Gil Mann’s Really Let Himself Go to Hell: The Final Eekday

And with this, Eek Week mercifully draws to a close. If anybody needs me, I’ll be out vacillating between decrying the proliferation of sexually provocative Halloween costumes and staring at women in sexually provocative Halloween costumes.

Rumproast Films presents:

THE HOWLING

(No, not that one. No, not the one with Sybil Danning. No, not the one where they’re part kangaroo—look, it’s got nothing to do with the werewolf movies, okay? Just… you’ll see)

EXT: Parking lot at nighttime. A lone figure winds her way to her car. A young female with short dark hair, she bears a striking resemblance to TV personality Rachel Maddow.

WOMAN: (into cell phone) Hey, it’s me. Yeah, just running a little late. I’ll be home in a few. ‘Kay, bye.

As she attempts to unlock the driver’s side door, a figure dressed all in black wearing a wolf mask sneaks up behind her and knocks her out, dragging her off. Fade-out.

Fade-in. INT: WOMAN awakes, slumped in front of a table, handcuffed to a chair. She’s in an underground dungeon lined with monitors replaying short clips of news broadcasts from 2000. Against one wall are mannequins under a handmade banner reading “Average Americans.” They’re dressed in overalls, straw hats, T-shirts with embroidered patriotic images, etc. Blown-up photographs of Nobel Laureate Al Gore adorn the walls, many with the words “Mr. President” scrawled across them in blood. There are also numerous images of media figues such as Chris Matthews, Maureen Dowd, and the late Tim Russert, all with their eyes cut out. A chimpanzee paces back and forth across the room, wearing a tank-top with “BUSH” written on the front in magic marker. This is the lair of THE HOWLER. A door creaks open and a dark figure enters, pointing an accusatory finger at WOMAN.

THE HOWLER: That brilliant liberal was Rachel Maddow, our own corporate-chosen Rhodes Scholar.

WOMAN: You think I’m… no, mister, you’ve got the wrong…

THE HOWLER: (filming her with a handheld video camera) As always, you have to watch the tape (click here) to see our own Rhodes Scholar mugging and clowning her way through the night. But in this passage, Maddow treats her liberal audience as if their average IQ is 11.

WOMAN: I’m telling you, my name’s not…

THE HOWLER: Is Maddow really as dumb as she acts? It’s always possible, of course. But we are sick, right up to our ears, of the silly, mugging games she incessantly plays.

WOMAN: Are you going to kill me?

THE HOWLER: (speaking directly into camera) We started this web site, long ago, because we refused to take it any more (refused to be a fool, in Don Corleone’s words—because we were sick of seeing overpaid corporate hacks come into our home each weekday night and lie right straight in our faces. We were tired of seeing them make up silly sh*t; we were tired of seeing them mug and clown and prance around on the air each evening. Last week, Maddow’s loud, high-decibel conduct was highly reminiscent of those bad old days—the bad old days of the Wars Against Clinton and Gore, the wars the “career liberal” world accepted. In those days, General Electric’s cable arm was working hard against Big Dems; for whatever reason, the GE channel is now pimping hard in the other direction. But last week, Maddow was selling the same kind of sh*t her network sold you ten years ago. The targets had changed, but the clowning continued. As did the blatant misstatements.

WOMAN: Listen, if you’ll just let me expl…

He slaps her across the face.

THE HOWLER: Welcome to life in Somalia! Modern societies can’t run on dumb. But the progressive world is now honoring dumb—as long as the dumb comes from those on our side. Imagine the pride! The pride we progressives felt last night, as we gazed upon the brilliance of Our Own Rhodes Scholar!

WOMAN: If you won’t listen I can’t…

THE HOWLER: Beyotch! If you can’t control the things you do, you need to get yourself off the air! Stop telling yourself that you’re a Rhodes Scholar. Go somewhere else. Get some help.

WOMAN: (momentarily shocked into lucidity) Wow, “beyotch?” Really? I mean, aside from being sexist, nobody’s used that for like ten y…

He slaps her again, silencing her. He retrieves a golden-tressed mannequin and props it up across from her.

