Threatening Cockney gangster speech

Look, I'm a simple man. All I want is everything I want. That's all I ever wanted. Now, either you give me exactly what I want. Or I shall give you exactly what you don't want. And believe me, you don't want that. Seen from this perspective, what you want and what I want identical, in't it?

The Google Hymn

(to the tune of "Yes, Jesus Loves Me.")

I'm no dumbass. Facts I know!

That's 'cause Google tells me so.

Seven dwarfs and seven sins.

Director’s names. Word origins.

Yes, Google tells me. 

Yes, Google tells me.

Yes, Google tells me.

The shit that I don't know.

Paraguay’s capitol. Asunción

The atomic weight of Lithium.

That actor who was in that thing.

Composer of “Gimme that Ding.”

Yes, Google tells me. 

Yes, Google tells me.

Yes, Google tells me.

The shit that I don't know.

The Church of Low Expectations

Imagine an ***hole. (The personality type, not the sphincter.) Now, imagine a human with a sense of humor. The two are mutually exclusive.
This is not to say many comedians aren't boiling with an inner sense of rage and, like the Incredible Hulk, apt to turn into googly-eyed rage monsters, sometimes on stage, sometimes not. (Bad for your health, I should add. Blows out vessels in the brain and shit.) But such explosions are rare -- a violation of their normal sanguine nature. Comedians can turn into assholes, yes. But only for brief periods of time.
Comedians don't feel entitled. Well, to anything except laughter and constant adoring attention. But, other than that, comedians don't feel entitled. They expect to get screwed over. They expect people to fall short. Hey, it's material.
Comedians don't walk around with a sense of perpectual outrage. The waiter fucked-up. What an idiot. But you don't want to actually kill the waiter and burn down his house. You don't want to teach the waiter the error of his ways. Prop his eyes open like Alex in a Clockwork Orange and make him see the light. Watch endless movies of his lousy service while a lab coat wearing tech medicates his unblinking eyes until...
"Yes, yes I see it's wrong, wrong terribly wrong to judge diners by the way they dress. I shouldn't have ignored your table and kissed the ass of that gold-plated blowhard shouting his observations at that fawning party of ten! You would've tipped me twenty percent. I see it, now! Forgive me, sir. I repent of my sin. I'm cured, praise God!"
Yeah you might imagine it. You wouldn't actually do it.
It's too much trouble.
Comedians would make lousy prophets. They don't expect humans to be saints. Any idiot can see humans are greedy, lazy, self-centered, yattayatta. The comedian is not suprised. Some jerk acts like a hypocrite. General Patreaus screws his worshipful biographer. A politician covers his ass. Ohmygod, there's GAMBLING at Rick's Cafe Americain. You're suprised? That's what humans do. That's like saying, "Ohmygod the COYOTE is chasing the road runner. He's buying crap from Acme and having painful industrial accidents." Hey, he's a coyote. Get over it.
To a comedian, human flaws are funny. (Not to mention animal flaws.) In a perfect world, there'd be nothing to joke about. "Yeah, we're in heaven sitting on clouds and playing harps. It's really great. You come here often?"

Blasé, undecided independent

(to the tune of The Kinks' "Dedicated Follower of Fashion")

They seek me here.
They seek me there.
Their views are loud.
They want to share.
Politicians eager to convert me to their cause
'Cause I'm a blasé, undecided independent.

And so I fill my little mind
With punditry of every kind.
Tuning in to Amy Goodman. Switching to Glen Beck.
'Cause I'm a blasé, undecided independent.

Oh yes I am (oh yes I am), oh yes I am (oh yes I am).
I think I see both points of view quite clearly.
I'm so open-minded that my head feels rather light.
'Cause I'm a blasé, undecided independent.

Oh yes I am (oh yes I am), oh yes I am (oh yes I am).
There's one thing that I hate and that is shouting.
Come election day if they don't calm down I think I might stay home.
'Cause I'm a blasé, undecided independent.

Oh yes I am (oh yes I am), oh yes I am (oh yes I am).
I flit from Left to Right just like a butterfly.
Reading Ayn Rand on one day, Karl Marx the next
'Cause I'm a blasé, undecided independent.
I'm a blasé, undecided independent.
I'm a blasé, undecided independent.

White Heat Cereal

INT, CRAPPY APARTMENT — DAY

Black and white scratchy footage. Mr. Big (James Cagney) and Sugar (Audrey Totter) his platinum blonde gun moll sit at a table. There's a box of WHITE HEAT CEREAL (with a picture of a Colt 45 aimed straight at you) and a bowl. The Announcer is Humphrey Bogart.

