As the Patriot Acts: Episode 1

(The Oval Office. Enter George Bush, The President of the United States of America, carrying a Jack-in the-Box with his picture on the side of it. He sits at his desk and the box pops open, revealing the figure of Jesus.)

George (singing, bobbing head, smiling ): Jesus loves me, yes I know/ for Joel Osteen told me so/Big Business is on my side/So I should just enjoy the ride...(sighs, looking up) God, Jesus is great. (looks at computer, reaching his hand out to rub it). But I wanna go online and Google Jenna Jameson. Maybe I shouldn't, though. I guess that's what I get for monitoring Google. Now I can't search for bush.

(Enter Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, carrying a model of an oil tanker with "Altair Voyager" printed on its side, which has been partially hacked away and painted over with her name in big red, white and blue letters. A toy missile has been duct taped to its deck. She sweeps her arm across his desk knocking George's Jesus-in- the-Box to the floor and places her oil tanker in its place.)

Condoleezza: George, we need to talk.

George: What Weezy? (He laughs, slapping his knee.)

Condoleezza: Uh, George! I have told you we have to get a handle on this whole Lebanon//Iran/North Korea/Cuba/ situation. And don't call me Weezy. I don't know why you love that show so much. I have serious suspicions about Tom and the English guy. That kind of thing shouldn’t be publicized.

George: Dang, Condi! You know I am against homosapien sex. Especially with the English. That's really gay. Besides, I like the theme song. (hums theme to Sanford and Son instead) What got you all Angela Davis? And by the way, remind me who is she again.

Condoleezza: We don't have time to review your Historical Figures for Dummies In Office book. These countries are not cooperating. And I won't stand for it! There's an oil tanker named after me, for God's sake.(waves toy tanker in the air)

George: I thought Chevron changed the name on it?

Condoleezza: Whatever! My name was on it first. That shows that I am an international woman of substance and that substance is oil. Although I do have a soft side. For instance, I knew the Birmingham Four. They were my good friends and their memories---

George: Yeah, yeah, I've heard it. Save it for your "I'm So One With All the People After the Office" tour. Right now, we are in charge and unbombed. We have to stick together. What do you perpetrate we do?

Condoleezza : Well, let’s start with Lebanon. This is going to take some work. Possibly blackmail. Possibly the threat of Michael Bolton and Nicolette Sheridan touring the Middle East. My sources tell me they recorded a new duet which is being played non-stop at Guantanamo Bay. But if we can get Lebanon to back our fight against Hezbollah, such a drastic measure won’t be necessary. Our countries we will forge a formidable presence in that region because we are strictly business, kind of like that Puff guy and his family (coughs, takes deep breath, then sings as Bush bobs his head): "Only female in my crew, and I kick shit"(pauses; looks pained.) Sir, I would really rather change that to "poop", cursing is so undignified. And am I suppose to be singing something by them or the Partridge family? I can't possibly be expected to keep all this popular culture straight and keep up with foreign policy problems---

George: (slams hand on desk) Dang, Condi! Even I know one's so 1997 and one's so 1970. They're two different auras. You got to keep your trends straight. That's why I told you to spice up your image. That's what matters to the public. Not any of this foreign policy dookie. That's just for us. The public don't care what a smarty pants you is. What does Dick say?

Condoleezza : He said that he wishes his daughter didn't enjoy hunting as much as he does. He also said he is more worried about Iran and that we should squeeze in some military action between one of his corporate scandals. I agree we cannot let Iran gain an upper hand with nuclear weapons. However, I favor sanctions first---

George: Now, Condi, you know we don't serve Sanka in the Whitest of all Houses---

Condoleezza: No, Sanctions! Sanctions... sometimes even I can't believe I voted for you. (She puts her head in her hands, looking defeated)

George: Well, I'm glad you did because I heard that the first time around, most people didn't. Can you believe that someone---maybe somewhere in Florida, who knows--- wouldn't like me? Laura felt so bad for me when the TV said I didn't win. I guess a paper said that, too. I don't keep up with all of that stuff. Thank God you're not a liberal, or I wouldn't have anyone to tell me whether to have a war or a parade. (smiles) Thank God for Laura, too. She can be awfully horny bear and that keeps my overworked head from exploding---not my pecker, though (Laughs but his mood quickly changes as he stares at Condoleezza , remembering his night of passion with Laura. I thought about including a flashback for this sequence, but decided it would be too stomach churning. Condoleezza is remembering something, too, and averts her eyes nervously. If a camera were filming this, we'd have a close up of those soulless orbs. But we don't. So use your imagination. She's probably wearing power red.)

