Web-Rider Spotlight: Solo Rider

 I am the Web Rider Spotlight feature in the next RoadBike magazine!


Web-Rider Spotlight: Solo Rider

Apostate, but not apologetic.

When I was a kid, I had never heard of them. I never could have even conceived of them existing. I'm not really sure when I actually became aware of them, and certainly didn't know what they really were, what it meant to be one. And now, I am one.

I am an atheist.

My story starts out probably a lot like yours. I was born in the middle of America, on the northern edge of the Southern states. Christian churches were everywhere, and I went to one with my Great-Grandpa. I went Sunday School, to learn about Jesus, and Noah, and the fantastic story of Jonah being swallowed by the great fish. They called it a whale. We sang the songs about Jesus. 'Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so'. I was being raised to be a good Christian boy.

Then, something unexpected happened when I was about ten years old. Through some unusual circumstances, I suddenly was introduced to a man I didn't know. My father had come to claim me, and before I knew it, I was living in a strange place surrounded by mountains. I was in Utah.

That first Sunday morning in Utah came quick, and it was time to go to church. But it was not the Baptist church I was familiar with. It was something... different. Instead of maybe one hour of Sunday School like I was used to, there was about three to four hours of different services. They did peculiar things, prayed a little differently, and once a month, I wasn't permitted to eat all day, until late afternoon. This was my introduction to Mormonism.

There was a constant barrage of religion in my life now. Daily family prayers. Blessings at every meal. Additional church meetings. Baptism. We also sang the songs, but not the ones from my early Baptist life. As a impressionable ten year old, I soaked it up. All of it. It made me feel..special.
.
But when I started Ninth Grade, a new form of religious education also began. Seminary is part of every young Mormons education in Utah. In a small building just off the public school campus, they study the Bible and Mormon scriptures. This is where I read the entire Bible. The whole thing. Then I started reading the Book of Mormon. It did not click with me. Something just didn't feel right. The book didn't make sense. Mormonism was no longer making sense. This was the beginning of the end of Mormonism and me.

Not long after that, I left Utah for good. Back in my Illinois hometown, I start going back to my Baptist church, but even that doesn't feel the same anymore. The Mormon church found me in Southern Illinois. They wanted me to attend their meetings. I verbally resigned from the Mormon faith to the missionaries that tracked me down. As I found out later, that did absolutely no good. I focused on finishing my senior year of High School and then head to the Air Force.

In the Air Force Basic Training, I tried religion again. A chaplain convinced me to get baptized, this time as a Baptist. A local mega-church in San Antonio performed the baptism. But after basic training, I didn't attend church again for several years.

In my mid-twenties, I started wondering about religion again. I went to the library to research other religions, Judaism, Buddhism, even Wicca. What was right for me?

So I prayed. I started reading the Bible again, in earnest. What had made sense before, seemed ludicrous now. I prayed some more. No answers were forthcoming. Religion was dying within me. But it didn't leave a vacancy in me. I just moved on with my life.

I admitted to myself at that point that I did not believe in a god. More like a statement than an admission.


I kept a low profile. I wasn't yet that far removed from religion, so it was easy to blend in with the Christian majority that surrounded me. But, as the years go by, my patience with religion was wearing thin. I felt bullied, I was given hateful stares because I didn't bow my head during a prayer. The raised eyebrows when I decline an invitation to church. The religions that preach love quickly show their distaste and even hatred for the apostate.

Then the Mormons found me again. This time, they tracked me down at my employer. Sending religious materials and invitations to me at work. Again, I requested my name to be removed from their records.

As my atheism grew stronger, I studied the religions that pressed their views upon me. I looked for college level theology courses to help me understand religion and the religious mind, but every course I found locally was little more than a seminary or a chance for someone to preach their version of the Christian religion.

Enter Mormons. (Hopefully for the last time) Again they tracked me down.  Previously I had treated them with respect, chatted with them, told them I wasn't interested. This time, I wasn't so nice. I sent formal letters to the Stake President and to the LDS church officially requesting my name be removed permanently from their records or threats of legal action would be taken.

This time, I got a response. An official letter accepting my resignation. I was set free. After 30 years, my last tie with religion has been broken. I was elated.

I began to speak out. I feel no need to 'keep a low profile'. I don't parade a banner, but I stand my ground.

I've since discovered I'm not alone as an atheist. There are others out there, just like me. Some living quietly, some shouting it to the world. To all of the atheists out there, I applaud you.

My name is Frank, and I am PROUD to be an atheist.

Conversation with a Christian about marriage equality

I posted a thing on Facebook recently about marriage equality. I got this private message a day later.

Christian:
Truth is a power and reality in life; it is not a principle of the intellect or mere speculation. The reality of good is a moral element of truth. I am a Christian and I do not want to spark a conflict, however I do want to point out that if same sex relations are truth and everyone in the world has this point of view you have a end pf man kind. think about it....

Me:
There are always going to be homosexuals, just as there always have been for thousands of years. I just believe in equality for all. I am not a homosexual, and never have/will be. I believe that most are born that way, or in some case choose that path. It is not the end of mankind. Worldwide homosexuals of both genders equal ~2% of the worlds population. I would imagine that percentage has remained fairly constant. Your bloodlines are in no danger.

The Abrahamic religions are well known for their intolerance and even hatred for anyone that does not conform to their point of view. That is such a conflict of Christian teachings: 

"If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death" Leviticus 20:13
"Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:32

With all that being said, I am an Atheist. I do not require a religion to know what is right and wrong or have morals. Not treating another human as an equal is immoral, just as human slavery was immoral, yet your Bible encouraged it.

"Have I then become your enemy by telling you the truth?" Galatians 4:16

Christian:
Homosexual acts are an abomination to God. and if you have no god that is the reason you believe its ok however please think about your children and your grandchildren if your believes pass on to them you could never pass on your linage.

Bible says love your neighbor as yourself i do not hate homosexual's i just believe it is unnatural and can't ever be the truth. if it was truth and all were forced to be that way it would literally end man kind. therefor it can not be the truth.
Paul does not single out the homosexual as a special offender. He includes fornicators, idolators, adulterers, thieves, covetous persons, drunkards, revilers and extortioners. And then he adds the comment that some of the Christians at Corinth had been delivered from these very practices:

Me:
You are thinking in absolutes. There are no absolutes in life. Homosexuals are not trying to convert you, forcefully or otherwise. Let them live their lives their way as you live yours, your way. And who is to say what is natural and what is not? Is love not natural?

Christian :

However, to call a union of two persons of the same sex a "marriage" is a misnomer. In the Bible, marriage is a divinely ordered institution designed to form a permanent union between one man and one woman for one purpose (among others) of procreating or propagating the human race. That was God's order in the first of such unions (Genesis 1:27, 28; 2:24; Matthew 19:5). If, in His original creation of humans, God had created two persons of the same sex, there would not be a human race in existence today.A clergyman might bless a homosexual marriage but God won't..

I'm not mad at anyone, i care for you and your family, and the future generations. I just believed you were believing a lie and thought i might plant a seed of truth, study marriage, the root of the word study truth deeply without truth you have only opinions. You have created your own truth biased on your beliefs. i have mine you have yours please don't believe the lie and for goodness sake don't pass it on to your children or anyone else's children.  The root of the word rooted is radical become a radical in the truth.

Me:
Up to this point I have respected your personal religious views. You are trying to invoke Canon Law into a civil society. Yet ironically your Christian peers condemn Sharia Law.

You obviously lack the ability to not only think for yourself,  but beyond yourself. Your mind is closed to the evolving world around you.

I cannot believe in a religion that is based on myths, fables, and superstitions, as all of the thousands of religions before us.

This conversation is over. Join the other sheep and go talk to your imaginary friend in the sky.

A question of faith...

As self-proclaimed freethinker, humanist and atheist, I'm often asked why I don't have faith. I do, in fact have faith.

• I have faith in the skill and knowledge of my doctors when I require medical care. 
• I have faith in the love of my family. 
• I have faith religious zealots will start wars in the name of faith. 
• I have faith that I will be persecuted because I do not believe in supernatural beings. 
• I have faith that most of my readers will be offended because I have written this. 
• I have faith that tomorrow is indeed another day. 
• I have faith that there can be good in this world without a god. 
• I have faith that some will pray for me to find a god. 
• I have faith that missionaries will come to my door, and I polite and courteous.
• I have faith that I will never argue, fight, or kill over which god is the the better god.
• I have faith that the rains will fall and the sun will shine.
• I have faith that people will need comfort, and many will find comfort in religion.
• I have faith that tomorrow a person will look in the mirror and be ashamed of their past.
• I have faith that tomorrow a person will look in the mirror and commit to being a better person without expecting a reward. 
• I have faith that I am not the only one with these thoughts.

Rant on Capital One Credit Card: What's in your wallet?

Got a call from Capital One today telling me I owe a payment of $280. I told them my account was current and they said this was for the months of Aug., Sept and Oct. Today is Aug 11 and my due date for Aug. is 1st week of  Sept. They were trying to bill me MONTHS in advance AND add a late fee charge for a payment that was NOT EVEN DUE YET! Then they said they would "waive" the so-called "late fee" even though the PAYMENT WAS NOT LATE, and again, NOT EVEN DUE YET!

What's in your wallet?

Selling the Universe

Selling the Universe on Ebay

A few days ago, this posted on Twitter:

Never one to let a half decent joke go unflogged, I realised that it WOULD be possible to sell the universe. The answer was eBay.

I had used eBay to successfuly sell my battered Peugeot. The car was unreliable and the bodywork was held together purely by the good thoughts of its passengers, but I managed to get good money for it, so I reckoned I could use the same website to sell the entire universe.

I signed Death up to an eBay account and posted the advert on Wednesday morning.

By Thursday afternoon, it had been viewed over 21,000 times.

And the bidding had reached £999,999.00

I was a theoretical millionaire! (I have £1 on a Marks and Spencers gift card at home).

And then eBay, unsurprisingly, removed the auction.

Their email stated that “[my] listing didn’t offer a specific item for sale”.

That’s correct. I was selling EVERYTHING!

The dream died as quickly as it was born.

So, I’d like to thank everyone who joined in with the spirit of the exercise, though I’m not entirely sure what that spirit actually was.

I’m sure Death has a future in PR and marketing. He certainly has the knack.

Finally, people have asked for the full item description and the Q&A’s, so here they are:

“Due to an increase in running costs in these times of financial hardship, the decision has been taken to put the entire universe up for auction.

At 13.7 billion years old, it is in need of some modernisation. There are some black holes, but these can be sorted with a lick of magnolia paint. Though it’s quite roomy, we’d suggest knocking through an extension into a parallel universe.

Included in the sale:

30 billion trillion observable stars. We think there may some more in the attic. If we find them, we’ll throw them in.

Indeterminate number of planets – Some rocky. Some gas. One – interestingly – made entirely of nougat.

Life in all its form and splendour. And Chris Moyles. Sorry.

Full deeds and meaning of life written on the back of a cigarette packet.

Instructions. (Please note that Quantum Mechanics was built on a Friday. Some of the bits are the wrong way round).

Would suit Pan-Dimensional Overlords of unspeakable horror.

Please note that the photo is not to scale. Buyer collects.”

