.

KIRK: Huh? Wh... I thought she was over eighteen, your honor. I had no waying of knowing. The Zoobian year. Is eight months long. (suddenly realizing where he is) Oh. Spock. Uh. Status report.

SPOCK: We're being scanned, Captain. A deep probe, incredibly swift.

UHURA: Mmm-hmmm.

The lights come back up, and a man appears on the view screen. FONZIE.

MCCOY: Jim! Look!

The FONZ is floating in space, thumbs hitched in his leather jacket.

FONZ:  (on viewscreen) Yo. Captain Kirk. Ayyyyy.

KIRK: The Fonz!

FONZ: (on viewscreen) Correctamundo!

KIRK: But …You’re a fictional character!

FONZ: Hey. You’re a fictional character.

McCOY: I have a very bad feeling about this.

KIRK and FONZ (in unison) Wrong franchise,dipstick.

KIRK, SPOCK and McCOY dematerialize.

Well-known pointy rock formations north of L.A.

KIRK, SPOCK, McCOY and FONZ materialize.

KIRK: Where the hell are we?

SPOCK: Vasquez Rocks, just north of LA, Captain.

KIRK glares at him.

SPOCK: That is to say, a planet with striking similar, uh, meterological and geographic features to said, uh, overused film location.

KIRK: Nicely played, Spock.

ROCK ENTITIES appear, surrounding the party in a circle.

SPOCK: (pointing) Rock entity at one o’clock!

McCOY: Rock entity at two o'clock!

FONZ: Three o'clock rock!

The ROCK ENTITIES start dancing and singing. The FONZ joins in.

ROCK ENTITIES and FONZ: Four O'clock rock, Five, Six, Seven O'clock, Eight O'clock rock. Nine, Ten, Eleven O'clock, Twelve O'clock rock, We're gonna rock around the clock tonight!

One ROCK ENTITY (aka ROCKY) steps forward and waves its heavy fore-claws. 


The other ROCK ENTITIES stop dancing, shut up and slink away.

ROCKY: Welcome back to Escalbia, Captain.

KIRK: Aw crap. Not this again.

ROCKY: Yes Captain. This. Again.

McCOY: Fredric Brown is rolling in his goddamn grave.

Cut of Frederic Brown, the original SF writer who penned "Arena," actually rolling in his grave.

ROCKY: Now, a new drama unfolds. I see you've met the Fonz.

FONZ: Ayyyy.

ROCKY: Now. Meet your new friends. Elvis.

ELVIS appears. The young ELVIS. He lets loose with a string of dipthongs.

ELVIS: Euhhuehh.

ROCKY: And Fat Elvis.

FAT ELVIS: Woah. Man. This ain’t heaven, huh?

ELVIS: No man. Some fucking planet or sumpin.

FAT ELVIS: Wow man. That’s some strong stuff, tell you what. Taking a dump one second. Bright light. Next thing I know science fiction city.

ROCKY: Gentleman, please. We can do this later ...

FAT ELVIS: Hey. You look familiar man.

ELVIS: I’m you.


ELVIS: Yeah, man. Elvis.

ROCKY in background getting increasingly pissed.

FAT ELVIS: How do you know I’m Elvis?

ELVIS: Says so on your sissy jacket, man.

FAT ELVIS' sequined jacket, in fact, has the name "Elvis" written on it in glass-bead studs in bulbous cursive handwriting.

ROCKY: We are wasting time here!

ELVIS: Elvis. Hell, that means I’m you. Man you let yourself go.

FAT ELVIS: Screw you, man.

ELVIS: Look like a fruit all those dang things dangling off you.

FAT ELVIS: Chicks dig …

ROCKY: Shut up!

ELVIS and FAT ELVIS: (dirty look) Talking to the Kings man.

FONZ: Yeah. Sit on it!

The ELVI go back to squabbling.

ROCKY: Shut up and I’ll give you some pills!

They shut up.

ROCKY: Well, Kirk. Young Elvis, Fat Elvis and the Fonz. Do you detect the common element, Captain?

KIRK: Ah, Space Christ …

ROCKY: Yes. The human philosophy of "cool." Which is opposed by the philosophy you term "uncool." Such philosophies are alien to us.

