Monday, December 14, 2009

Zombie Woof (part 3)

The return of a holiday classic.

"Left me feeling disturbed and vaguely dirty for days. I like it!"
- Larry King, December 2008

Welcome back to Hardball, folks. I feel I need to apologize again for what happened just before the break. Our regular panelist Pat Buchanan had to be escorted from the studio by security after he erupted in a fit of petulant frenzy over our guests' theory on Frank Zappa's missing days... What was that all about? Now let's get back to Ann Rice and Reverend Rick Warren and continue our special Zappadan Hardball.

I'm still here too, Chris.
That's right, Margaret, but with Pat gone, we don't have anyone on the right to balance you out, so please just sit quietly. So, Rick, before Zappa became a Zombie, who do you think would have won in a guitar playing showdown, Jesus or Frank?
Well, Chris, even though I believe Jesus is God, I don't really envision him as a Guitar God. Perhaps if He had practiced really hard...
(Meanwhile, having come to the conclusion that Zappadan was nothing more than the claptrap adoration of a member of the living dead, Pat heads up to 18th and U to drown his sorrow with Joe's prime cut rib-eye steak and expensive booze. His world has turned gray, much like his steak, which Joe has overcooked...)
...and another thing, Joe, it's not just the zombie business that's got me down, it's the fact that Zappadan has become way too commercialized, you know? ...but mainly it's the zombie business...
I hear ya, pal... Howza bout I buy ya one of our Thorogood specials to make up for the steak that I botched - one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
Sounds good, Joe, but could you top-shelf it for me? One Dalwhinnie single malt, any age over 20, one Booker's True Barrel, and one Bud Light in a bottle. I guess that I want one more really good round before I go and kill myself.
You got it, suicide chump. Matter of fact, I happen to have in my personal stock some Dalwhinnie that's seen 35 years and sped on past. Hey, Thedy, come over here and try to cheer this guy up, whydoncha?
Hi, Patrick... Do you remember me... at all? We met exactly fifteen years ago, on a night exactly like tonight, at least in the sense that you were all bummed out and feeling sorry for yourself, drinking heavily, and eating Joe's world famous rib-eye steak.
Thedy Sue Hill? Oh my God, I remember! You... you showed me a particular kindness that night... on a night when my whole world was caving in. The presidency had eluded my grasp the previous year and I was... there was a strange man... clean, but not wholesome... the smell of the grave was in the air... there was a Bay breeze, as I recall, and the sound of a trombone, blatting into the night...
Yes, your sister was standing up-wind, but that was not the cause of your distress. Don't you recall? The strange man was one you had missed before, when you left 'Crossfire' to work for the zombie Reagan.
Give me a break, Thedy Sue, there is no way that Ronald Reagan was a zombie like Jesus Christ or Frank Zappa. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever... Wait a second... That strange man I met... Was it... Frank Zappa?
Patrick, don't you recall, he came to see you that night, and to tell you many things about your life. And, of course, to get a couple of Joe's world famous rib-eyes. Think back...
Pat? Pat Buchanan? This is the voice of your conscience baby... uh, I just wanted to check one thing out with you...
Hey! Hey! Zip it, Mister. I know who you are. I remember your fight to legitimize obscenity. And I remember what you did to the Turtles. Trisha Nixon used to love those guys. And one more thing, buster, I still read the news and I happen to know for a fact that you died recently.
As did your political career, Pat. But me, you know what I always say - The present day composer refuses to die. Hey, Pat, listen to this...
Careful, Frank, you adorable dead idiot! Not only did your playing make my hair curl, but you almost made me spill my drink.
That's alcohol abuse, Zappa! I've got nothing to lose at this point by giving you a real thrashing. Furthermore, I don't think that you have an iota of talent for that horn. Now put down the trombone and put up your dukes.
Please spare me the self-pity, Buchanan. And I swear to you that I will master this horn long before you see political office. But... I'm here to tell you what the world would have been like if Pat Buchanan had never been born.