Q. I myself am a restaurant owner. I hear there’s a rather nice restuarant at the end of the universe. Would the purchase of this item enable me to change the entire menu to something unpallatable (possibly made by Jamie oliver) to help boost my own business?

A. Are you a Scooby Doo villain? Can I interest you in a theme park?

Q. Hiya!! i say im most interested!! but does this include TIME and PARADOXICAL events, i’d hate to win then find some snotty nosed
sprat won it from me when we were at School making silly bets!!
Thankz most awfully, all zee best!!!
Yours, Delusions Of Grandia

A. Don’t worry. All time is linear. The only way what you suggest could happen is if you existed at all points in history simultaneously. Only Bruce Forsyth can do that and he’s happy with just his knighthood.

Q. Hi, God here (but my friends call me Jehovah). This listing was bought to my attention by Gabriel, what makes you think this is yours to sell? I created it a despite what the book says it took more than 7 days and i own the patent on creation as a whole. You will be hearing from my lawyers Lucifer & Sons and by the time they have finished you wont even have a soul left although if the bidding goes much higher i might consider splitting the money.

A. There’s quite a few of you claiming to be God and, quite frankly, that’s where all of humanity’s problems started.

Q. If the stars move around during transit will it affect my destiny? I’m a Cancerian and could do with making a few life changes.

A. I don’t believe in astrology. I’m a very sceptical person. Typical Leo.

Q. Paradoxically speaking, will the Universe fit in the back of my Galaxy?

A. Mind. Blown.

Q. Regarding your sale of the universe. The current bid is £112. If I was to offer £113 obviously I’m guessing you’ll not be including the part of it I already own. Therefore if we take the price as £113 and subtract of my property (less the total outstanding on my mortgage) would it be fair to just give me the universe and about £60,000?

A. I haven’t thought this through, have I?

Q. Does it include Life and Everything? If not, do you have them and how much? It’s Life I’m particularly interested in I really need to get one.

A. YOU need to get a life? I cannot throw any stones in that particular glass house.

Q. Sorry, you list its age as 13.7 million years old when I’ve got a very respected source next to my bed that says it is a little over 6000 years old. Can you please explain this discrepancy? And if you are in the right, does this mean I can start w*nking again?

A. If Brian Cox says it’s 13.7 billion years old, that’s good enought for me. Knock yerself bandy.

Q. Can you tell me the sell by date on the moon cheese please? Also, if any other planets are made of cheese it would be good to know their sell by dates too. I’ve been caught out before buying cheap products that are out of date.

A. There’s no such thing as moon cheese. That’s just silly.

Q. It’s not apparent from your description who the manufacturer is and thus where replacement parts/repairs can be obtained. Can you shed some light on this?

A. Confirming the manufacturer details in public would mean revealing which is the one true religion and, quite frankly, it’s not a competition.

Q. Does this item come supplied with the full compliment of dimensions necessary for operation? Don’t worry if not, i’m sure i can grab a few counterfeit dimensions from china.

A. We’ve hidden a 7th dimension somewhere. See if you can find where we put it. I think you’ll be surprised.

Q. Hi, could you confirm that you have the original blueprint and/or the V5 document. Also do you happen to have the Haynes manuel?

A. I don’t have the original blueprints or manual, but I’ll supply a Haynes manual for a 1984 Rover 213. The principles are pretty much the same except the Rover’s starter motor is a bit less reliable.

Q. How many previous owners ?

A. Depends on your theological outlook. For all we know, we could all be the figment of Charlie Sheen’s imagination.

Q. Do you know if there are any disputes with the neighbours? and do the Coal Board still own all the mineral rights?

A. I’d watch out for Universe #16453. It’s a real party universe.

Q. I’m having a hell of a problem with my onions this year. I suspect there is a better place to grow them, just the other side of Ursa Minor. Can you confirm that there is a planet there where the soil is quite sandy rather than just another of those bloody ice planets.

A. I know it’s a gas planet, but my advice would be Saturn. You’d produce some very good onion rings. (What am I doing with my life?)

Q. Is it in good condition or held together by string?

A. Any cracks have been packed full of “dark matter” (Actually, Marmite).

Q. Can you tell me the number of dimensions, something I’ve been wondering for some time? S. Hawking.

A. Think of the biggest thing you can. No, bigger than that…. No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, too big. Start again.

Q. Is there a facility to switch off the inevitable Brian Cox narration?

A. If you win the auction, you will be able to limit Brian Cox staring meaningfully into the distance while stood on a mountain to once a week.

Q. How much would your BIN price be, strictly *without* Chris Moyles?

A. Personally, I can take or leave Chris Moyles. If you win the auction, though, you have to take him.

Q. Not sure about the expansion. It looks like it’s mostly empty space. What if I used a vacuum bag to store it? Would that damage it?

A. It may look empty, but it’s full of dark matter. And all at no extra cost to you, the consumer.

Q. I am a little considered that on becoming the owner of the universe a number of law suits might be made by its occupants on the basis that ‘its not fair’ , along with damages for earthquakes, thunderstorms, etc. Can you please let me know whether the seller is prepared to indemnify the buyer against all legal actions relating to previous ‘natural’ disasters. Of course any disasters after the purchase would rightly be the responsibility of the buyer.

A. I’d recommend you get yourself some good legal advice. I don’t think Ryan Giggs’ lawyers are up to anything at the moment.

Q. I’m interested but I notice that you say buyer collects. Will it fit in the back of my hi-roof Ford Transit, or will I need to fold it in half?

A. Actually, it’s expanded a bit more since you asked the question. Might need a long wheel based Mercedes.

Q. Does this purchase include dominion over all living beings? – Liam

A. If you can get them to do a bloody word you say. Good luck with that.

Q. Is it possible to get any discount, due to the damaged caused by the likes of creatures such as Parallax?

A. You’re more than welcome to inspect it, but I don’t want any “tyre kickers”.

Q. Can you please provide the exact width and length so I can work out whether it will fit in the back of my car. It’s a Ford Fiesta, but it’s got plenty of boot space when I fold the seats flat.

A. Its constant expansion means you’d probably be better off getting a Transit.

Q. Before buying the Universe, I wanted to know, what type of expansion is present within the Universe, in that is it Open, Closed or Flat? I’d like to know as this could drastically affect the resell value of this Universe.

A. Oh… Erm… I’ll have to go and check the packaging. Or Wikipedia.

Q. Hiya – I am having a bugger of a job finding a present for the missus 40th quite happy to collect, but can you gift wrap it please?

A. What a lovely husband you are. Yes, I have some string theory that should tie it all together nicely.

Q. Would it be possible to courier this? I don’t have anything big enough to pick this up. Also, is there any guarantee? I mean, I don’t want it breaking down within a few days. Or exploding

A. The rate of expansion should mean that there’s no explosion. I’d keep an eye on Betelgeuse, though

Q. Is hell included in the sale price? Are you able to arrange a courier?

A. By ‘hell’ do you mean Clacton-on-Sea? If so, yes.

Q. If I pay postage can you package and send? I know it says collect in person, but I am a really lazy person and would rather you did all the hard work and someone just plonked it on my lap. I am sure you have a box laying around it will fit in.

A. I once bought a memory stick from Amazon. The ridiculously large box they sent it in should be big enough.

Q. I’ll pay double if you keep Chris Moyles. Deal?

A. Sorry. I’m not splitting the items.

Make Work Pay Credit

I am SOOO excited...I got my first paycheck today with the "Make Work Pay" credit in it. How much will I get, ooh ooh, I can't wait to tear open that envelope. (tear, rip, shuffle)

Hang on, I thought we were supposed to get some extra money! Let's look a little closer- compare it to last couple of weeks checks...

Hey there it is! $10.23! Ten dollars and 23 cents. TEN DOLLARS AND TWENTY THREE CENTS!! What good is TEN BUCKS going to do for stimulating the economy? TEN bucks is equivalent to 25 cents an hour!

Barack, what makes you think that TEN DOLLARS a week is going to help me in this tight economy?

This soooo disappointing. Ten freaking bucks. What will I ever spend it on? (rolls eyes) Not enough to buy a car, not enough to fill up my gas tank, not enough to make a minimum credit card payment, and not enough to even pay the paper boy.

$10. Hmm, what can you get for ten bucks?
9 items from the Dollar Store. (don't forget sales tax!)
A really expensive coconut.
40 gumballs.
Couple gallons of gas and a soda.
Half of a lap dance.
High cholesterol, if you spend it on the Value Menu at McDonald's.
Cheap beer.
Rent a couple of movies.

Oh well. I'm gonna have think long and hard how I'm going to spend this windfall.

10 bucks...well it is ten more dollars than I had before. Yeah that's it!! I have $10 dollars more this week than I had last week! That $10 may just come in handy...

Obama's Stimulus Package

Are you one of the people who don't think the stimulus package is needed? Were things going just fine for you, or you don't think the Government should get involved with such economic issues? Or do you just want the entire country to fall to it's knees?

If you are one of those folks, Rejoice! I have the perfect plan for you so you can keep your concience clear and not appear in any way to support the Obama Stimulus Plan.

All you have to do is say NO! When you receive the benefit of tax cuts in your paycheck, send that money back to the Government! When you file your taxes, say NO THANKS when itemizing those deductions. Refuse to do business with any company (including your own employer) that receives tax incentives or funds from the Government. Don't file a claim for Unemployment if you lose your job! Don't drive on roads repaired because of Goverment programs, and certainly don't buy American automobiles or parts! Take your children out of those socialist public schools! Stop house-hunting because I hear there are tax credits for buying homes, and the banks also took bailout money.

By following these few simple rules, you can keep your head high and proudly say "I'm an Idiot!" while everyone else is working to improve our economic crisis; while you stand around and let the world go on by.

Wake up and smell the coffee- any help is better than none. The stimulus may not be perfect, but it's better than anything else that's been proposed. I will gratefully accept the benefits of the stimulus plan, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Star Techs...A Parody (of sorts)

Starring:
Captain Frank
Science Officer Dale
Dr. McKain
Helm Officer Josh
Communications Officer Timmeh
Weapons Officer Jose
Chief Engineer Dadzie

Captain's Log, Stardate 5187.8. Having cleared up the burn fails in Building Two, I've managed to obtain a leave for my ship and crew. They are looking forward to this much-needed vacation.

(Scene: The Bridge)

Frank: Mr. Josh, set course for the planet Toyota.

Josh: Yes, sir!

(Suddenly, the ship is rocked by a violent explosion, which causes everyone to fall out of their new blue chairs.)

Frank: Mr. Jose, report on all Klingon ships in the area.

Jose: Negative, keptin. Sensors show no enemy wessel in sight.

Frank: Your analysis, Mr. Dale.

Dale: I assure you, Captain, I am not operating under the influence of illicit mind-altering substances. However, if you think it necessary, regulations do stipulate that--

Frank: I meant your analysis of the current situation, not urinalysis.

Dale: My apologies, Captain. I am still sometimes unable to compensate for the vagaries of human enunciation. It would appear, Captain, that a visional catalyst source has malfunctioned to the critical overload stage. (Noticing Frank's blank stare, he shakes his head almost imperceptibly.) To rephrase my statement into what I believe you humans call `the vernacular': a light bulb blew in Engineering.