George (reaching across the desk and running his finger along the missiles on the oil tanker model) Ain't it funny how the shape of things that are important are all shaped like the one thing that is really really REALLY important? And I don’t mean a TV. (He raises his eyebrows lecherously, which he can't spell.)

Condoleezza: Sir, what on earth are you suggesting? Again?

George: Well, you know Curious George can be a horny bear.

Condoleezza: Curious George is a monkey.

George: That's ok, as long as he's horny. (He leans back in his chair, making monkey sounds and thrusting into the air.)

Condoleezza: (Pause. Through clenched teeth). Right. So when you are through humping air, do you think we can have an adult discussion about Lebanon or Iran or...anything?

George (jumping up and waving his arms wildly) I don't wanna be an adult, except just for the drinking age! And the being old enough to surf porn age! I don't want to deal with big problems all day. People are always asking me what I think and I am not even thinking of anything ‘cept beer or boobies or boobies floating in beer. I wanna surf MySpace and see what people really think of me. Besides there's this one girl who writes sex stories ALL DAY and thinks my name is really Colin---

Condoleezza: Sir---

George:---Ferrell! I bet you thought I was gonna say the Colin that used to work for us. (laughs)

Condoleezza: First of all, that was Colon Powell, not Colin. Spelled the same, pronounced differently. You must have heard that story he tells about the war hero--- God know he brings it up every chance he gets. And second, you are forcing me to act as if I am your superior, which I am intellectually, but in no other way. You need to focus!

George: (pacing) Colon? ( stands still) Colon? Who names a kid something that helps you pee? God! I never knew. (begins pacing again) Thank God you know so much. Man you're right, you're right. I knew there was a reason that I put you on my team and it wasn't just to convince black people that I like them. (grabs her) Yes, yes--- you tell me what to do. Dick is not here.

Condoleezza: (thinking to herself) Yes, that Dick acts like he's the big rooster. God, I love my word play. He wouldn’t be able to do anything if Rumsfeld ever left the bunker. Wimp. (aloud) First, we have to force Iran to comply with the IAEA.

George (Nods head, trying really hard to focus). Right. Now are they anything like the U-N-I-C-E-F because those people scare me---

Condoleezza: Never mind what they're like! Just leave everything to me. You go along with what I say and we can put that missile of yours to use. And by missile, I mean an actual weapon, not that little matchstick you've got between you legs.

George: OK. Sounds good. But don't tell Laura I put matches in my pants again. I like the way they make my toots smell.

***

(Golf course in Arlington. Former President George "Papa" Bush is driving a golf cart with former President Bill Clinton sitting next to him, smoking a cigar. Papa Bush stops just short of a tree. Bill lurches forward, grabbing his seat in time to keep from falling out of the cart, then he stands.)

Papa Bush (parking) Can't see anything anymore. So you really believe I should give Bar a cigar?

Bill (selecting a club): Oh, no doubt about it, Papa. You give her one of those with another pearl necklace and she'll never want to leave the house again. And that's kind of the idea, isn't it? (Bill laughs, teeing up.)

Papa Bush: (practicing swing): Yep, that's the idea. I'll do anything to get her off my back. Anything. Even give her a cigar to shut her up. Yep. She's always talking about the tango being the "dance of love". She’s kinda weighing me down, yeah. You know how that is---whether your old ball and chain is a Republican or a Democrat or a goddamned Independent, they all weigh you down. Yep.

