Thursday, September 11, 2003

 

So Totally Unfair, So Completely Unbalanced

I read Brian Flemming’s one-act, “Fair & Balanced.” It’s vicious, gleefully so. It’s totally unfair to Bill O’Reilly, nearly to the point of libel. It would be just a nasty polemic, if it weren’t for the fact that it does nothing that O’Reilly hasn’t done himself. That’s what makes it brilliant.

The plot is simple: Bill O’Reilly keeps three men locked in a dungeon. The men are named Fair, Balanced, and Ampersand. Every night at eight, Bill does horrible things to them. I mean really horrible things. On this night, though, his victims will turn the tables on him.

Did I mention that O’Reilly does horrible things, I mean so horrible that it seems unfair to dramatize a living person as doing and saying things he'd probably never do or say? Flemming puts the worst invective into O’Reilly’s mouth. He creates a fantasy wherein O’Reilly is a man with no redeeming value. Of course, anybody who has watched “The O’Reilly Factor” knows that O’Reilly does these same things. Sure, he never goes so far as to live out any of his mean-spirited fantasies, but then again, the play doesn’t either. That’s not really Bill O’Reilly doing those horrible -- and I mean Godawful -- things. It’s just the playwright saying that he is. Or this little O’Reilly homunculi in your mind committing horrendous acts of pure evil (shameless plug: I explore this idea here). It’s a pleasure to watch the play revel in the protections of the first amendment, the amendment that allows O’Reilly to abuse people on his show, the amendment that O’Reilly wants to apply to himself, and only himself.

The rest of the book is a collection of Brian Flemming’s prose. There’s an essay comparing America’s post 9-11 mindset to the tragic obsessions of Othello and Hamlet, a photo-essay on the pro-Iraqi war demonstrators, and a copy of the speech he never got to deliver during his run for governor.

The photo-essay bothered me a bit. It reminded me of this guy’s documentary, which seeks to discredit the arguments of the anti-war movement by focusing on the most ridiculous people within it. Flemming attempted to document all elements of a pro-Iraqi war protest. He does depict one guy who doesn’t fit the fire-eating, America-first mold. Mostly he presents a carnival of morons. Thing is, I have yet to attend a demonstration where there wasn’t an army of morons. Something about a protest brings them out. I used to give them more leeway if they were on my team. Nowadays...well, I don’t go to many political rallies.

Buy the book. At five dollars, it’s a bargain. It’ll make you laugh, it’ll make you think, but it won’t make you cry. Unless you’re Bill’s mom.



"Fair & Balanced" by Brian Flemming, available through Fair Use press

posted by Dan 12:44 PM
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Blogs? Yes, for you cheap!

Great swatch of diologue at MightyGirl between junior high girls. Truly, All You Need Is Like. It's the 9.10.03 entry, just scroll down if you don't see it. Man I love eavesdropping on teenage conversations. Is that weird?

Also, please go over to Jeffrey Cranor's blog and encourage him to post material, because sometimes I feel like I'm all alone here, posting scenes, my proverbial privates dangling in the wind. I need someone to dangle with me. Is that weird?

posted by Dan 10:57 AM
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Wednesday, September 10, 2003

 

Plastic Money

(The living room of a modest suburban house. Front door, a door to the kitchen, some stairs leading up.

RHONDA, in a blouse and skirt. MITCH, in a mover’s jumpsuit. MITCH is looking over the room, taking inventory. RHONDA is looking over a bill.)

RHONDA
I’ve never been very good at math. Adjectives and adverbs were more my speed. Still, what I’m reading can’t be right, even if my arithmetic’s off.

MITCH
Call Accounting. Discuss it with them.

RHONDA
Oh, the Accounting Department’s staffed by computers. You can’t hold a discussion with computers. It’s like looking for deep conversation at Hooters. I want to talk to flesh-and-blood, not some silicon stud insisting I select one of six options. My problem doesn’t fit in options one through six.

MITCH
Complaints is option four.

RHONDA
It’s not a complaint, I don’t complain, I just have a grain of a doubt about the assumptions behind this bill. Whoever had the gumption to say I owe this number doesn’t know my situation, didn’t give consideration to a single mother’s expenses.

MITCH
Whatever you say.