Frank: Josh, you have the Bridge. Dale, come with me.

(Scene: Engineering. A medical team is dragging off an injured engineer in a blue smock. Dadzie is surveying the damage and shaking his head. He spots Frank and Dale.)

Dadzie: Ca'en, sair, seen a' th' bulb ha' burn oot, I kinna see to oper'a' me engines!

(Frank smiles and nods.)

Frank (whispering to Dale): What did he say?

Dale: I believe, Captain, that Mr. Dadzie wishes to register a complaint to the effect that there is insufficient illumination to perform the duties requisite in his capacity as Chief Engineer.

Frank: Oh. Well, Dadzie, get a spare from storage.

Dale: I fear such action would be inappropriate, Captain. The Eleven Colors to Process Controls require us to travel with a full complement of spare parts at all times. If we were to remove a bulb from storage, then we would not have a full complement, and hence be in direct violation.

Frank: Damn the regulations, Dale, I've got a ship with 430 people aboard to think of! At least I think there are 430; come to think of it, I've never actually seen more than a couple dozen. Oh well, where is the nearest source of light bulbs?

Dale: I believe the planet Luminos satisfies the specified parameters.

Frank: Dadzie, do we have enough power to make it to Luminos?

Dadzie: Ach, I dinna righ'ly ken, Ca'en; we're runnin' a wee bit low. However, if we go strai' thar and dinna hurry, I thin' we migh' possibly duit.

Frank: Thank you, Dadzie. Dale?

Dale: Mr. Dadzie has formulated the opinion that there is insufficient data for complete analysis; current fuel capacity is scarcely in excess of minimal standards. However, probability dictates our vessel has the capability to sustain the journey under the following two constraints: a direct course must be set and maintained throughout and the ship's velocity must satisfy a maximality condition.

Frank: Then I'm afraid our little pleasure trip will have to wait.

(Scene: The Bridge. Josh and Jose are engaged in conversation.)

Josh: I think it was Thomas Edison.

Jose: No, you are wrong; the light bulb is a Mexican inwention.

(Frank and Dale enter.)

Frank: Mr. Josh, set a direct course for the planet Luminos.

Josh (startled): But, Captain, that'll take us straight through the Romulan Neutral Zone!

Frank: It's a risk we'll just have to take!

(Scene: Enterprise hurtling through space. Cut back to Bridge.)

Josh: We are now approaching the planet Luminos. I guess the Romulans didn't notice us. Mind you, I did pick up funny blips on our sensors that seemed to follow us.

Frank: Probably nothing important. Assume standard orbit.

Josh: Aye, sir.

Frank (punching intercom): Frank to Supply. Supply, send down someone to get some light bulbs.

Dale: Captain, may I remind you of Work Instruction 14.2b? `In order to prevent a ship from abandoning a crew-member on a planet, each landing party must contain enough high-ranking officers so that the ability of the ship to function without them is reduced below minimal standards.'

Frank: Of course, Dale. We'll have myself, you, Dr. McKain, and three guys in blue smocks. I'll get the doctor, you attend to the others.

(Scene: Sickbay. McKain is tending to the injured engineer. Frank enters.)

Frank: Hello, Ken.

(McKain grunts inarticulately.)

Frank: What's the matter, Ken, aren't you going to say hello?

McKain: Dammit, Frank, I'm a doctor not a casino greeter. I've got sick people to attend to, do you hear me, sick people, people whose very lives hang in the balance and depend upon my every action! And you come in here with such high contempt for human life that you expect me to neglect all my patients just to trade some weak social banalities!

Frank: Come on, Ken, your only patient is this Analysis Technician who got temporarily blinded and he looks fine. How are you son?

Analysis Technician: Gosh, sir, now that I've met you I'm all better! We younger Analysis Technicians thrive on your god-like aura.

McKain: Shut up, you! I'm the doctor and I'll make the diagnoses around here! By the way, Frank, just what the hell did you want?

Frank: I'm taking a landing party down to Luminos and I want you along.

McKain: What in blasted blue blazes are you thinking of, Frank? What about my patient?

Frank: He seems to have snuck away just now.

McKain: Again? Damn! Why do they always do that?

Frank: There, there, Ken. Maybe there are sick people down on the planet.

McKain: Do you really think so? Oh, okay, I'll come. But if I don't get someone to operate on, you're next in line.


(Scene: Transporter Room. Dadzie is at the controls and Dale and the Blue Smocks are standing on the pad. Frank and McKain take their places.)


Frank: Ready to beam down. Mr. Dadzie, you have the con.

Dadzie: Tha' ya, sair. I ha' always wanned ta gi' ordairs, but so far nay one has e'er lissend ta me.

Frank: Sure, whatever. Energize.

(Scene: A lush jungle near rocky terrain. The landing party materializes.)

McKain: Well, this looks like a safe enough place.

(A huge hole opens up in the ground and swallows one of the men in Blue Smocks.)

Frank: Yes, Ken, and the vegetation makes a pleasant change from the ship.

(Another guy wearing a blue smock reaches out, touches a plant and explodes. Frank, Dale and McKain turn and stare expectantly at the third guy in a blue smock. Spears comes whizzing through the air and one lodges in his chest. McKain bends over and examines him, then shakes his head.)

McKain: He's dead, Frank.

Frank: Well, at least that's over with. Did anyone see where the spears came from?

Dale: Not directly, but perhaps inferentially. Analysis of relevant data yields a 99.4% probability that the fusillade emanated from that direction. (He points.) Observe the grouping of antagonistic aboriginals evincing primitive projectile weaponry.

McKain: You mean savage-looking tribesmen waving spears! Why can't you just come out and say what you mean? Criminy, sometimes you really get on my nerves! Hey, my laser scanner's jammed!

Frank: Now, Ken, you shouldn't be shooting at the natives anyway.

McKain: Who said anything about natives? Let me borrow your laser scanner, Frank.

Dale: All our laser scanners are inoperative. It would appear to be a combined result of local atmospheric and geologic conditions.

(Scene: The Bridge. Dadzie enters and sits in the captain's chair.)

Dadzie: Sta'us rapor'.

Josh: Hunh? What'd he say?

Jose (excitedly): Senor Dadzie! My sensors indicate an approaching Romulan wessel. It is trawelling straight for us and moofing wery fast. I vould have reported it earlier, but I had a hard time thinking of a sentence vith enough wee's and double-oo's to comically mispronounce.

Dadzie: Ta'e us oot a arbit an the dibble!

Josh: I hope he said to get the hell out of here, `cause that's what I'm doing!

(The Enterprise leaves orbit. Unfortunately, three other Romulan ships decloak around them. A Romulan admiral appears on screen.)

Admiral Nelson: Intruders, we have found you in direct violation of the accords governing travel through the Neutral Zone. Under the rules of the accords, your ship is now forfeit to us. Are you prepared to surrender, or will we be forced to destroy you?

(Scene: The planet. The tribesmen are approaching and encircling the landing party.)

Frank: Well, looks like it's time to get out of here. (flipping open communicator) Frank to Enterprise. Frank to Enterprise...

(Frank shakes his head and closes the communicator. He nods to Dale and McKain and they begin to fight the tribesmen. Frank's shirt gets torn. They manage to knock out five or six, but are overwhelmed and captured.)

Frank: Wait! We come in peace. We mean you no harm.

(The tribesmen turn and look at their fallen comrades, then look back at Frank.)

Frank: Uh...

(The one with the tackiest hair moves forward.)

Chieftan: You do not belong to my tribe. You are prisoners!

Frank: Listen. We are members of the starship Enterprise. Our seemingly never-ending mission is to explore strange new worlds, seek out slimy blobs and poorly-dressed weirdos, to boldly--

Chieftan: Shut up. Our tribe is bored by pompous talk.

Dale: Logic suggests that we should not attempt further action until we obtain more data.

Frank: Excuse me, Dale, but you keep saying `probability dictates' and `logic suggests'. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Dale: Fascinating. I will have to further explore this idiosyncratic linguistic anomaly. Meanwhile, I believe I may be able to simplify the current situation. I shall now ascertain which aspect of Earth's cultural history these people mirror completely except of course for one minor but nonetheless significant difference. Tribal Chieftan, how do you live?

Chieftan: We are a free people. We travel much and live off the land. We hunt animals for food and dig for roots. We weave to make clothes and manufacture light bulbs for religious purposes.

McKain: Light bulbs? Great! We'll take a dozen.

Chieftan: Sacrilege! You will all die painfully for this.

Frank: Well, Ken, you've put your foot in it now. Hey, Chief, are there any scantily-clad babes on this planet? Just thought I'd ask.

Chieftan: Why, yes, my daughter Arianna is one. Here she comes now.

(Enter a gorgeous blonde with perfect teeth wearing a fur bikini and way too much eye make-up. Switch to soft focus. She catches sight of Frank.)

Frank: Hello.

Arianna: No man has ever spoken to me with such tender beauty. Oh, kiss me, kiss me passionately, Stranger! Father, you can go ahead and disembowel the other intruders but spare this one if you would spare your daughter.

(switch to regular focus)

Chieftan: Go to your hut, Arianna; we will talk later. Bring the prisoners to the Deathcave where my son lies. They will stay there while the sacrifice is made ready. Perhaps they will find my son Ranor fitting company during the hour of preparation.

Frank: Listen! I am Captain T. Frank of the USS Enterprise and I demand you release us.

Chieftan: Your former titles mean nothing here, Captain.

(Scene: A gloomy cave. Frank, Dale and McKain are standing by a boulder that has sealed off the entrance.)

Captain's Log, Stardate 5188.2. I have made contact with a lady named Arianna. She's a foxy blonde and she's really hot for me. They all are. I sometimes wonder: is it my good looks or my terrific personality? Not that I really care; just so long as they know the score. Oh, also Dr. McKain, First Officer Dale and myself beamed down to Luminos in attempt to secure much needed light bulbs and are trapped in a cave awaiting sacrifice at the hands of savages while the Enterprise appears to have left planetary orbit.

McKain (eagerly pointing): Look, Frank, it's a sick guy! Oh boy, this is great! (adopting a professional tone) There, there son. I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you. What seems to be the trouble?

Ranor (moaning): I have...a hangnail, which is fatal to the people in our tribe. Our witchdoctors have searched...many generations -- aaagh -- for a cure, but have not found one. Do -- ungh -- do you have the knowledge and medical skill to remove it?

McKain: Astounding! Our culture solved that problem centuries ago. Now I'm just a simple country doctor with advanced surgical training and high-tech equipment, but I'll have you cured in no time.

(McKain sets to work, and Frank turns to Dale.)

Frank: Let's see, the chieftan made a remark that we would have an hour until the sacrifice. How much time do we have left?

Dale: I would estimate about 7 minutes 17.4 seconds.

Frank (amused): Thank you, Dale. I don't suppose you could come up with a `rough sketch' of an escape plan?

Dale: Actually, Captain, I have formulated 13 different plans of escape, with probabilities of success ranging from near certainty to 342,984.6 to 1 against. However, extrapolation based on estimated psychological profiles suggests that none of them would involve another passionate interlude between Arianna and yourself.

