Frankenstein Rhapsody

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(to the tune of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody")

Is this real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in landslide,
No escape from reality.

Me open eyes,
Look up to skies and see,
Me just poor Monster, me need no sympathy,
Because me easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way wind blow, it not really matter to me, to me.

Doctor, me just kill girl,
Me drop her in well,
Not on purpose, but she fell.
Doctor, life had just begun,
But now peasants are chasing me away.

Doctor, ooh,
Didn't mean to kill your wife,
If me not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matter.

Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine,
Bolts aching all the time.
Goodbye, stupid peasants, me got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face truth.

Doctor, ooh (any way wind blow),
Me not want die,
Me sometimes wish me not wake up on slab.

I see a bigass Monster on the fritz,
Frankenstein’s creation, putting on the Ritz. 
Thunderbolt and lightning,
Very, very frightening me.
(Polidori) Polidori.
(Polidori) Polidori,
Me so sorry.
Magnifico-o-o-o-o.

Me just a Monster, nobody love me.
He’s just a Monster from a laboratory,
Let’s hunt him down, make him feel sorry.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Never let you go (Never, never, never, never let me go)
Oh oh oh oh
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh, Igor, oh Igor (Tell Doctor, let me go.)
Mary Shelley has devil put aside for me, for me, for me.

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can leave me to die out on ice?
Oh, Doctor, can’t do this to me, Doctor,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

(Ooooh, ooh yeah, ooh yeah)

Nothing really matter,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matter,
Cause there going to be a sequel
For me.

Any way wind blow.

Adolph Hitler, comedian

INT, Comedy Club, Berlin, 1933
Adolph Hitler walks on stage and takes the mic.

Adolph: Ja ... how many Germans are here tonight?

The Crowd ignores him, talks over him.

Adolph: Did you not hear me? 

The Crowd ignores him, talks over him.

Adolph: Then I shall speak louder. (shouting) How many Germans are here tonight?

Heckler: How many assholes?

The Crowd titters.

Heckler. I'm counting at least one.

The Crowd busts a gut.

Adolph: Stop laughing at me! (to the Crowd) I asked you before a question. I shall now repeat it for the third time! Who here is German?
Heckler: Who here gives a shit?
Adolph: Stop laughing at this man! 
Heckler: So ... where are you from, Charlie Chaplin?
Adolph: Austria! And my name is not ...
Heckler: Australia?
Adolph: Nein! Austria! Austria!
Heckler: Whatever. Either way, you're no freaking German, "Charlie."
Adolph: Nein! Germany is a race, not a ...
Heckler: Race? (turns over table) You wanna race? OK! Let's race!
Adolph: No, this is not what I ...
Heckler: (to the Crowd) OK, people. That asshole's the finish line. Aim for the mustache! Go!

The Crowd rushes the stage.

INT, MANAGER's Office

Hitler sits, bloody shirt, black eye. A piece of his mustache is torn. The Manager behind his desk regards him skeptically.

Manager: So, Mr. Schicklgruber ...
Hitler: Stage name. Please.
Manager: Fine. (sighs) Listen ... Adolph. Let's get real here. You're just not funny, man.
Hitler: No! That is a lie! I am funny! I am funny as an act of will!
Manager: No, you're not, kiddo. Listen. Why do you even want to do comedy?
Hitler: I ... I have a fear of public speaking.
Manager: In your case it's justified.
Hitler: (standing up in a rage) Are you insulting me?
Manager: Big time. Sit down.

Hitler sits. Suppresses a sob.

Hitler: As a professional man, you must understand my problem, hmm? I know you are right. I am not the funny man. But I sincerely want to be funny! How can I learn?
Manager: Learn? (scoffs) Listen, baby. You either got it or ...
Hitler: How can I learn???
Manager: OK, kid. I'm not supposed to tell you this but ... (whispering) Here's an inside tip. Try improv.
Hitler: What is this "improv" ...?
Manager: You make shit up and stay loose in the moment. No judgement, no control, no thinking. It's just what the comedy doctor ordered, baby. 
Hitler: Are you the comedy doctor?
Manager: You better believe it, pal—and here's my prescription. (hands Hitler a business card) Just go to this club. They'll teach you all the tricks. And your standup dreams will all come true.
Hitler: Ja ... (looks at card suspiciously) Are there Jews here?
Manager: In show business? C'mon.

Hitler grabs the Manager's hand, pumps it furiously.

Hitler: I can't thank you enough, sir. You shall not regret this!!

Hitler leaves. The Manager wipes his hand on his pants. His Secretary pops in.

Secretary: Improv? 
Manager: Yeah, that dive by the Bundesstrasse.
Secretary: They'll eat him alive, you know.
Manager: From your lips to God's ears.