KIRK: You ever heard of Wikipedia? Look it up.

ROCKY: We did. The definition is opaque and contradictory.

McCOY: Hell, you dumb rock, everyone knows what cool is.

ROCKY: Very well, doctor. What is cool?

McCOY: It’s, uh … it’s … I’m a doctor, damnit. Not a … clever uh, word-defining guy.

ROCKY: Yes. I thought so. Now … Behold your uncool opponents!

Emo Phillips appears.

ROCKY: Emo Phillips, who endured 15 minutes of degrading fame as whipping boy for Judy Tenuta.

EMO: (muttering) Enjoyed.

ROCKY: Woody Allen, who mocked his lecherous, craven nature and turned out to be even worse.

WOODY: I'm available for children's parties.

ROCKY: Bill Gates, who crushed the souls of millions.

GATES: (snorts) Billions.

ROCK: Now you shall fight. To the death. In the struggle, we shall observe which is stronger. Thus, we shall learn the nature of cool and uncool. It is our way.

SPOCK: Highly illogical.

ROCKY: Excuse me?

SPOCK: First, if you Escalbians can create a simulation of so-called "cool" and "uncool" beings,  it follows logically that you understand the concept. Secondly, trial by combat is only a test of survivability--a test of a single factor, hardly a definition of essence. Thirdly, in terms of sample base, this is a single trial beset with highly random factors and...

ROCKY: Well taken, Mr. Spock. We Escalbians have a saying. Go fuck yourself.

FONZ: Same to you, rock.

ROCKY: Let the battle begin!

KIRK: (to the NERDS) Gentlemen …

The NERDS run away screaming.

KIRK, McCOY, SPOCK and the COOL ENTITIES sitting around a campfire.

FONZ: It’s quiet.

ELVIS: Too quiet.

FAT ELVIS: Do some singing man.

ELVIS: Now you're talking!

ELVIS, FAT ELVIS and FONZ all leap up. ELVIS snaps his fingers ...

ELVIS: And a one, and a two, and a ...

BILL GATES steps around a rock formation holding a white flag.

GATES: Hi ... everybody I hope I’m not bothering you. Please don’t hit me.

KIRK: I’m not going to hit you.

GATES: (to Kirk) OK. Uh. Wow, I’m such a fanboy … But. Well. We have something in common. Not dying would be the common subset. Thus, negotiations would be appropriate.

KIRK You were notorious, Mr. Gates, for striking at your enemies in the midst of negotiating with them. (rock bounces off his forehead) Ow!

GATES: That wasn’t me.

FONZ: Pants on fire.

GATES: Well, history was written by those stupid Apple commercials. I don’t look good in a turtleneck ... and they make me feel like I'm being strangled. Can we talk?


FAT ELVIS: (getting up) Hell, I’ll talk to the little runt. Work something out, man. You got any pills?


FAT ELVIS: Well let’s talk anway.

FAT ELVIS follows BILL GATES around the rock formation.

A few seconds later ...

FAT ELVIS: (O.S.) Hey, man stop that shit. Yeooowww . Goddamn that hurts. You little peckerwood. You some kinda? Owwww. Hey, man, somebody help!

KIRK and pals get up to help FAT ELVIS. ELVIS stops them.

FAT ELVIS: (O.S.) Hell, ain't even Ann Margret touched there ... no .. Eeeeeeeeeeeyowwwww!

ELVIS: Uh-huh. That ain’t cool. Man. Ain’t no way Elvis yelling out like a little girl. Even old fat Elvis.

FAT ELVIS: Eeeeee (rising in pitch) EEEEEEEE!

FONZ: Well, whoever he is, he needs help.

They all grab sticks and rocks and run around the rock formation.

On the other side they see  --

FAT ELVIS standing right as rain.

FAT ELVIS: Hey, man. I’m just messing with you cats.

ELVIS: You got me good, Fat Elvis.

FAT ELVIS: Heyuhuh, you know. Anyhow, me and this here fella, we made us a deal. We got us a band, man. 2Es and the Fonz -- this squirt's gonna manage. Hitting the space road. You in?