Frank (pounding his fist on a rock): Well, then, we'll JUST have to FIND another way! There must BE....another way.

(The boulder moves and tribesmen enter.)

Chieftan: Now, strangers, we disembowel you. We will start with the one my daughter has the hots for.

Ranor: Look, father, I'm better!

Chieftan: Ranor! The strangers have healed you! Strangers, you must possess great mystic powers. In gratitude for returning my son to life, I free you and give you a dozen sacred light bulbs. You who can perform such miracles will be worthy caretakers.

(A witchdoctor grudgingly hands over some light bulbs. Suddenly, Frank's communicator beeps. He flips it open.)

Timmeh: Enterprise to Captain Frank, Enterprise to Captain Frank.

Frank: Yes, Communications Officer Timmeh, we read you.

Timmeh: We are back in orbit and ready to receive you.

Frank: Acknowledged. Stand by to beam us aboard.

(Switch to soft focus. Arianna enters and flings herself on Frank.)

Arianna: Say you won't go!

Frank: I'm sorry, but I have to. I have other, greater responsibilities.

Arianna (wiping away tears): I understand. But I will always remember you! I will remember you until this jungle withers away. (She kisses him passionately.) I will remember you until the mountains become flat. (Another passionate kiss.) I will remember you until the stars shine no more in the night sky. (A final long firm kiss, reluctantly tearing her lips away.)

Frank: Yes, and I'll remember you until the next cheap bimbo comes along. Energize.


(Scene: The Bridge, regular focus. Frank is back in the captain's chair, with McKain, Dale, and Dadzie gathered around.)


Frank: Tell me, Dadzie, how did you escape the Romulan battleships?

Dadzie: I dinna rightly ken, sair. I star'e' ta try an' negotia' wi' 'em, an' th' Ramoolans ga frus'ra'ed an' sel'-destruc'ed.

Frank: Uh, whatever. (begins scratching.) Ugh. What it is, Ken?

McKain (also scratching): Apparently we all picked up a minor rash on the planet. It should go away in a couple of hours, but it'll be extremely uncomfortable.

Dale: I appear to be unaffected, Gentlemen.

McKain: Damn that green blood of yours!

Frank: Now, Ken, settle down. Yes, Mr. Jose, what is it?

Jose: Senor Keptin, my chair by the veapons console has lost a ballbearing and von't rewolve anymore.

Frank: Don't worry, Jose, we'll take care of it and get a new ballbearing right away. Mr. Josh, set course for the planet Metallicus.

Bill Oreilly on Barack Obama, Radio Factor 6/24

It's been awhile since I've put anything of real importance to me on this blog. What I heard on Bill Oreilly's Radio Factor show today really bothered me. I've always been able to ignore or accept other peoples opinions to a point. Today I reached that point.

Please forgive me, as I am going to paraphrase some of this to the best of my memory.

Bill played an audio clip of Barack Obama from 2006, a speech given to somebody, somewhere; it doesn't matter. Obama said-

"Whatever we once were, we're no longer just a Christian nation; we are also a Jewish nation, a Muslim nation, a Buddhist nation, a Hindu nation, and a nation of non-believers. We should acknowledge this and realize that when we're formulating policies from the state house to the Senate floor to the White House, we've got to work to translate our reasoning into values that are accessible to every one of our citizens, not just members of our own faith community."

I am impressed with these words, we are a nation of many beliefs.

Bill Oreilly took exception to that speech/interview, putting a "SPIN" on it as he is oft quoted to be in the "No Spin Zone" yet he proceeded to slam Obama, emphasizing the Judeo-Christian values our country was founded on. He claims Obama is a secular-progressive, yet our constitution and laws are based on us being a secular nation. Should we follow Mr. Oreilly's lead on this and persecute those who are of different beliefs, or welcome them:

"Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Has Bill Oreilly forgotten his own heritage? He is Irish, but so far removed from Irish immigrants to forget the troubles and hardships they faced to come to the great "Melting Pot" that is the United States of America.

That must be lost on Bill Oreilly who has just lost some of his credibility with this person.

Casino Royale

This is the best James Bond film yet!!! WOW!

George WTF Bush

Quote by Bush this past weekend while in Southeast Asia:

"...North Korea's NUKULAR ambitions..."

Hey G-Dub; three words: Hooked on Phonics!

Mr. Redneck's Trailer Park

[As always, during piano intro ("It's a Bootiful Day in the Trailer Park"), see the trailer park miniature, back up from pole barn, pan right with the pickup, and then zoom to his trailer's miniature.]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Then, as the music continues, inside, looking at Mr. Rednecks' empty trailer from the fish tank, past the neon Bud sign flashing, past Picher Picher (with painting of old-fashioned farm fields), past living room and up to the door. MR. REDNECKS enters, a welcoming smile and singing: "It's a Bootiful Day in the Trailer Park." He wears a lei around his neck but it's not made of flowers, but unhulled peanuts! He wears a denim jacket today and, while singing, goes to the closet, changing it for a plaid sleeveless flannel shirt, leaving the lei on.]
MR REDNECKS
[singing] "It's a bootiful day in this trailer park,
A bootiful day for a neighbor.
Would y’all be mine.
Could y’all be mine.
It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood,
A neighborly day for a beauty
Would y’all be mine.
Could y’all be mine.
I have always wanted to have a neighbor
Jes’ like y’all.
I've always wanted to live in a trailer park
With y’all, so
Let's make the most of this bootiful day
Since we're together,
Reckon might as well say,
"Would y’all be mine, could y’all be mine,
Won't y’all be, my neighbor?"
Won't y’all please?
Won't y’all please?
Please won't y’all be
My neighbor?"

[He sat down on the bench and changed a boot for one of the old house slipper he keeps on the bench. The song is done, he stops, speaks as slow and neighborly as ever. During this (after showing us the peanut lei), he puts on the other slipper. We notice they are not matched.]

Heya neighbor.
See anything, different looking around my neck?
See this? A buddy of mine made this for me. Hmm-hmm. It's called a "peanut lei."
I guess lei is another word for a, necklace. Heh heh. An' this is made of aallll different peanuts. I didn't knooow there could be so many different looking ones. Just like we saw last time. Each One is different. Just like each one of our buddies is different, an' each one is special. Y’all know who one of my special buddies is. Y’all know the person who says, "Speedy Delivery"?
Mr. McFeely. He told me last time that he would bring us a videotape of how folks make chili- from the library. Well, he's not here right yet, so while we're waitin’ for him to come, why don't we sing our song about waitin’. Y’all know the one that says, "let's figure of sumpin’ to do while we're waitin’"?
[sings] "Let's figure of sumpin’ to do,
While we're waitin’,
While we're waitin’ for sumpin’ new
To do!
Let's try to figure up a song,
While we're waitin’,
That's liberatin’, and will be true,
To
Y’all!
Let's figure of sumpin’ to do,
While we're waitin’,
While we're waitin’ 'til sumpin’s through!
Y’all know it's really All Right?
In fact it's downright,
Quite bright,
To figure of sumpin’ to do,
That's specific for y’all!
Let's figure of sumpin’ to do,
While we're Waitin’!"

[remembers something] I have sumpin’ Right Now I'd like to show y’all. While we're waitin’. This is sumpin’ that I found, that I thought might be fun for y’all to see. Take a look at this here...

[He got a little box from near him on the bench. It's about 4" X 4" X 1", a cosmic little black box that is clear on one wide side to show: a yellow background and red and green bubbles that flow downward. Mr. Rednecks is slowly turning it this way and that, making patterns (closeup on it for us to see it). Dueling Banjos music accompanies. At the end:]

Ain’t that there fun?
I don't know how it's done but I figure that there's some, water, and some, oils--different colored oils--they just, kinda make me feel like I been smokin’ ragweed. Y’all know sumpin’ else I like to do? I like to read books. In fact, I remember the first teacher I had, who helped me to learn to read so’s I could get my drivin’ license. Here's a book of poems. It's just wonderful to be able to read. Yep.

[When he'd mentioned books, he'd got up and got a book from Pickup's area and held it up for us (title is POEMS, it looks homemade). He sits down on the couch and opens it up.]

Here's a, poem that I like. It's wonderful to know what, those words on the page mean. It says: " There once wuz a man from Nantucket, Whose wiener was so long he could…"-- [someone's knocking] Oh there's somebody at the door. Oh maybe it's Mr. McFeely!
[has got up and looks out window] It is.
[quickly gets door] Come in, Mr. McFeely!

MR McFEELY
Indeed. Sorry that this delivery took so long.

REDNECKS
Ohhh, my buddies an' I have lots of ideas of ways to, do things while we're waitin’.

McFEELY
Then y’all never be bored!

REDNECKS
That's no shit!

McFEELY
Well that's a nice lei y’all have on.

REDNECKS
Yes, a friend of mine made that--all different peanuts.

McFEELY
And this videotape is how people make chili. [shows him the "How People Make Chili" video tape]

REDNECKS
I know! Uh, could y’all wait, an' watch it with us?

McFEELY
Oh I--I can, I don't have that many deliveries today, an' as a matter fact--

REDNECKS
Hmm--hmm?

McFEELY
I have seen it an' I'll be able to tell y’all some things.

REDNECKS
--Good!--

McFEELY
All righty?

REDNECKS
Good, we'll watch it together.

McFEELY
All righty.

[They move to Picher Picher and REDNECKS puts the tape in down on the side by Pickup's oil stained park area.]

REDNECKS
We'll look at it on Picher Picher, "How People make Chili."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[As we watch, McFEELY explains what's going on with all this equipment, machinery, and people. REDNECKS echoes and comments, too, interested.]
McFEELY
[about a walking through a grocery store]
First, people go to the Piggly Wiggly to get vittles."

REDNECKS
Those are grocery stores…

McFEELY
[closeup on the shopping cart, cans of potted meat and Chili]
And then gets all their canned goods.

REDNECKS
Chili, fresh from the store...

McFEELY
[at the checkout counter]
That's right. But first, y’all have to pay for it. Git out yer food stamps.

REDNECKS
[driving home from the store]
Now they are on the way home, crossing the railroad tracks.

McFEELY
Hmm-hmm, ya gots to be careful on the railroad tracks, so y’all don’t spill yer PBR.

REDNECKS
Hmm-mm. Ah know what y’all mean...

McFEELY
[about opening the can of chili]
Here the folks are using a can opener to get the chili out.

REDNECKS
I hear some folks have ‘lectric can openers!

McFEELY
[about dumping the chili into a sauce pan]
They surely do. Here you gotta heat up the chili. Don’t turn up the hot plate too high or the chili will stick to the pan.

REDNECKS
Can you eat it right from the can?

McFEELY
Well ya can, but it’s better warm.

[the chili is now hot. Pouring the chili into a bowl]

Now here's the important part. You can eat the chili with crackers, or pour it over the top of just about any other food.

REDNECKS
Git in mah belly!

McFEELY
In a few hours you get a bonus!

REDNECKS
Hmm!

McFEELY
Chili Farts!

REDNECKS
Be very careful, around open flames!

McFEELY
That's right.

REDNECKS
Now what needs to be done?

[about cleaning up the mess]

McFEELY
Now just throw the paper plate away and let the dog lick the pan. That’s all!