Announcer: (OS) For a kill-crazy criminal on the run, there’s only one way to start the day. White Heat Cereal, with real film noir flavor!

Mr. Big pours cereal into bowl. The cereal is shaped like two X-es fused together.

Mr. Big: Say, it’s a double cross!

Announcer: (OS) Sure. Theres a double cross in every bite.

Sugar smirks.

Mr. Big: Say, what are you looking at?

Rams a grapefruit in her face.

Mr. Big: Now get me the morning paper. Make yourself useful.

She runs out of the room crying.

Mr. Big digs around in the cereal box.

Mr. Big: Say, where’s my prize? There's no prize in the box! I want my prize!

Sugar walks back in. Steely look in her eyes. Not sobbing anymore.

Sugar: Oh you do, huh?

Mr. Big: Yeah! I deserve it, huh? I wanna get what I deserve!

Sugar: Oh, you’re gonna get it all right. (sweetly) OK, honey. Close your eyes and get ready for a big surprise!

Mr. Big closes his eyes.

Mr. Big: Top of the world, Ma!

Announcer: (OS) Here’s your prize.

The Colt 45 on the cereal box shoots Mr. Big in the face.

The Announcer enters, puts his arms around Sugar's waist. 

Announcer: Say ... Looks like he didn’t finish his cereal.

Sugar: Too bad. It’s the most important meal of the day.

They share a laugh.

Sirens. (OS)

They run.

Righrander

EXT. DEFUNCT CARNIVAL PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Weird, yellowish lighting from Mercury vapor lamps. Scooby Doo stands by the Mystery Machine. Waits.

Whirring noise. (OS)

The Jetsons' hovercar glides down and lands on the parking lot. Judy and Astro are inside. Judy's driving, of course.

The hovercar's bubble top opens. Astro emerges. Judy starts to get out too, but he nods for her to stay back.

Astro walks up to the Mystery Machine, stops, confronts Scooby Doo.

Astro: Ry reep ry romises.

Scooby Doo: Ree roo.

Scooby Doo nods. Panel door slides open on the van. Shaggy emerges, roughly manhandling out a figure with a hood over his head. Removes hood. We see it's George Jetson.

Shaggy shoves George to the asphalt.

George: Astro!

George tries to run to his dog. Shaggy pulls a 45. George stops.

Shaggy: Stay out of this pal. (giggles) Like, hang back and watch the show.

Scooby Doo pulls out a wicked katana sword. Holds it forward in a classic stance.

Scooby Doo: Rets rinish ris.

Astro: Rait. Ree ron't rave roo roo ris.

Scooby Doo: Ro. Ree roo. Rin re rend, rere ran ree ronly rone.

Scooby Doo charges Astro with a samurai battle cry. Astro pulls out his own wicked katana. The two talking dogs fight. It's spectacular, take my word for it.

Astro cuts off Scooby Doo's head. A flash of lightning. Astro absorbs Scooby Doo's life energy with a scream, then collapses.

George: Let's go home, Astro.

George and Astro walk back to Judy, who's been waiting by the hovercar. Judy gives Astro a doggy treat. The Jetson family gets into the hovercar. The bubble top closes. It lifts off and glides away.

Now alone, Shaggy studies Scooby Doo's headless body.

Shaggy: Like, bummer.

The Great Truth Extinction

Announcer: 65 million years ago, a rogue asteroid slammed into what is now the Yucatan Peninsula.

CGI animation illustrates.

Announcer: (VO) The resulting explosion, ecological destruction and "nuclear winter" wiped out 97% of all dinosaur species.

CGI dinosaurs looking up with an "Oh shit" look in their eyes.

Blam.

Announcer: That's what they'd like you to believe. That's what we've all been taught. Only one problem. It's not true. The truth is far more disturbing, especially if you're a giant lizard.

Scary music.

Announcer: Sometimes government conspiracies can be far more deadly than a rock from space.

INT, DARK ROOM - NIGHT

Shadowy clip of huddled figures around a table plotting evil and smoking cigars.

Announcer: But sunlight is the best disinfectant.

Flare of light.

INT, DR. MANYAK'S LAB - DAY

Messy but charming lab. Announcer strides up to us. Dr. Manyak is sitting in the background surrounded by pop-culture cliche scientific props (bubbling flasks, a Tesla Ball, etc.) and a flat-screen display. Dr. Manyak has wild hair, like Einstein.