FONZ and ELVIS nod, hell yeah, ayy, agree.

GATES: More to the point, The Microsoft Corporation now owns exclusive marketing rights to the operating system to Escalbia.

ROCKY: What? Why?

GATES: (holding up legal document) This.

ROCKY: A piece of paper?

GATES: (holding up another piece of paper) A court order.


FAT ELVIS: Got us a lawyer, man.

A ROCK ENTITY lawyer gives ROCKY the finger.

ROCKY: This court order. What does it ... say?

GATES: Well. (clears throat) "Due to copyright infringement via duplication of intellectual property of The Estate of Bill Gates in the creation of Bill Gates Entity (and proprietary knowledge of Microsoft products in mind of said entity) created from memories stored in minds of 24th-century humans, said action taken without consent or prior notification of said humans, it is the judgment of this court that, for payment of compensatory and punitive damages, Microsoft Industries (deemed, on basis of "Recreation of Bill Gates by Aliens" clause in The Estate of Bill Gates title document), to be henceforth exclusively both owned and represented by Bill Gates Entity, (as both actual and corporate person) operating in perpetuity through any and all afiliates, shall be granted all legal title, past, present, future and hypothetical, to reality-generating substrate of planet defined as "Escalbia," as well as all representations, demonstrations and future marketing rights."

ROCKY: In plain English, you little shit!

GATES: It’s my planet now. Get off.

ROCKY: That’s uncool!

ROCK ENTITIES drag ROCKY away. "Rock around the Clock" starts playing again. ROCK ENTITIES, "Star Trek" away team and recreated dweebs and pop icons all start dancing.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Hogans Heroes -- What Really Would Have Happened

A German army truck pulls up, the back covered with a flap. General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter of the Gestapo emerge from the front cab. They confront Colonel Klink, Sergeant Schultz, and five American POWs – the show’s lead characters -- who, for no logical reason, are all standing in front of the commandant’s office.

HOCHSTETTER: What are these men doing here?

BURKHALTER: Bad writing. What do you think?

KLINK: General Burkhalter. It is a pleasure to see you!

BURKHALTER: The feeling is not mutual, Klink. Are you good at math?

KLINK: What?

BURKHALTER: Your mathematical skills. How are they?

KLINK: Well ...

HOCHSTETTER: Colonel Klink tested 47% percentile at Krautschmuck University. He flunked Probability and Statistics. Twice.

BURKHALTER: You see? The Gestapo is very thorough. Tell Colonel Klink more surprising math facts.

HOCHSTETTER: Within a fifteen kilometer radius of Stalag 13, the incidence of sabotage is 798% greater than the statistical norm within comparable areas of the Third Reich.

KLINK: I am sure there is an explanation.

BURKHALTER: Yes. You are either incompetent or a traitor.

Pulls out Luger -- shoots him.

SCHULTZ: I know nothing!

BURKHALTER: I will carve that on your tombstone.

Shoots him.

BURKHALTER: Guards! Schnell!

A squad of Waffen SS bursts out of the back of the truck, form a line and aim ugly automatic weapons at Hogan and his heroes.

HOGAN: You can’t kill us. That’s against the Geneva Convention.

BURKHALTER: The Geneva Conention can kiss my fat Aryan ass. Oh wait. I forgot. You are all spies. According to the Geneva Convention, I can shoot you. Watch.

LEBEAU: (holding out a streudel) I baked a streudel.

Burkhalter shoots him. LeBeau drops the streudel. Falls.

BURKHALTER: As for the rest of you ...

HOGAN: I'm not afraid to die for my country.

KINCH: Speak for yourself, motherfucker. It’s your fucking country. You die for it.

BURKHALTER: Ah. You Americans misunderstand me. We’re not going to kill you. We’re going to torture you slowly, extract information, break your spirits, and use you swine to send disinformation to the Allies. (shouts) Take them away. We can still win this war. Heil Hitler!


The Guards strongarm and rifle-butt Hogan and his heroes into the truck. The truck drives away. Burkhalter picks up streudel. Sticks his finger in and eats it.

BURKHALTER: Mmmm. Good streudel!