[Back to the living room, REDNECKS gets the tape.]
REDNECKS
Now when I eat chili, I'll know about some of the people who helped to make it.

McFEELY
It takes people to make practically everything, doesn't it?

REDNECKS
Yes, that's why so many people have go to work.

McFEELY
I have my speedy delivery work, and y’all do yore television programs.

REDNECKS
Yeah, that's right. Takes people to make all sorts of things.

McFEELY
Away, and at home, too. I uh, better get back to my speedy deliveries; I have more pickups and deliveries.

REDNECKS
Good, would y’all mind taking that tape back to the library?

McFEELY
I'll do it, if y’all, will, sign right here on the dotted line for the pickup and delivery. [getting clipboard out of his sack]

REDNECKS
[signing an “X”] Of course. I appreciate yore work, Mr. McFeely.

McFEELY
An' I appreciate yore business.

REDNECKS
[walking with McFEELY to door] Please give my best to Mrs. McFeely.

McFEELY
I'llll do that, we'll seeee y’all around the trailer park.

REDNECKS
Thank y’all again.

McFEELY
Y’all're welcome! Speedy Delivery. [leaves with a wave]

REDNECKS
Bye. [shuts door and turns to us, stopping at the bottom of the stairs] Ain’t that interesting? Seeing how people make things like chili?
Does it feel good to learn things?
It does for me. [phone's ringing] Oh there's the phone.
[goes to the other side of the post for the phone]
Hello?
[sitting] Mr. McFeely!
Yes! Yes I'm here, hmm-mm.
Well of course! Y’all know y’all're always welcome here.
All right. Fine! Thank y’all. Bye-bye.
[to us, soon getting up] Mr. McFeely says, I just want to bring one more thing, one more thing. So he must have a surprise to bring us.

McFEELY
A Speedy Delivery surprise!

[McFEELY has a real orange flower lei around his neck and another in his hand. (At the start, the Speedy music was in background.)]

REDNECKS
--What are those?--

McFEELY
Well, when I returned the video tape to the library, I happened to stop in on a craft class, and they were making flower leis, an' they gave me this one, an' they asked me to, Speedy Delivery this one, to y’all! [REDNECKS was saying, "Hmm-hmm" and "Uh-huh" during all of this]

REDNECKS
This one's for me?

McFEELY
There y’all go. Speedy Delivery to y’all.

[REDNECKS puts it on. (Brief electric organ Hawaiian music in background.)]

REDNECKS
[smiling, holding peanut lei up] Peanuts.

McFEELY
Peanuts.

REDNECKS
[likewise with the flower lei] An' flowers.

McFEELY
An' flowers. Well, many different ways of makin' necklaces.

REDNECKS
There certainly are. Do y’all have a minute I can show y’all sumpin’.

McFEELY
I do.

[McFEELY follows him downstairs, REDNECKS is going to the bench for that magic little box.]

REDNECKS
[about the lei] Thank y’all for this.

McFEELY
Well, y’all're welcome.

REDNECKS
Boy all the things that they do at the library.

McFEELY
Many things there.

REDNECKS
I would like y’all to see this.

McFEELY
What's this?

REDNECKS
Sumpin’ that I found..

McFEELY
--Mm-mm--

REDNECKS
[turning it as before] Look at it..

[Close-up on it making different patterns as Mr. Rednecks slowly turns it this way and that.]

McFEELY
Why, it's a Moving, Picture. Ha ha!

REDNECKS
[laughs] Ha ha! Yes it is!

McFEELY
That's bootiful.

REDNECKS
I figure it is.
I keep looking at it an' seeing aaall of the different, designs that it makes..

McFEELY
No one picture is the same!
They're all different.

REDNECKS
They surely are. Just like allll of the flowers and all peanuts--

McFEELY
And all people--

REDNECKS
And all people. Do y’all figure y’all grandchildren would enjoy seeing this.

McFEELY
They would love seeing this. They're coming for a visit, [R: "Hmm-hmm"] do y’all figure I could borrow it?

REDNECKS
Of course!

McFEELY
An' I'll bring it back in a few days.

REDNECKS
All right.

McFEELY
[takes it] Speedy Delivery. A lot of surprises in this trailer park! Heh-heh-heh! [leaving]

REDNECKS
[a farewell] That's for sure. Thanks Mr. McFeely.

McFEELY
Yeah, I have one more delivery, then I'm going home! Good day--

REDNECKS
Please give Mrs. McFeely my best.

McFEELY
I will. Speedy Delivery to y’all! [REDNECKS: Byeee!] Buh-bye! [he's gone]

REDNECKS
[shuts door, comes back down stairs, sits on bench] It's fun to take care, ain’t it?
As y’all grow, y’all'll find more an' more ways of taking care. Of y’allrself, and others. An' when y’all do it, it gives y’all such a good feeling.
[happy, singing] "It's such a good, feeling
To know y’all're alive
It's such a Happy feeling
Y’all're growing inside
And when y’all wake up, ready to say:
'I figure I'll make a snappy new day'
It's such a good, feeling
A very good feeling
A feeling y’all know
That, I'll be back
When the day is new
An' I'll have more, ideas
For y’all.
And y’all'll have things y’all'll want to talk about.
I
Will
Too."

[During the song, he took his slippers off again and slipped back into his boots. Then he stood, took off his plaid sleeveless flannel shirt, and tossed it on the floor. As he talks, he puts his huntin' jacket on, keeping the leis on.]

Y’all always make each day a special day.
Y’all know how?
By just y’allr being y’allrself.
Only one person in this whole world like y’all. Y’all. And people can like y’all exactly as y’all are. I'll be back next time. Bye.

[He waves and leaves, shutting the door again. He'd got the music instrument off the bench before leaving.]



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[During credits, we see the view of the trailer park miniature starting on his trailer, then back up to a wide shot, following the little pickup left to a pole barn we zoom in on.]

Evil of Nancy Grace

The twisted mind of Nancy Grace who dis-graces CNN Headline News has gone overboard...again.
In this instance Nancy has relentlessly grilled a grieving mother whose child was kidnapped, driving the emotionally distraught mom to take her own life.
NANCY GRACE IS DESPICABLE!!!!!!! She has no sense of humanity!

http://articles.news.aol.com/news/_a/mother-of-missing-boy-commits-suicide/20060913143209990003?ncid=NWS00010000000001
Mother of Missing Boy Commits Suicide - AOL News

Draw your own conclusions, but Nancy Grace should be held accountable for her thoughtless actions in her attempt to boost ratings.

Nancy: The Weekly World News may have an opening for you! It's more your style.

Repair Tech Wars - -No Hope

This parody script was written by Rob K., a former co-worker. I take no credit or responsibility for its content.

REPAIR TECH WARS

Episode IV

NO HOPE


Far, far away, in a galaxy a long time ago...


A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop (there are three). Highway to hell is played in the background as the following words roll across the screen.


It is a period of war. Repair Tech spaceships, striking from a hidden base; have won their first victory against the evil TRW
Empire.
During the battle, Repair Tech spies managed to steal secret plans to TRW's ultimate weapon, the Death Module, an armored air bag that deploys with enough power to destroy an entire planet.
Pursued by TRWs sinister agents, Princess Layme races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans that can save the Repair Techs and restore freedom to the galaxy...


The awesome yellow planet of Marshalline emerges from a total eclipse, her two moons glowing against the darkness. A tiny silver spacecraft, a Repair Tech Blockade Runner firing lasers from the back of the ship, races through space. A giant TRW Morale-Destroyer purses it. Hundreds of deadly laser bolts streak from the TRW Morale-Destroyer, causing the main solar fin of the Repair Tech craft to disintegrate.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER -- MAIN PASSAGEWAY.

An explosion rocks the ship as two robots, Jay-Eye-Em (JIM) and Em-Eye-Kay-Eee (MIKE) struggle to make their way through the shaking, bouncing passageway. Both robots are ugly and pretty useless.
Jim is a short, round looking freak. His face looks like a two-year-old baby's. Mike, on the other hand, is a tall, slender robot. He has a gleaming; long, luxurious head of hair that makes him look kind of like a girl.
Another blast shakes them as they struggle along their way down the corridor.

MIKE: Uh-oh! My Repair Tech training tells me they shut down the main reactor. It feels like they might have damaged the struts as well. This sucks!

Repair Tech troopers rush past the robots and take up positions in the main passageway. Normally, they'd aim their guns at the door, but I decided it's more fun when people fight hand-to-hand and have weapons such as chair, 2x4s, etc. Kind of like wrestling...

MIKE: That's it. We're dead.

JIM: Did you say your gay? I already knew that.

MIKE: I think the Princess is pretty much screwed.

JIM: Thanks to me. I'm a pimp...and not a gay one.

Tension mounts as loud metallic latches clank and the scream of heavy equipment are heard moving around the outside of the ship.

MIKE: Oh know. Sounds like the shocks are gone.

EXTERIOR: SPACECRAFT IN SPACE.

The TRW craft has easily overtaken the Repair Tech Blockade Runner. The smaller Repair Tech ship is being drawn into the underside dock of the giant TRW starship.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER.

The nervous Repair Tech troopers aim their...2x4s. Suddenly a tremendous blast opens up a hole in the main passageway and a score of fearsome armored space suited TRW-Troopers make their way into the smoke-filled corridor.
In a few minutes the entire passageway is filled with flying chairs, 2x4s, and written warnings. The deadly chairs ricochet in wild random patterns creating chaos. TRW-Troopers scatter and duck behind storage lockers. Chairs hit several Repair Tech soldiers who scream and stagger through the hall, holding shattered arms and faces. An explosion hits near the dumb robots.

MIKE: Why do I listen to you? It's your fault I'm going to die...

JIM: You listen to me because your gay and you like my butt...

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DESERT REDNECKLAND -- DAY.

A death-white wasteland across the horizon. The tremendous heat of two huge twin suns settles on a lone figure, Rick Manwalker, a farm boy with heroic aspirations who acts much younger than his 34 years. His shaggy hair and baggy tunic give him the air of a simple but lovable lad; unfortunately this assumption is totally false.
A light wind whips at him as he adjusts several valves on an old battered 65 Mustang... He is aided by a beat up tread-robot with six arms. The little robot appears to be barely functioning.
A bright sparkle in the morning sky catches Rick's eye and he instinctively grabs a pair of electro binoculars from his utility belt (he keeps them on hand for peeping purposes). He stands transfixed for a few moments studying the heavens, then dashes toward his dented, crudely repaired AMC Gremlin. He motions for the robot to follow him.

RICK (whining): Gees! Hurry up! Come on! What are you waiting for ya piece of crap?! I'll kill you!

The robot scoots around in a tight circle, stops short, and smoke begins to pour out of it. Rick throws his arms up in disgust. Exasperated, the farm boy jumps into his Gremlin leaving the smoldering robot to hum madly.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER -- MAIN HALLWAY.

The awesome, seven-foot-tall, old and fat Dark Lord of TRW makes his way into the blinding light of the main passageway. This is Darth Battlehammer, right hand of the TRW CEO. His face is obscured by his flowing black robes and grotesque breath mask, which stands out next to the fascist white armored suits of the TRW-Troopers. Everyone instinctively backs away from the imposing warrior and a deathly quiet sweeps through the Repair Tech troops. Several of the Repair Tech troops break and run in a frenzied panic.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER.