Announcer: Tonight on Connecting the Dots, we'll be sharing shocking new evidence that proves that a shadowy government conspiracy killed the noble dinosaurs. Here's an expert we found, Dr. Manyak, PhD and HMWB. He's wearing a lab coat and has diplomas on the wall. Some of them have Latin words on them. When the good doctor speaks, we listen. What do you have to say, doctor?

Dr. Manyak: The killer asteroid was scientifically impossible.

Announcer: There you have it. Dr. Manyak, a leading expert in his field, said the killer asteroid was "impossible." He said it. Scientifically speaking, assertion is proof. But please tell us more.

Dr. Manyak indicates graphic on flat screen.

DR. MANYAK: Consider the size of the so-called impact crater -- otherwise known as the "Chicxulub crater." (points to roughly circular graphic of crater on screen) As you can see, it has a diameter of approximately 10 kilometers. This would imply an iron-nickel object about the size of the Rock of Gibraltar.

Announcer: Was it the Rock of Gibraltar?

Dr. Manyak: No. Different rock, same size and mass, more or less. Now what do you think would happen if such an object were to strike the earth?

Announcer: You tell me.

Dr. Manyak: Well. Upon impact, such a superheated iron-nickel mass would have fused with melted silica deposits, creating metallic nodules embedding a glassy substrate below the point of impact. Obviously.

Announcer: (not following) Yes ... obviously.

Dr. Manyak. But nothing of the sort exist. In fact, no impact residue of any kind has been found whatsoever. Ever.

Announcer: Why has no impact residue been found?

Dr. Manyak: Why? (chuckles) Well, in terms of classic logic we call that, "Begging the question."

Announcer: How? What?

Dr. Manyak: Well, your very question contains the nested assumption that there was an impact. Why would you assume that?

Announcer: I ... I don't know.

Dr. Manyak: There was clearly an explosion. But why assume that it was created by an object from space? Clearly, this hypothesis doesn't line up with the facts on the ground. But a thermonuclear explosion would. (points to screen) Ground zero would be here. Where the thermonuclear device was planted.

Announcer: But ... who planted the device?

Dr. Manyak: Ah. Now that's an intelligent question.

EXT, STONEHENGE - DAY

Announcer: And Dr. Manyak gave an intelligent answer. A very disturbing answer. As disturbing as the ritual of human sacrifice at Stonehenge. He also answered a question I didn't ask. What would've happened if the dinosaurs had never been destroyed?

Montage illustrates what Announcer says.

Announcer: (VO) According to Dr. Manyak, in this alternate timeline, the Velociraptors would have acquired language and tool-making skills, become peaceful, and adopted mammals as pets. Millions of years later, humans and dinosaurs would live together in peace in a utopia resembling the hippie school in "Billy Jack." The energy running this civilization? Sunlight and the flapping wings of butterflies. Sounds good, right? But, to a conspiracy of humans on Jekyll Island, this was too good to be true.

INT, CREEPY MANSION - NIGHT
A sign announces "Human League"

More creepy lab equipment. Two conspirators at work. Human scientists. The evil variety.

Evil Human Scientist #1: I've invented the H-bomb. If only we could send it back in time

Evil Human Scientist #2: You're not going to believe this. I've invented the time machine.

Evil Human Scientist #1: Screw the dinosaurs!

They high-five. Then send the H-Bomb back in time.

EXT, PARK, DINOTOWN - DAY - 65 Million Years BC
Barney watches little dinosaurs playing at the playground.

Barney: Gosh what a beautiful day. Nothing could possibly go wrong!

An H-Bomb vaporizes the city behind the park. Barney clutches the chain-link fence and is flash-fried like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2. Along with all the other dinosaurs.

INT, DR. MANYAK'S LAB

Announcer: But ... why would they kill the dinosaurs?

Dr. Manyak: Why? For the oldest reason in the world. Follow the money.

Announcer: The money?

Dr. Manyak: Yes. Think. What did the dead dinosaurs become?

Announcer: Oil?

Dr. Manyak: (knowingly) Oil.

Montage of evil oil wells as in World Party's "Ship of Fools" video. Montage concludes with --

EXT, SINCLAIR OIL GAS STATION

Slow zoom on old Sinclair Oil sign. Close in on dinosaur silhouette. Hold.