Are... You aren't saying that I'm going to be visited by three ghosts, are you? Better give me another top shelf Thorogood special, Joe.
You got it, pal. One 37 year old Dalwhinnie single malt, one Booker's True Barrel, and one Bud Light in a bottle, comin' right up. Anything for you, Mr Zappa?
Yeah, Joe, whip me up a couple rib-eyes, extra rare. And Pat, don't you get greedy asking for ghosts when you've already got a zombie. Let's talk about the past, and what would have happened if there was no Pat Buchanan. It was August 8th, 1974. Remember that date, Numbnuts? You had tears in your eyes on that day, as I recall. Richard Nixon was reading the last speech you would ever write for him.
I have never been a quitter. To leave office before my term is completed is abhorrent to every instinct in my body. But as President, I must put the interest of America first. America needs a full-time President and a full-time Congress, particularly at this time...
Yes... That was such a sad day. It nearly broke my heart to write those words, and then to have to hear Nixon have to say them...
Yeah, yeah, yeah. But let me tell you something, Pat. If you had never been born, Richard Nixon would have given a very different speech that day.
You sons of bitches think you can take Richard Nixon down, do you? Well, we're all going down together. Moments before I took this podium, I launched a full scale nuclear attack on Russia, China, and just for fun, Israel. You should have about five minutes left to pray...
You're saying that because I was born, Richard Nixon never went insane and started World War III?
Don't make me repeat myself, Bozo. Nixon was already insane. Now lets talk about the present, 1993. Things aren't all that bad for you, are they? Whatcha up to, Patty Creamcheese?
Well, I'm back on Crossfire... That's kind of boring. And I've got a daily radio show, but... don't snicker at this... It's on AM...
AM? Bwahahahahahaha. Oh man, you really are hurting. But let me cheer you up... I know you really wanted to be president, but do you know what's happening to Bill Clinton, even as we speak? He's getting his cock sucked in the White House pantry by a 22 year old groupie. Now, you wouldn't want that to happen to you, would you?
Good heavens, no! I had no idea...But Frank, what about my future? Do you see things looking up for me there?
So you think you have a future, do you Mr Blueblood? Well, I'll tell you a few things - first of all you're going to be on Crossfire for a long time. AM radio, too, Bwahahahahaha... Pardon me. But then, you will run for president again. And in 1996, you are going to be a heck of a lot more successful than you were in 1992.
I will?... I guess I had better stay alive, if what you're saying is to be believed. But how do I know anything you've said to me is...
You don't. Okay, George Bush... the first one, but you don't know that yet... says that he won't run again in 96... You announce your candidacy and begin to develop a large populist following. The people start calling you - can you dig it - Pitchfork Pat.
Yes, Mister Zappa I can absolutely dig it. Tell me more!
Ooh, sounds as if you want to live now... Okay, so then you move on, campaign heavily in New Hampshire, and guess what? You actually win the motherfucker.
It's a dream come true. Nixon, Reagan, even Crossfire, they've all been building blocks on my... Tell me, Zappa, tell me what happens next? And let me see your lips moving in a truth telling manner.
They're a little gimpy, Buchanan, what with all the rigor mortis... Joe, I need those rib-eyes, pronto - but I will tell you this much; you follow up with three more big states... Alaska, Missouri and Louisiana... I'm afraid I can tell you no more. It could interfere with your life's quest, and with my search for rib-eyes... Joe, hurry it up for God's sake. I'm so hungry I could eat Pat Buchanan.
What do you mean, you can't tell me more? Why you perverted piece of sub-human cancer pond scum, I've got half a mind to...
No, Pat no! He hasn't eaten and you're making him angry! Don't you know the terrible consequences that can befall a man who taunts a hungry zombie?
Half a mind is better than none, Buchanan, particularly when the service is as slow as it is tonight. Hand me that mustard, Thedy Sue. Prepare to meet your maker, Buchanan... Well, not your maker, technically speaking, but you get the picture... BRAINS!


to be concluded 12/17

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