THE HOWLER: To Maddow, this young woman was just one more “tea-bagger”—one more person to be mocked and insulted, then tossed on a pile like a big smack of gob. The young woman hadn’t gone to Stanford, after all—and she’d never been a Rhodes Scholar! She was thus ripe for sexual insult from a deeply disrespectful young host.

WOMAN: She… she’s not even real, mister, she’s a dum…

THE HOWLER: That young woman was worried about her children. Frankly, she ought to be worried about them—though Maddow, drawing gigantic swag, will never have to worry like that. At any rate, Maddow was soon speaking with former DNC chairman Howard Dean.

He removes the mannequin’s blonde wig and replaces it with one made of close-cropped, greyish-white hair, then exits the room.

WOMAN begins to weep softly, then catches sight of her cell-phone on the floor. She stretches out her leg and finds that she can just barely reach it with her toe. After a struggle, she manages to get hold of it. She flips it open and dials frantically.

WOMAN: C’mon c’mon c’mon, pick up, please pick up…

The door slowly swings open.

THE HOWLER: Maddow pretended to be making a phone call explaining that Bybee is under indictment. With that, she had completed her set-up.

WOMAN: Oh God.

THE HOWLER: (snatching the cell-phone away) The spirit of Newhart hung in the air as Maddow hung up the phone.

WOMAN: I was just…

THE HOWLER: Should we feel embarrassed—should it somehow seem “wrong”—when Maddow stages such skits? Not necessarily, although we’ve seen versions of this movie before, and those films have tended to end somewhat poorly. But Maddow persists with her fun. We think it’s beginning to hurt.

He grabs a fistful of her hair and slams her head against the table.

WOMAN: Ow, my head! What do you want?

THE HOWLER: That’s the most direct question Maddow asked—and even here, she talks about “specific interrogation techniques,” not about “torture” or “water-boarding.”

WOMAN: That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just going to keep torturing me until…

THE HOWLER: Pathetic. In this question, Maddow does mention specific techniques. But the question she asks is hypothetical.

In a flash of motion, he grabs her free hand. holds it against the table, and cuts her pinky off with a hacksaw.

WOMAN: Oh, Christ! Owwww!

THE HOWLER: Rachel Maddow, clowning around, invented the acronym “OCO.”

WOMAN: You cut off my finger!

THE HOWLER (tossing away severed digit): By the way, do you want to see Maddow’s original segment? It seems to have disappeared.

WOMAN: You think that’s funny, you sick son of a…

THE HOWLER: Once again, Maddow pretended to be embarrassed by the embarrassing word-play. (Is anyone more disingenuous?)

WOMAN: Oh, Christ. Owwww… you bastard, look what you did to my hand!

THE HOWLER: Sadly, Maddow failed to cite the Administration’s flat denial of this peculiar charge—and she made the nonsense even sillier with her “OCO” fun.

WOMAN: My… My family’s rich, okay? They’ll pay a lot of money to get me back. I’m sure we can work out some kind of…

THE HOWLER: Meanwhile, when it comes to process, Maddow’s efforts on the budget were more like a D-minus joke. Do you have the slightest idea how reconciliation will, or should, work?

WOMAN: Okay, no, you’re right, I am Rachel Maddow.

THE HOWLER: And hurrah! She now corrected her unfortunate bungle, saying all the things which follow. Our Own Rhodes Scholar corrected her error. Or did she?  And that was important, because, just three nights before, Maddow had unwisely said the opposite.

WOMAN: No, I swear, it’s true. Rachel Maddow, that’s me. I’m a host on uh… CNBC and um… no, wait, MSNBC! And I’m gay, right? Yeah, I’m a lesbian, which is um...(sheepishly, with an edge of panic) which is funny when you think about it, since I hated Bush so much (laughs weakly).