Marty Fugate cartoon 8 • 26 • 2019

"All in the Family" redux

INT, BUNKER HOUSE, LIVING ROOM - DAY
Archie and Michael in two chairs. Alone. Talking.
Michael: We agree about more than you think, Archie.
Archie: The helluva it is, you’re right.
Michael: What?
Archie: Think about it, meathead. I’m a union man. I voted for Roosevelt and Truman, you snotnose college punk. I’m more liberal than you in a lotta ways.
Michael: You voted for Nixon.
Archie: Yeah, I did. Because I’m not a liberal.
Michael: Why not?
Archie: I hate liberals.
Michael: Why?
Archie: Superior attitude, that’s why. “Recycle. Be happy when your son puts on a dress. Don’t say this word or that word. Get out of Vietnam! Do this, do that.” It never ends with you liberals.
Michael: What never ends.?
Archie: The nagging, that’s what.
Michael: Nagging? Oh that’s great, Archie. You’ve reduced my concern for peace and social justice to “nagging.” Bravo. I’ll shut up from now on.
Archie: No, you won’t. It’s OK. You’re always telling us what to do, meathead. You’re a liberal, you can’t help it.
Michael: No. I stand up for my beliefs, same as you.
Archie: “Same as me.” You think I’m stupid don’t you?
Michael: What? What are you talking about?
Archie: “What are you talking about.” (scoffs) You know what I’m talking about, meathead. Can’t you be honest for once?
Michael: “For once…?” Come on, Archie! When have I not been honest?
Archie: Yeah, la-di-dah. Get a load of Saint Meathead, here. You cannot tell a lie.
Michael: You’re projecting, Archie.
Archie: Oh yeah?
Michael: Yeah.
Archie: So what am I projecting?
Michael: I have absolutely zero idea, Archie.
(They both burst out laughing)
Michael: Yeah … Listen, Archie. (laughs) I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Seriously. I’m in the dark here. (laughs) Honestly.
Archie: (laughs) “Honestly” my ass.
Michael: What? Come on, Archie. Where’s this hostility coming from?
Archie: Where? (lights cigar) See? That’s the trouble with all you liberals.
Michael: What liberals? I’m counting one liberal in the room, Archie. It’s just you and me.
Archie: That’s a smart thing to say, Michael. Really smart. See … I’d never think of that.
Michael: I never said …
Archie: No. But you think I’m stupid, right?
Michael: No! J …
Archie: Just uneducated maybe? Unenlightened? Prejudiced?
Michael: You’re twisting my words around, Archie. I don’t think you’re stupid.
Archie: OK, fine. I’m not stupid. You say so, who am I to argue?
(They shake hands. Michael breathes a sigh of relief.)
Archie: You don’t think I’m stupid. But you do think you’re smart.
Michael: Arggggh!!
Archie: Come, on Michael. Admit it. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You think you’re smart, right?
Michael: Right.
Archie: “Right.” Spoken like a typical liberal. I rest my case.

The Wizard of Oz. What was he thinking?

Kansas, early 20^th century. You’re a balloonist and a hard-working circus professional. Due to an unfortunate balloon malfunction, you wind up in the Land of Oz—a weird alternate reality where magic actually works. Power in this cockamamie place is divided between two good witches and two bad witches. Seeing as how you’re not from around here, your position is insecure. So you start thinking fast. And you adapt, like you always do. With the aid of pyrotechnics and projectors, you inform the locals that you’re a powerful wizard. The local yokels buy the grift, and they put you in charge of the whole place. You spend your time hiding out in a castle and keep your head down.

Then one day, this teenage farm girl shows up from Kansas. Dorothy, Dolly, something like that. With her dog, yet, and three shell-shocked rejects from the Land of Oz. Believing you’re a powerful wizard and all that crap, Diana or whatever asks you to send her home. The other specimens have their own requests. Truth is, you can’t help them. Hell, you can’t even send your own sorry-ass home. You can't admit that s***, obviously. It’d blow your whole act. But that’s the least of your problems. Seems like the Wicked Witch of the West has a beef with these chumps. Unlikely as it may seem, this cute little girl in pigtails killed her sister. The green-skinned Witch saw red. And followed these mouth-breathers all the way here trying to kill them. Long story short, Dottie or Debbie’s brought the Wicked Witch of the West to your doorstep. What to do?

You know what to do.

After a terrifying pyrotechnic display, you say, “Sure, kid. I’ll help you. But you have to do something for me first.”

That something?

“Bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Kill the b****, in other words. Morality aside, the prospect of success is highly unlikely.

It’s basically liked saying, “Bring me Stalin’s machine gun. Bring me Hitler’s luger.” You get the idea.

Once they get it, these rubes will run screaming. They’ll come back with a Munchkin mob to string you up. Had to happen someday.

But the suckers buy it. They head out after the Wicked Witch armed with a bug spray gun, a net, and a peashooter.

Problem solved.

Time Travel with Melania Trump

My Dinner with Ahab