Bill: Yeah, especially once they've pulled “your” lever a few times. (laughs). Ohhhh, yes. That's so true, so true. (Pause. Purses lips in a smile while making a fist) But I'll tell you something, Papa Bush. Once you have done your woman---or any woman--- in the Oval Office (Papa Bush does a double-take) it doesn't matter which green on the course you were aiming for because in the end, we're all just rich golfers that sunk the ultimate hole in one. (He bites down on his cigar and swings.) Except for Carter. He never plays along. Doesn't understand the fundamentals of golf, as it were. (winks)

Papa Bush: Boy-oh-boy you got that right. Nothing kills a good golf game like Jimmy Carter. (He swings and the ball slices to the woods. He stomps his foot.) Can't see anything anymore!

Bill: That's a good thing. At your age, if you can't see the ladies, it makes it easier to offer them a cigar without being picky. You can’t be too picky, that’s for sure. Just because you are President doesn’t mean you’ll get the crop of the cream. I learned that with Paula. That lesson doesn't make you a better golfer, though. (He slaps Papa Bush's back, laughing. Papa Bush joins in as they put away their clubs and climb back into the cart.)

Bill: Ahhh, yes. I'm telling you, I love this life. What do you say we grab a few at the clubhouse?

Papa Bush: Drinks?

Bill: No---interns!

Papa Bush: (chuckles) Right, right. Oh, yes, you sure are a funny Democrat. I am learning to appreciate your fine sense of humor, though I am still not sure about your taste in women every being acceptable. (Pauses, wiping sweat from brow)Bar sweats like a pig when she tangos...(Goes pale and quiet) It’s sure going to be hard to get Barbara to smoke a stogie. She is as bad as your ole ball and chain about that. Hee, hee. Yep. Guess I was right on the money about that "women are alike no matter what party they register with" thing. (They laugh) So, what brand of cigar should I start Bar out on?

Bill: (pause) You do know that we aren't talking about an actual cigar?

(They drive away, almost hitting a cameo by Jack Nicklaus, who flips them a bird. A golf ball flies out of the woods, followed by a Not So-Mysterious (HINT) Blond Woman wearing a (HINT) ridiculously short skirt and rubbing the top of her head. She smirks, picking up a golf bag and hoisting it across her (HINT) really, really, really bony back.)

Not-So-Mysterious- Blond-Woman: (to herself): The (HINT)"fundamentals of golf", indeed. I'll show you who must learn the fundamentals of golf and treason, Mr. Clinton. (HINT) I wrote the article and the book on both. (Oh, come on, that gave her away!) You were never my President, but I'll rule you.

***

(Condoleezza Rice is in her kitchen, dressed in a flowing silk gown and robe. She paces nervously, sipping from a wine glass. Enter Secret Service Agent.)

Agent: Madame Secretary, The First Lady to see you.

(Enter Laura Bush, dressed in a stunning black raincoat. She stops in the middle of the room, fumbling with the belt on her coat.)
Condoleezza (She sips from her glass.) How are you? It's been a long time since I've seen you in… private. I think the last time was Liberia.

Laura: (nodding) I am…well. (smoothes hair) A little wet.

Condoleezza: Well, that's what you get for going out in the rain. What is it your husband says---any Dubai port when it rains?

Laura: That's not fair. You know he doesn't know his cliches.

Condoleezza: He knows enough to know they make you wet…especially if he monkey humps you while saying them.

Laura: His watered down cliches don't make me wet, although the idea of monkey humping does kind of make me tingle. Oh, God, I can’t control myself, Condi----it's you! (Rips open raincoat to reveal a skimpy feathered lime green negligee with leopard spots) Look at me----I’m wild in the jungle! (She lets out a tremendous roar, running her hands up and down her body) Here I am, the First Lady of the United States of America, all fifty-two states! And I should be happy with that. But no. I had to meet you, the perfect cliche!

(There is a very loud cough. The secret service agent shuffles his feet.)

Agent: Uh… those feathers and the roar killed it for me.

Condoleezza (Slamming wine glass on counter): Thank you. That will be all. (Agent exits.) Just who do you think you are? I have to deal with your husband and a trigger happy Vice President who is probably watching our every move. Dick hates me. You know that. He doesn't want me to have any say on Iran. I want to drag it out a bit before we go to war. That makes me look better. But Dick wants to attack them like he attacks the coleslaw at one of your diplomatic barbeques.