THE HOWLER: (clearly unamused) And so, a familiar dodge appeared. After treating us to a few quick dick jokes, Maddow pretended to explain why she’s been behaving this way: “I can’t help myself,” she said. Again, we ask our basic question: Has anyone on cable news ever been this disingenuous?

WOMAN: Oh God, please, just tell me what you want me to say, I’ll say anyth…

THE HOWLER: Sorry. Our Own Rhodes Scholar didn’t exactly correct her error. Instead, she staged a long, mugging/clowning, disingenuous segment in which she almost seemed to be claiming that she’d been brilliantly right all along. We’ve rarely seen a segment that was more disingenuous—or more ponderous, more pseudo, more confusing, more dumb. In fact, that segment is amazingly dumb. It was done by Our Own Rhodes Scholar. But then, Maddow is a remarkably weak political analyst—and she sometimes seems to be weirdly dishonest. The progressive world will never flourish with people like this at the top of the heap—defining what we know, setting the progressive agenda. (Recently, the progressive agenda seems to be sexsexsexsexsex.)

THE HOWLER, seemingly overcome with revulsion, exits. At this point WOMAN realizes that there’s someone else in the dungeon with her. In a rusty cage in the corner sits a pretty young redhead, knees drawn up to her chest. WOMAN startles.

WOMAN #2: Shhh, it’s okay.

WOMAN: What are you doing down here?

WOMAN #2: He thinks I’m someone named Anna Deavere Cox or something. Says he’ll let me go if I renounce Wonkette for complicity in furthering right-wing memes and for all the anal sex jokes. I keep telling him I don’t even know what a Wonkette is but he won’t listen.

WOMAN: We’re gonna die down here, aren’t we?

WOMAN #2: No, we are not. Honey, listen to me, okay? You’ve gotta be strong. I found a notch in one of these bars a few nights ago and I’ve been working at it with a nail file, it’s almost ready to give. The next time he comes in here, I need you to distract him for as long as possible so I can get out of this cage, then we’ll gang up on him. There’s some netting on the floor there, I’ll throw it over his head and we’ll just hit him with everything we can. Can you handle that?

WOMAN: I… I think so.

WOMAN #2: I know you can. Shhh, here he comes.

THE HOWLER: And a special new twist was supplied: Throughout the evening, Maddow and Cox pretended that their embarrassing chatter was the fault of the clueless conservatives who mailed those tea bags to members of Congress.

WOMAN looks at WOMAN #2, WOMAN #2 nods.

WOMAN: (affecting Southern drawl) Yew’ve been a bayud, bayud mayun.

THE HOWLER stops in his tracks. He turns slownly to face WOMAN, eyes wide behind his wolf mask.

WOMAN: Ah’m Al Gore and yew’ve made me vury vury unhappy.

THE HOWLER: Sorry. That isn’t “quoting.” You can say that you’re just quoting someone.

WOMAN: No, It’s really muh-ee, Al Gore, and ah’m vury disappointed in yew.

THE HOWLER: You can say it again and again, as Maddow insistently did. That doesn’t turn an embellished paraphrase into an actual “quote.”

WOMAN: Thank Gawd Bush was uhlected instead of muh-ee. Ah would’ve been a turrible presidayent.

THE HOWLER: Rhodes Scholars tend to know how to quote people—but some may not be obsessively honest. Maddow tends to do this sort of thing a lot. It may be a function of youth and inexperience. But we think it’s a killer for progressive interests when such people worm into power.

WOMAN: Ah mean, kin yew imagine whut it would’ve been lahk if ah’d been presidayent on nahn uhleven? Everyone knows us Democrats are wuh-eek on nashunal security. (protracted, dramatic sigh)

THE HOWLER: (now in a blind rage) Here at THE HOWLER, we’ve had it with Maddow—with her mugging, her clowning, her self-adoration, her reliance on a professional dope like “our friend Ana Marie Cox.” (For the record, Cox strikes us as very bright—except when she’s doing her own clowning and career-building. As she did yesterday, making the idiotic remarks which Media Matters flagged. Just click here.) We’ve had it with Maddow playing the fool, treating her progressive audience as if they’re nine years old. We’ve had it with her brilliant jokes (about “newt-tracting,” for example)—even as she hands us rubes the dumbest analyses possible.