A woman's hand puts a folded piece of paper into Jim's pants.

JIM: That's what I'm talkin' about! I am soooo not gay!

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER.

Mike stands in a hallway, somewhat bewildered. Jim is nowhere in sight. The pitiful screams of the doomed Repair Tech soldiers can be heard in the distance.

MIKE: Jim! Jim, where in the hell are you at?

A familiar clanking sound attacks Mike's attention and he spots little Jim at the end of the hallway in a smoke-filled alcove. A beautiful young girl (about sixteen years old...giggidy, giggidy, giggidy, oh yeah....) is kneeling in front of Jim. Surreal and out of place, dreamlike and half hidden in the smoke, she finishes adjusting Jim's pants, then watches as the little robot joins his companion.

MIKE: You've got to be kidding me! We're under attack and your getting your groove on???

TRW-Troopers can be heard battling in the distance.

MIKE: They're heading right for us! What are we going to do now???
We'll be put away without any Internet connection for the rest of our lives!!!

Jim scoots past his friend and races down the sub hallway. Mike chases after him.

MIKE: Wait a minute! Don't leave without me!

JIM: Well, quit acting gay and get moving...MF.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER -- CORRIDOR

The evil Darth Battlehammer stands amid the broken and twisted bodies of his foes. He grabs a wounded Repair Tech Officer by the neck as a TRW Group Leader rushes up to the Dark Lord.

GROUP LEAD: The Death Module plans are not in the main computer.

Battlehammer squeezes the neck of the Repair Tech Officer, who doesn't really seem to be bothered by the Dark Lords feeble grip.

BATTLEHAMMER: Tell me where the transmissions are, jackass!

Battlehammer tries to lift the Repair Tech off his feet by his throat. It doesn't work. A couple of TRW-Troopers grab the Repair Tech by the arms, and lift. Now the Battlehammer looks cool...

BATTLEHAMMER: Tell me now!

REPAIR TECH OFFICER: Dude, that outfit makes you look fat. And old. Anyhoo, we're on a diplomatic mission.

BATTLEHAMMER: Oh really? I look fat and old? Well, you look dead!

Battlehammer tries to choke the guy to death, but the Repair Tech just kind of rolls his eyes. Battlehammer grabs a gun and shoots the Repair Tech in the head.
Battlehammer tosses the dead soldier (with help from the TRW-Troopers) against the wall and turns to his troops.

BATTLEHAMMER: Commander, tear this ship apart until you've found those plans and bring me the Princess. I want her! I mean I want her alive!

The TRW-Troopers scurry into the sub hallways.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER -- SUBHALLWAY.

The lovely young girl huddles in a small alcove as the TRW-Troopers search through the ship. She is Princess Layme Orgasmo, a member of the Terre Haute Senate. The fear in her eyes slowly gives way to anger (and a bit of lust), as the muted crushing sounds of the approaching TRW-Troopers grow louder. One of the troopers sees her.

TROOPER: I see her! Get her!

Layme steps from her hiding place and kicks one of the troopers in the balls. She starts to run but is tackled from behind. The troopers inspect her inert body...most thoroughly.

TROOPER: She's a fine piece of...I mean, inform Lord Battlehammer we have a prisoner.

INTERIOR: REPAIR TECH BLOCKADE RUNNER -- SUBHALLWAY.

Jim stops before the small hatch of an emergency life pod. He snaps the seal on the main latch and a red warning light begins to flash repeatedly. The stubby astro-robot works his way into the cramped pod.

MIKE: Hey, Jim, you're not permitted in there. It's against the rules. It's stuff like that, that shows you don't have a positive attitude.

JIM: Dude, you are such an idiot...

MIKE: Don't call me a mindless philosopher you overweight glob of crap! Now come out before somebody sees you and we get in trouble!

JIM: First of all, I didn't call you a mindless philosopher. I called you an idiot. Second of all, you're gay. Third of all, I'm on a secret mission.

MIKE: Secret mission my ass! You are so full of it! You're always making up stuff. I'm done hanging out with you!

JIM: Dude, like I care. It's easier to get laid without you around...unless I want cyber-sex.

The sound of TRW-Troopers gets closer. Mike pees himself.

JIM: Just get in here, retard.

The lanky robot jumps into the life pod.

MIKE: I'm going to regret this. Quit touching my ass!

TO BE CONTINUED...




INTERIOR: TRW MORALE-DESTROYER.

On the main view screen, the life pod carrying the two terrified robots speeds away from the stricken Repair Tech spacecraft.

GUNNER: There goes another one! I bet I can take it out with one shot...

CAPTAIN: Dude get over here! I found nude pictures of Lindsey Lohan on the Internet!

The gunner quickly leaves his post.

INTERIOR: LIFEPOD.

Jim and Mike look out at the receding TRW starship. Stars circle as the pod rotates through the galaxy. Jim gets dizzy and throws up.

MIKE: That's funny; you're a wuss.

JIM: At least I'm not gay.

MIKE: (whines) Oh man, I stepped in it!


INTERIOR: REBEL BLOCKADE RUNNER -- HALLWAY

A squad of TRW-Troopers leads Princess Layme down a low-ceilinged hallway. Her hands are bound and she is goosed with an electric prod when she is unable to keep up with the briskly marching troops. They stop in a smoky hallway as Darth Battlehammer emerges from the shadows. The sinister Dark Lord stares hard at the frail young senator, but she doesn't move. When that doesn't work, he farts really loud. The girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. Several troopers gag.

LAYME: Lord Battlehammer, I should have known. Only you would take time off work to fly across the galaxy to pick up underage girls. The
HR Department will not sit for this, when they hear you've attacked a diplomatic...

BATTLEHAMMER: Don't play games with me, Your Highness...unless they're sexy games. Those are okay. Anyway, the HR Department will totally ignore this issue because that is their job! You weren't on any training mission this time. You passed directly through a restricted system. Plus, you were speeding and you don't have a TRW parking tag! Repair Tech spies beamed several transmissions to this ship.
I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you...or we can conduct a strip search.

LAYME: I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm always up for a strip search. I'm a member of the TRW Entertainment Committee on a diplomatic mission to Terre Haute...

BATTLEHAMMER: You're a part of the Repair Tech Alliance...and a traitor. And you're stupid! Take her away!

Layme is marched away down the hallway and into the smoldering hole blasted in the side of the ship. A TRW Team Leader turns to Battlehammer.

TEAM LEADER: Holding her isn't a good idea. You should just give her a final verbal written oral warning.

BATTLEHAMMER: Don't tell me what to do! You're not my boss! She's my only link to finding those damn Repair Techs.

TEAM LEADER: She'll put in her two weeks notice before she tells you anything.

BATTLEHAMMER: Leave that to me. Send a distress signal and then inform the HR Department that all aboard were killed!

TEAM LEADER: Why? The HR Department is on our side. Why do we have to lie?

BATTLEHAMMER: It's not a lie. I'm going to kill everybody. HR just needs to know for payroll purposes.

A Group Leader approaches Battlehammer and the Team Leader. Battlehammer pats the Group Leader on the head for being obedient.

GROUP LEADER: Lord Battlehammer, the Death Module plans are not aboard this ship and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but the gunners didn't shoot it down because they found nude pics of Lindsey Lohan on the Internet.

Battlehammer turns to the Commander.

BATTLEHAMMER: Layme must have hidden the plans in the escape pod. Send a detachment down to get them. In the meantime, I demand to see these pics of Lindsey Lohan!

TEAM LEADER: Yes, sir! Can I look too?

BATTLEHAMMER: No...this is something I'll need to do in private...

EXTERIOR: SPACE.

The TRW Morale-Destroyer comes over the surface of the planet Marshalline.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DESERT.

The two useless astro-droids kick up clouds of sand as they leave the life pod and clumsily work their way across the desert wasteland. The life pod in the distance rests half buried in the sand. Jim wrote, "Mike is gay" on the side.

MIKE: How did I get into this? I really don't know. All I wanted was an extra dollar an hour. Instead, I get 38 cents and my hours changed. On top of that, I'm now running from the evil TRW Empire.

JIM: Dude, will you please shut up???

MIKE: I've got band practice in the morning. I'm meeting a girl from Pakistan on the Internet later! My life is falling apart!

JIM: Do you want me to kill you?

MIKE: Man...this place is hot...

JIM: Well, I'm not standing around here with your gay ass all day. I'm outta here!

Suddenly Jim starts off in the direction of the rocky desert mesas. Mike stops and yells at him.

MIKE: Where do you think your going?

JIM: Anywhere there isn't gayness.

MIKE: Well, I'm not going that way. The acoustics wouldn't be right for band practice. I'm going this other way. And don't' try to talk me out of it!

JIM: No problem...

MIKE: I mean it! I'm not going to follow you!

JIM: Yup...heard ya the first time...

MIKE: Don't beg me to go with you!

JIM: Wouldn't dream of it...

MIKE: Fine! Be that way! You just go ahead with your make believe missions! See if I care! You go to hell! You go to hell and you die!

Mike throws a rock at Jim and starts off in the direction of the vast dune sea.

MIKE: And don't let me catch you following me begging for help.

JIM: It won't happen unless I need help not picking up any girls...

He turns and trudges off in the direction of the towering mesas.

MIKE: Man, I hate that guy. He doesn't even know the difference between a shock and a strut.

JIM: Man, I hate that guy. He's gay.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DUNE SEA.

Mike, hot and tired, struggles up over the ridge of a dune only to find more dunes, which seem to go on for endless miles. He looks back in the direction of the now distant rock mesas and flips off Jim (who he can no longer see).

MIKE: That malfunctioning little turd. This is all his fault! In fact, it's everybody's fault but mine! He tricked me into going this way, but only because I'm stupid.

In a huff of anger and frustration, Mike knocks the sand from his joints. His plight seems hopeless, when a glint of light in the distance reveals an object moving towards him.

MIKE: What's that? It looks like a giant truck. Man, I can't wait to see the shocks on that thing.

The android waves frantically and yells at the approaching transport.

MIKE: Over here, jerkoff! Hey, dumbass! Please, help...moron!



EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SUNSET.

The gargantuan rock formations are shrouded in a strange foreboding mist and the ominous sounds of unearthly creatures fill the air. Oh, wait. The mist and ominous sounds are coming from Jim's ass. Jim moves cautiously through the creepy rock canyon, inadvertently making a loud farting noise as he goes.

JIM: Damn low-carb diet...

Jim hears a distant, hard, metallic sound and stops for a moment. Convinced he is alone, he adjusts himself and continues on his way.

In the distance, a pebble tumbles down the steep canyon wall and a small figure darts into the shadows. A little further up the canyon a slight flicker of light reveals a pair of eyes in the dark recesses only a few feet from the path. The unsuspecting robot waddles along the rugged trail until suddenly, out of nowhere, a little midget jumps out and hits Jim on the head with a hammer.

JIM: Awww, sh--

Jim falls backward onto his back. Out of the rocks scurry three midgets, almost as tall as Jim. They take turns hitting Jim with the hammer, making sure he is good and knocked out. They wear grubby cloaks and their faces are shrouded so only their beady eyes can be seen. They all huddle around Jim's inert form and make him an unwilling participant to a little midget love...