Laura (moving closer): But it's more than Iran. I mean I know that's a kinda of serious situation but... (Her eyes widen) It's because of her, isn't it? Dick is in contact with Reno and therefore knows about you. About us. Oh, God.

Condoleezza: I'm not sure what he knows. Listen: you know that Reno owns me. She has evidence of me and a drag queen that I thought was a real woman. She will release it to the news if I see anyone else. And even though she hates Dick, she loves that daughter of his. She will feed him info to get on her good side. My whole life is controlled by this. All of my cold authoritative heartlessness is being wasted, except for when I am alone with George. You've got to help me to convince him to continue doing what I tell him to do. The country will love me if I at least try to settle this Iran fiasco before we start bombing and it will lessen Reno and Dick's hold on me. Dick won't mess with a hero if it helps our approval rating, as long as he doesn't lose any money by playing nice. And I may be able to credit Janet with providing some kind of diplomatic overture, therefore giving her a return to the limelight. Hopefully, that will work out so she quits asking me to rub her feet. (She shudders, swallowing the last of her wine. If I had a bigger budget, I'd cue something by Tori Amos or for a really different twist, Kathleen Battle. But give me a break. I am an out of work writer, for crying out loud.)

Laura: Yes, we'll have to work on George and your image as well. George is pretty set on spicing you up. Did you try that song thing I told you about---the one the twins were watching on a VH1 Flashback show? The Tiny Kim girl that sang it looked very hard and what is it Dave Chappelel says… "mad nig---"

Condoleezza: Laura! You know I don't allow those words in my house!

Laura: What? "Mad nig---"

Condoleezza: ----No! “Dave Chappelle”! That man has said enough bad things about me. If I am ever President, I'm going to make his whole stand-up routine so unpopular that the NAACP would book Kathy Griffin over him. And besides, I look like a complete and utter fool when I attempt to be cool and "with it". I am only good with that kind of spontaneity when I plan it. (drinks)

Laura (Smiling as tears well up in her eyes): You really are a bitch, Condi. A beautiful calculating bitch who needs to tame this wild green feathered creature of Capitol Hill that sprouted from the sweet nourishing love juices of your rotunda---

Condoleezza (coldly): Neither one of us is Capitol Hill, Laura! (pushes her away)You better go. I can't start this. I am afraid we are being watched but I am even more afraid that when you are done with me, you'll go back to your husband. Just like he told me you did when he found out he didn't actually win the election.

Laura (Shakes head as she chokes back tears) You run hot and cold! I don't see why you can't let the past go. It's no different than you and Reno. I have to keep him satisfied and you have to keep her---

Condoleezza: It's not like that! We don't play "The Attorney General and the Secret Service Sex Slut" anymore. Like I said, I just rub her feet.

Laura (hissing): Liar! (They stare at each other as Laura puts her coat back on. Condi pours herself another glass of wine and rings for the secret service agent, who escorts The First Lady Out. Before he leaves, he turns to address the Secretary of State.)

Agent: I sure am glad she put that coat back on. Those feathers caused my feathers not to ruffle, if you catch my drift. And I must admit, I overheard her say, "sweet nourishing love juices" and almost pissed my pants---

Condoleezza: Never mind all that! Make sure she gets out of the house without trying to seduce one of the other agents. Again. And bring me my vibrator. All this policy talk has made me feel a great urgency to be buzzed.

Agent: Yes, Madame Secretary. Which one would you prefer to use?

Condoleezza: The one that's shaped like a missile, of course. It's taped onto the model of my oil tanker.

***

(The Virginia woods. Ted Nugent fires a gun, demolishing a can covered by a picture of Hillary Rodham Clinton's face. He replaces the can with one covered by a picture of George Clooney.)