RHONDA
Don’t you think this bill is a bit too high? Even if the numbers add up, it’s still a wee bit too high?

MITCH
Guess you shouldn’ta bought all that stuff, then.

RHONDA
Look, sir, I’m not one of those deadbeats who bought a Nintendo, but never intended to pay for it. I don’t see the mall as an all-you-can-eat buffet. But every widget I bought required three more to make it go.

MITCH
Always remember, batteries are never included.

RHONDA
I searched earth and heaven for sales, but the prices were all sky-high.

MITCH
Shoulda tightened your belt.

RHONDA
But I needed these for my little girl.

MITCH
That’s an irony, ain’t it?

RHONDA
Look sir, look sir, I know you’re just doing your job, just a by-the-hour slob trying to make it to five.

MITCH
Six.

RHONDA
The Fed picks you apart with assorted taxes, not to mention the payments to your HMO...Lord I know that song. Here, go over this bill with me.

MITCH
I got other things to look for.

RHONDA
Take a moment, please, I’ll make you a ham sandwich.

MITCH
I’m not here for what’s in your fridge.

RHONDA
They charged me four thousand dollars for security. Ten thousand dollars for a sense of national purpose. Thirty-five hundred for faith in my elected officials.

MITCH
You paid a lot for that muffler, all right.

RHONDA
Nora needs them for school. Little girls can be so tough on the have-nots. I couldn’t put Nora in a bad spot with her peer group.

MITCH
I’m like that Indian, one tear. Soup to nuts, I still gotta collect. Problem is, I could haul out the whole joint, it still wouldn’t cover the bill.

RHONDA
Yes, isn’t it outrageous? If you could just tell them -

MITCH
Where’s your girl?

RHONDA
What?

MITCH
Nora. How old is she, eight? Eight-year-olds bring top dollar.

RHONDA
Don’t even make jokes.

MITCH
Yeah, folks always pretend they don’t know what I come for. Like they don’t read the papers. You know the President said it’s belt-tightening time.

MORE...

The Boston Globe, September 9th, 2003: Bus Aides Admit Iraq Missteps; Say Estimates on Oil Revenue, Damage Off

posted by Dan 1:43 PM
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Tuesday, September 09, 2003

 

My wife and I had a great time in New Orleans. It's one of our favorite cities. Nevertheless...

Not Exactly Stanley & Stella
or
A Series of Theatrical Snapshots Depicting Our Trip to the Exotic and Mysterious City of New Orleans, With Only Slight Exaggerations Made to the Events Concerning the Remarkable True Characters Dwelling Therein, With Truly Exaggerated Musical Interludes

(A bare stage, with minimal furniture and light changes to depict different areas in and around New Orleans.

A bar on Bourbon Street, midday. An unseen live band plays “Sweet Home Alabama.” TOURIST HUSBAND and TOURIST WIFE enter and head to the bar.)

HUSBAND
Three for one, the sign said three for one. God bless New Orleans.

WIFE
Is that just beer? ‘Cause I don’t want a beer. I want a drinky drink.

HUSBAND
Ask the bartender. God bless New Orleans, is all I know.

WIFE
God bless New Orleans.
(Shouting over the music to a bartender, also unseen:)
‘Scuse me! ‘Scuse me! Is that three-for-one just beers?!
(A BURLY MAN enters, beans HUSBAND over the head with a clown hammer, drags his limp body offstage.)
I said is the three-for-one deal just for beers?! No, I want a Jack and Ginger Ale! I said I don’t want a beer, no beer. I want a Jack Daniels with some ginger ale. Oh really? Three times as much Jack Daniels? Yeah, I’ll have that. Hold on, I’ll see what my husband wants.
(She turns to where her husband was.)
Dan, what d’you - ? Dan? Dan? (turns to bartender:) ‘Kay my husband was here like two seconds ago. I don’t really mind you guys shanghai-ing him, as long as I’m compensated for the loss of his income. Yeah, five bucks’ll be fine.
(Music changes to Zydeco, repleat with accordion. HUSBAND enters, wearing a metal washboard, which he semi-rhythmically strokes with two spoons. He and the BURLY MAN dance across and off. WIFE follows, in pursuit.)

MORE...

posted by Dan 12:04 AM
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