TO BE CONTINUED...


EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SANDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.

The eight midgets carry Jim out of the canyon to a huge tank-like vehicle the size of a four-story house. They weld a small disk on the side of Jim and then put him under a large tube on the side of the vehicle and the little robot is sucked into the giant machine.
The filthy little midgets scurry like rats up small ladders and enter the main cabin of the behemoth transport.

INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER -- HOLD AREA.

It is dim inside the hold area of the Sandcrawler and smell like midget love...oh wait, that's Jim. Jim finds a small flashlight and begins making his way around heaps of junk. The narrow beam swings across rusty metal rocket parts and an array of grotesquely twisted and maimed astro-robots. He pauses momentarily when he finds an old copy of Penthouse. After reading Forum, he continues on. As his situation appears more and more hopeless, Jim begins to cry.

INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER -- PRISON AREA.

Jim enters a wide room with a four-foot ceiling (which means the ceiling is about a foot above his head). In the middle of the scrap heap sit a dozen or so robots of various shapes and sizes. Bill's loadbox is among the heap. Some are engaged in electronic conversation, while others simply sit and rust. A voice of recognition calls out from the gloom. Jim slaps his head in frustration.

MIKE: Jim! It's you! Why do you smell like midget love?

Mike covers his nose.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SANDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.

The enormous Sandcrawler lumbers off toward the magnificent twin suns, which are slowly setting over a distant mountain ridge. The Sandcrawler stops at an Arby's and then continues its journey.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DESERT -- DAY.

Four TRW-troopers mill about in front of the half-buried life pod that brought Jim and Mike to Marshalline. A trooper yells to a group leader some distance away.

FIRST TROOPER: Someone named Mike was in the pod. I'm certain of it!

GROUP LEADER: How do you know?

FIRST TROOPER: Well, somebody wrote, "Mike is gay" on the side of the pod.

In true TRW management fashion, the Group Leader reached his own decision...

GROUP LEADER: Okay, clearly you are correct. Somebody named Mike was in the pod and according to these tracks, they headed off to the east. But, I'm going to ignore the facts and tell you what is really going on here. "Mike is gay" could be taken a many number of ways. You are reading it wrong so therefore there is a lack of communication. In fact, I bet you are Mike!

The group leader pulls out a gun and shoots the trooper.

GROUP LEADER: Case solved! I'm going to lunch...

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DUNES.

The Sandcrawler moves slowly down a great sand dune. You can hear Mike inside going "Wheee!!!"

INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER.

Mike and Jim noisily bounce along inside the cramped prison chamber. Jim appears to be sleeping. Mike takes his wallet before waking him.

MIKE: Midget lover! It's time to wake up!

Suddenly the shaking and bouncing of the Sandcrawler stops creating quite a commotion among the mechanical men.

MECHANICAL MEN: *random mumblings*

Mike slaps Jim a couple of times to wake him up. Jim comes out of sleep mumbling something about "No...no midgets..." A dozen or so midgets make their way through the odd assortment of robots.

MIKE: That's it. We're dead.

A midget starts moving toward them.

MIKE: Do you think they'll make us their midget love slaves?

JIM: Why are you asking me?

THREEPIO: Oh...I don't know. *coughmidgetlovercough*

JIM: Shut up.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DESERT -- RATT HOMESTEAD -- AFTERNOON.

The midgets mutter gibberish as they busily line up their battered captives, including Jim and Mike, in front of the enormous Sandcrawler, which is parked beside a small homestead consisting of three large holes in the ground surrounded by several tall moisture vaporators and one small adobe blockhouse.
The midgets scurry around fussing over the robots, straightening them up or brushing some dust from a dented metallic elbow. One of the midgets pauses to hump Jim's leg.
Out of the shadows of a dingy side building limps Owen Ratt, a large burly man in his mid-fifties. His reddish eyes are sunken in from years of cocaine use. As the farmer carefully inspects each robot, his slump-shouldered nephew, Rick Manwalker, closely follows him. One of the vile little midgets walks ahead of the farmer spouting an animated sales pitch in a queer, unintelligible language.
A female voice calls out from one of the huge holes that form the homestead. Rick goes over to the edge and sees his Aunt Beru standing in the main courtyard.

BERU: Rick, tell Owen that if he gets a translator to be sure it speaks Ghetto.

RICK: Quit telling me what to do! Tell him yourself!

Rick returns to his uncle as they look over the equipment for sale with the midget leader.

OWEN: I have no need for a droid that can play the drums.

MIKE: (quickly) Sir -- not in an environment such as this -- but...I've nailed two chicks at once...

JIM: ...and a guy...

MIKE: What??? That's not true!

OWEN: What I really need is a droid that understands how to play XBox.

MIKE: Xbox! Sir -- My first job was playing Playstation 2...very similar to the Xbox. In fact...

OWEN: Do you speak Ghetto?

MIKE: Word up, broham. It's like a second language for
me...I used to deal crack...

OWEN: All right shut up, hippie! (turning to midget) I'll take this gay one.

MIKE: I'm not gay!

OWEN: Rick, take these two over to the garage, will you? I want you to give both of them a bath before dinner.

Rick: But I was going into Terre Haute Station to pick up some shocks...

OWEN: You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done. Don't make me backhand you!
Get to it!

RICK: Gees, my life sucks! Okay... the short droid and the Asian one. Well, come on, Cling Dong Chong. Let's go.

As the midgets start to lead the three remaining robots back into the Sandcrawler, Jim lets out a pathetic little whine and starts after his old friend Mike.

JIM: Miiiikkkkeee! Don't leave meeeeeee!!! Not with the midgets!

A slimy midget, who hits him in the face with a loadbox, restrains him.

Owen is negotiating with the head midget. Rick and the two robots start off for the garage. When nobody is looking, Jim picks up a rock and throws it at the Asian robot, hitting him in the head. The robot falls to the ground, bleeding from the nasty gash.

RICK: Uncle fatass...

OWEN: What?

RICK: This Asian unit is unstable. Look! It's got a big gash in its head!

OWEN: (to the head midget) Hey, what're you trying to push on us?

The midget goes into a loud spiel. Meanwhile, Jim has sneaked out of line. He farts loudly. Mike taps Rick on the shoulder.

MIKE: (pointing to Jim) Excuse me, sir, but that short, round unit is pretty useless. Whatever you do, don't buy him.

JIM: Why, you sonofabi--

RICK: Hey! Don't tell me what to do! I'm not a slave to The Man! Uncle lardbutt...

OWEN: What?

RICK: What about the short one?

JIM and MIKE: (in unison) I'm not gay!

OWEN: (to midget) What about that short one? We'll buy that one.

With a little reluctance the scruffy dwarf trades the damaged droid-droid for Jim.

RICK: See! I do what I want!

MIKE: Uh, great. You bought a really worthless droid that isn't good at anything except bugging me. He's a first-class pain in the ass. And he's a Braves fan. How pathetic...oh, here he comes.

Owen pays off the whining midget as Rick and the two robots trudge off toward a grimy homestead entry.

RICK: Okay, let's go get you two cleaned up.

JIM: Cool, bath time. Hey Rick, don't forget to wash my taint!

MIKE: (to Jim) You are soooo disgusting! I hope we don't have to share a bath!

JIM: If we do, just don't touch my sac.

INTERIOR: RATT HOMESTEAD -- GARAGE AREA -- LATE AFTERNOON.

The garage is cluttered and worn and it smells like ass. Mike lowers himself into a large tub filled with warm water. Near the battered AMC Gremlin little Jim rests on a stool.

MIKE: This is awesome! It's been awhile since I've had a bath.
I've got dust in places that just aren't appropriate!

JIM: (mumbles) At least you don't smell like midget love...

Rick seems to be lost in thought as he runs his hand over the damaged fin of a small two-man bicycle spaceship resting in the garage. Finally Rick's frustrations get the better of him and he slams a wrench across the workbench.

RICK: I hate my life. This place sucks. I'm never gonna get out of here and I'll be stuck washing robots forever!

MIKE: Hmmm...I think you're a big whiner.

Rick glances at the battered robot. His face turns bright red with anger.

RICK: What would you know!

MIKE: Hey, don't take it personally. I'm just saying that you whine like a little bitch. I mean, you cry like a girl. I hope you're not offended.

RICK: Well...I'll let it slide this time, but if you ever say anything like that again I'll kill you.

MIKE: Whatever you say, Rick.

RICK: Uh, you can call me Sir.

MIKE: I see, sir Rick.

RICK: (snarls) Just sir.

MIKE: And I am Mike, human-cyborg relations, and this is my...ummm...acquaintence, Jim.

RICK: Hi.

JIM: Whaddup dog!

Rick grabs a sponge and begins washing Jim's naked body. Mike climbs out of the tub and begins drying himself off in front of a very disgusted Rick.

RICK: Man, Jim, you are filthy...and you smell like midget love. It looks like you boys have seen some action.

MIKE: With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed we're not dead yet, what with the Rebellion and all.

RICK: You know of the Repair Tech Rebellion against the TRW Empire?

MIKE: That's how we came to be in your service, if you take my meaning.

RICK: No, don't follow you at all. Have you been in many battles?

MIKE: Oh yeah! All the time. I'm always kicking somebody's ass. I was kicking the hell out of some TRW troopers on the last ship we were on, but Jim insisted we run away. I wanted to stay and fight, but I couldn't let Jim wander off by himself.

JIM: You are soooo gay...

Rick struggles to remove something from between Jim's butt cheeks. He uses a large pick. That's P-I-C-K...pick.

RICK: Well, my midget love smelling friend, you've got something jammed in here real good. Were you on a cruiser..?

A hidden message pops out of Jim's butt, sending Rick tumbling head over heels. He sits up and unfolds the piece of paper that has a nude picture of Layme Orgasmo. Rick looks at the paper and sees hastily scribbled words. He begins reading the message.

RICK: "Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop. You're my only hope." What is this?

JIM: What's what?

RICK: "Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop. You're my only hope. Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop. You're my only hope."

MIKE: The message he pulled out of your ass! Where did it come from?

JIM: Besides my ass?

MIKE: Yes!

JIM: I have no idea. It's hard to say what else is stuck up there.

RICK: Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop. You're my only hope. Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop. You're my only hope.

JIM: It's probably nothing important. In fact, I think it's an old message someone passed to me in class when I was younger. I think it said, "Mike is gay." I wouldn't worry about it.

The beautiful girl intrigues Rick.

RICK: this beautiful girl intrigues me. Who is she?

MIKE: How am I suppose to know??? Do I look like her pimp?

RICK: Help me, Obi-Roger Bishop...

MIKE: Why do you keep reading the same part of the message over and over?

RICK: The only words I know how to read just happen to be the ones in the first couple lines of this message. It's a really lucky coincidence that they're in an order that makes since. Jim, what does the rest of the message say?

JIM: I don't remember. Go screw yourself, gay man.

MIKE: Behave yourself, Jim. You're going to get us written up.
You can trust him. He doesn't work for The Man.