The Nuge (And fuck YEAH, I'm calling him The Nuge): O Brother Where Art Thou? I'm Right Here Mutha-Fuc-KER! (blows can to smithereens)He's always run-nin' that mouth. And I still haven't forgiven him for Facts of Life. Gimme a Oscar for that, Buddy. And stick Susan Sarandon on it so I can lock it in my gun case. Rock and R-O-L-L, BUDDY! I clean her up like the rest of my guns, oh yeah. (sings) Got you in a stranglehold, baby...

(Dick Cheney sits on a log behind The Nuge, holding a roasted possum. A small fire smolders next to him. In front of the log is a small globe on which Dick rests his feet)

Dick: Ted. (The Nuge plays air guitar with his rifle) Ted. Ted, I want a fork.

The Nuge: Say no to drugs, fags, and fucking forks! A real man would just pick that up and tear it with his teeth. FUCK YEAH, I LOVE HUNTING IN THIS COUNTRY!!! (He fires his rifle while playing air guitar and begins shouting the Pledge of Allegiance,) Stand up, Dick. Stand up and put your hand over your FUCK-ING heart and show that red, white and blue some fuckin’ LOVE, Daddy!

Dick: (gnawing on meat) Ted. Ted, there's no flag here.

The Nuge: Fuck that, Dick! The flag is in your heart. Those colors run in your veins, man. I cum red, white and blue! I'd show you if it wasn't so damn queer! (He grabs the animal away from Dick, tearing into it like a caveman.) AHHHHHH, damn it's good to kill your meat. Huntin' and fuckin' that's what I'm talking 'BOUT.

Dick: Right, Ted. Hunting and fucking. (Pause. Swallows meat.) Have you given any thought to what we talked about at my last shooting lesson?

The Nuge: (turning completely serious) Now I told you not to shoot anymore lawyers, unless they work for the ACLU. I hope you listened to me, Dick.

Dick: (sighs) I am referring to your help with the situation in the Middle East. We need to light a fire under the ass of these lazy American teenagers that sit around on their couch all day---

The Nuge: (under breath) Lazy no hunting fucks...

Dick:---and if you sign on as a General, we can secure you as a shoe-in for the Secretary of Defense when the Republicans win the next election. We just have to get Condi out of the way, because she will never consent to having you on board. I am working on that. But we need someone outspoken and wild like you to rally the youth behind this war and future ones. She's not cool.

The Nuge: Condi doesn't like me? Why not? I'd fuck her.

Dick: Yes, well, I have a feeling there isn't a whole lot you wouldn't fuck Ted, including that possum you just roasted for me. So what do you say?

The Nuge: (pause) The Nuge says yes. But I have two questions. First, how can you make me a general? I never served.

Dick: (spins globe in hand) Because I am Dick Cheney. I will issue a press release that you have worked as a counter terrorist spy since the cold war, starting under Reagan, which included a top secret stint in the military that was covered up by your extensive touring. For that service you will be honored as an ambassador to a country that Angelina Jolie has never visited. Then, after shopping in a local Wal-Mart, you'll be inspired to make an impassioned pro-war speech in the parking lot. You'll be carrying your guitar and you will break into the national anthem. An off-duty FOX News cameraman will just happen to be buying a battery for his own personal video camera. He will hear your words and music and capture every bit of the spur of the moment capitalistic glory on said personal video camera. Within hours, you will be on every news feed in the world. And then you are a general, leading the young men of this country to vote for us. They tell their girlfriends to do the same. Everyone signs on for military service or works in a field that supports the war. And we produce weapons, take oil, and polish so many dusty burkas that our seed takes root and it becomes a vast region of supersizing warriors. (pause.)I would like my possum back. (The Nuge gives it to him) Now. What's your second question?

The Nuge: Do you think you can arrange for one of the twins to suck my dick or something? Seems like they would if I'm gonna be Secretary of Defense one day.

Dick: (biting the possum) I said I was Dick Cheney, not God. But I'll see what I can do.

The End

*Enjoy this: www.tednugent.com. God help us all.
*To P. Diddy and Ted Nugent, who I am sure are never going to read this: Please don't sue me for using your lyrics in my piece. I don't have any damn money anyway.
*Send all hate mail to me addressed as HATE MAIL so I know what to expect when I open it. Thanks!
*New Episode next Monday, August 14th.

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