JIM: I used to work for Obi-Roger Bishop. He lives here on Marshalline. It's a private message for him. And that's all I'm telling you. You're gay.

RICK: Obi-Roger Bishop? I wonder if he means old Roger Bishop?

MIKE: You know this Obi-Roger Bishop?

RICK: Well, I don't know anyone named Obi-Roger, but old Roger lives out beyond the dune sea. He's kind of a strange old slacker.

Rick gazes at the picture of the young princess for a few moments.

RICK: I wonder if she's single. It sounds like she's in trouble and is in dire need of the Rickster. Somebody read this message to me.

JIM: The restraining bolt on my head has kind of made me loopy. If you take the bolt off, I may be able to focus long enough to read the message.

Rick looks longingly at the lovely, little princess and hasn't really heard what Jim has been saying.

RICK: H'm? Oh, yeah, well, I guess you're too small and useless to run away on me if I take this off! Okay.

Rick takes a wedged bar and pops the restraining bolt off Jim's head.

RICK: Okay, here's the message.

Rick hands Jim the note. Jim quickly shoves the note back up his ass.

RICK: Well, wait a second. Why'd you do that for? Give me back the message! I want to know what it says! WHAAAAAAAA!!!!

JIM: Message? Dude, what are you talking about?

MIKE: You know exactly what he's talking about! Take that message out of your ass this minute! Don't make me go up there!

A women's voice calls out.

AUNT BERU: Rick? Rick! Get in here and eat!

Rick stands up and shakes his head at the malfunctioning robot.

RICK: All right, hold your horses ya ugly spinster!

MIKE: I'm sorry, sir, but Jim is pretty much a dick.

Rick tosses Jim's restraining bolt on the workbench and hurries out of the room.

RICK: Well, see if you can pull that message back out of his ass. I'll be back later.

MIKE: (to Jim) Why are you carrying a message around in your ass?

JIM: Long story. Do you think that Rick guy is mad?

MIKE: Oh, I think that's pretty obvious. Why, are you worried?

JIM: No...I just want to see if I can make him cry.

MIKE: You are such an idiot...


TO BE CONTINUED...



INTERIOR: RATT HOMESTEAD -- DINING AREA.

Rick's Aunt Beru fills a container with some malt liquor (King Cobra maybe?) She puts the pitcher on a tray with some cocoa pebbles and heads for the dining area.

Rick is already at the table with his uncle.

RICK: You know, I think Jim might have been kidnapped.

OWEN: Well, duh! That's why we got him so cheap!

RICK: Well, I stumbled across a message while I was cleaning him. He says he belongs to someone called Obi-Roger Bishop.

Owen is greatly alarmed at the mention of the name and backhands Beru out of general principle. She goes flying out of her chair.

BERU: OUCH!!! Son-of-a-bit--

RICK: I thought he might have meant old Roger. Do you know who he's talking about? Well, I wonder if he's related to Roger.

Owen breaks loose with a fit of uncontrolled anger and throws a fork at Beru. It sticks in her forehead.

BERU: The pain!!! Oh, the pain!!!

OWEN: That old man's just a crazy old slacker. Tomorrow I want you to
take Jim into Givinhead and have his memory flushed. That'll be the end of all that crap he's been spewing. He belongs to us now.

RICK: But what if this Obi-Roger comes looking for him?

OWEN: He won't, I don't think he's alive any more. He died around the same time as your father.

RICK: He knew my father?

OWEN: Oookkkkaaayyyy...what in the hell did I just say that makes you think he knew your father? Because he died around the same time as your father? Hell, I guess maybe your father knew everybody that just happened to die around the same time as him. I tell you what, boy; when you want to be stupid you sure do go all out! In the morning I want Jim and Mike on the south ridge working on those condensers.

RICK: Whatever...jerk. I think Jim and Mike are going to work out fine.
In fact, I was also thinking about our agreement about my staying on another season. And if these new droids do work out, I want to transmit my application to TRW this year.

Owen's face becomes a scowl and he kicks Beru in the shin.

BERU: That's it...I've had enough.

OWEN: Do you mean the next semester before harvest?

RICK: Sure, there're more than enough droids...and besides, we don't even live on a farm ya crazy bastard!!!

OWEN: Harvest is when I need you the most, Rick. Just one more season. This year we'll make enough on the harvest so I'll be able to kill you and hire someone to take your spot. And then you can go to TRW next year.

RICK: Did you say kill me?

OWEN: What? No...no...of course not.

Rick continues to toy with his food, not looking at his uncle.

OWEN: You must understand I need you here, Rick.

RICK: Only because all the drug dealers won't sell to you.

OWEN: It's only one more season.

Rick pushes his half-eaten plate of food aside and stands.

RICK: Yeah, and that would make sense if we lived on a farm.

AUNT BERU: Where do you think you're going?

RICK: It looks like I'm not going anywhere because I have to harvest a crop we don't have. I have to finish cleaning Jim.

Resigned to his fate, Rick runs out of the room crying. Owen pulls out a small bag of coke.

AUNT BERU: Owen, I don't want him to stay here forever. Let's just kick him out. He's just a waste of space.

OWEN: Yeah, but we get a tax break for claiming his as a dependant. Extra cash means extra meth.

AUNT BERU: Rick's just not a farmer, Owen. Corn surrounds our home and he thinks we have nothing to harvest. He has too much of his father's stupidity in him.

OWEN: That's what I'm afraid of...that and a sudden shortage of crack.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- RATT HOMESTEAD.

The giant twin suns (they look like big, golden boobs) of Marshalline slowly disappear behind a distant dune range. Rick stands watching them for a few moments, smokes a joint, and then reenters the homestead.

INTERIOR: RATT HOMESTEAD -- GARAGE.

Rick enters the garage, but doesn't see the robots anywhere. Rick removes a small loadbox from his utility belt. He presses a button on the loadbox, sending an electrical shock through Mike who was hiding behind the AMC Gremlin.

RICK: What are you doing hiding there? Were you going to molest me?

Mike stumbles forward, but Jim is still nowhere to be seen.

MIKE: It wasn't my fault! It's all Jim! Please don't kill me! I told him not to go, but he's stubborn and stupid; kept babbling on about his mission.

RICK: Oh, no!

MIKE: I know! It's horrible!

RICK: I forgot to save a lot of money on my car insurance with Geico!

Rick races out of the garage followed by Mike.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- RATT HOMESTEAD.

Rick rushes outside and searches the horizon for Jim. Mike slowly follows him.

MIKE: Jim has always been a problem. He's a self-centered, egotistical, obnoxious twerp. And he's a Braves fan...yuck!

RICK: How could I be so stupid? It must be genetic. Crap! We'll never find him!

MIKE: Shouldn't we go after him?

RICK: Okay...one time for the cheap seats...WE'LL NEVER FIND HIM!!! Besides, it's too dangerous with all the White Trash People around.

Owen yells to Rick that he's shutting the power down for the night.

OWEN: Rick, I'm shutting the power down for the night.

Told ya.

RICK: Go screw yourself! I hate you! WHAAAAA!!!

Rick scans the horizon again, checks behind a rock, and digs into the sand a few inches, but he can't find Jim anywhere.

RICK: You know, Jim is going to cause me a lot of trouble.

MIKE: I tried to warn you, but you didn't listen so I really don't give a crap what kind of trouble you're in.

INTERIOR: RATT HOMESTEAD -- PLAZA.

The next morning, Rick's crack head of an uncle walks outside and begins looking for him. He pops a couple of ludes and calls out for Rick because Rick is carrying the rest of his stash.

OWEN: Rick? Rick? Rick? Where is that little bastard?

INTERIOR: RATT HOMESTEAD -- KITCHEN.

Aunt Beru is in the kitchen preparing the morning meal: eggs topped with finely cut cocaine, ham and bennies, and milk with some powdered morphine.

OWEN: Have you seen Rick this morning?

AUNT BERU: He said he wanted to run into town and get a whore before he got started today.

OWEN: Huh? Isn't Rick gay?

AUNT BERU: I think so.

OWEN: Hmmmm...he must've been talkin' about getting him a man-whore. Oh well, as long as he's out workin' in the field before lunch I really don't give a damn what he does.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- DESERT WASTELAND -- RICK'S GREMLIN -- DAY.


Mike is driving the ultra cool AMC Gremlin and the desert flies by in a blur...a very, very slow blur. In fact, Mike drives like an old woman. Rick looks impatient.


Rick leans over the back of the seat and grabs a couple of beers. He hands one to Mike.

RICK: Want a cold one?

Mike pops open the beer and sips it with his pinky pointing out. Rick rolls his eyes in disgust.

RICK: Old Roger Bishop lives out this way somewhere, but surely little fatass Jim didn't make it all the way here. We must have missed him. Uncle Owen Methface is going to kill me.

MIKE: Just lie to him.

RICK: That's a good idea! I could tell him it was all your fault! He'll probably trade you for some weed...

MIKE: On second thought, you should just tell him the truth. If he finds out you lied he'll probably make you stop whining, and I don't think you could handle that.

RICK: Hey, I think I see Jim up ahead of us. Maybe I'll just run him over...

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- ROCK MESA -- DUNE SEA -- COASTLINE -- DAY.

From a rock mesa, a couple of White Trash people are watching the AMC Gremlin speed across the landscape. One of the White Trash People sets his beer to the side and aims his rifle. The other White Trash Person grabs the rife and stops him from shooting.

WHITE TRASH 1: Why in tarnation are you stoppin' me from shootin' them thar city folk?

WHITE TRASH 2: Cause ye might hurt the purty auto mobile they's is driven. If we can sneaks up on em, we can kill em deader then a rat at a snake's birthday party and keep the car for ourselves!

The first White Trash Person seems to like the idea and celebrates by smashing a beer can on his head. The White Trash People disappear into the rocks.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALINE -- ROCK MESA -- CANYON.

The White Trash People approach thier huge Ford trucks. The trucks are raised way up high with monster tires and lights mounted on the top of the hood. Some Hank Jr. blares from the radio as the White Trash Person starts the truck. The White Trash People leave the small, secluded valley in a cloud of dust.

EXTERIOR: MARSHALLINE -- ROCK CANYON -- FLOOR.

The AMC Gremlin is parked. Rick, with a baseball bat slung over his shoulder, stands in front of Jim.

RICK: Where in the hell do you think you're going?

JIM: Where ever I want, biiiaaatttch.

MIKE: Dude, you're going to get us into trouble. I don't know who this Obi-Roger Bishop guy is, but I think you just need to give up on reuniting with your old boyfriends. If you keep it up, Rick is going to kick your ass.

RICK: Ummm...yeah, that's right! Anyway, it's getting late. I bet Uncle "I Would Sell My Soul For An Ounce" isn't going to be too happy.

MIKE: I think we should just kill Jim and dump him off behind one of these rocks.

RICK: No, we need him to clean the toilets back at the house.

JIM: HOLY CRAP!!! WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!!!

RICK: What's wrong with you?

JIM: There's White Trash People heading towards us from the southeast!

RICK: How do you know that?

JIM: We're downwind from them...

Rick swings his bat into position.

RICK: Cool! It's ass whoopin time! Let's go see what they're up to. They're probably just scavenging for an old couch or something...

TO BE CONTINUED....