By this time WOMAN #2 has broken free; she slowly creeps up behind THE HOWLER and throws the net over his head. He flails wildly as both women set upon him.

THE HOWLER: We liberals can be happy at last—as a big net keeps dumbing us down.

WOMAN kicks at him as WOMAN #2 smashes a chair over his head.

WOMAN #2: Take that, you fucking sack of shit!

THE HOWLER: Beavis and Butt-head are, of course, Rachel Maddow and Ana Marie Cox (real name!), staging a third consecutive night of Maddow Show dirty-word hijinks.

WOMAN finds a hacksaw blade within reach and stabs him in the gut.

THE HOWLER: (looking quizzically at his gushing wound) Hackish progressives will do what Maddow did.

WOMAN: (stabbing repeatedly) Why! Won’t! You! DIE!

THE HOWLER: Once again, we’d have to say that Maddow’s questions were weak and quite mushy.

WOMAN: DIIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!

She plunges the blade into his heart. He lies still.

WOMAN #2 checks his pockets, finds WOMAN’S cell-phone and a small key, releases WOMAN from handcuffs. They walk, huddling together, toward the exit. The chimpanzee in the “BUSH” tank-top suddenly appears, lets out a shriek, and attacks. WOMAN turns, still clutching the hacksaw blade, and the monkey is impaled. It whimpers and dies, collapsing in a heap.

THE HOWLER: (speaking through a mouthful of blood) “Rachel pokes the ape.”

WOMAN #2 gently leans WOMAN against the wall, disconnects a large TV monitor, carries it over to where THE HOWLER lies, and raises it high above her.

WOMAN #2: Got a message for you, scumbag. Wonkette says to shove it up your ass.

She brings the monitor down on his head. Sparks fly, his legs twitch briefly, and then it’s over.

EXT: The two women stumble out into the daylight. WOMAN #2 dials 911 on WOMAN’s cell-phone.

WOMAN #2: Hello? Yes, I… we need the Baltimore police and an ambulance. We’re out by… hold on… looks like the service exit off Route 193, Colesville Road. A man’s dead. Yeah yeah, we’ll wait here, but just… hurry, okay? I’m with Jon Stewart and he’s lost a lot of blood.

THE END

...?

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 10/31/09 at 04:13 PM • Permalink

Categories: Geek SpeakKnee SlappersMoviesPolitics

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Marry me God damn it!

A tour de force, gil. The Legend of Sourby Manor is no myth;  Assistant producers won’t even go out there once the sun goes down, and when MSNBC does a live remote, they always drive the long way round. And they hang a picture of Tommy Lee Jones from the rear-view mirror, just in case.

Hilarious! Way more scary and realistic than that dumb Howler movie in which the female newscaster appears to turn into Benji on the air…

Bravo, sir!

Thanks a ton, guys, and sorry to be a pest but I’ve got a follow-up: I’d originally thought it would be too busy if each ‘THE HOWLER:’ dialogue-prompt was a link to the post in question, but looking back, I think that was probably the way to go (both aesthetically and because it would show I didn’t just pull from one bugshit rant—low estimate, seven or eight, and keep in mind I threw back more than half the stuff I flagged). So my question is, does not doing that make it look like there’s something sketchy about my quote-mining? A couple of ‘em are cut off at the comma because the rest of the sentence was too specific about timeframes or whatever, but it’s pretty amazing how little you have to futz around with Bob’s words to turn him into a psycho-killer.

The “beyotch” actually rattled me. That would suck the air out of a frat party, much less a progressive think piece. But yeah, keep linking approvingly to this cat, libs.

And Betty, I’m not sure why you wanna troll a brother, but if you’re gonna diss the greatest movie ever to use lycanthropy to satirize the self-actualization movement, you’d better be ready to back that shit up. But yeah, I never got why Dee Wallace turned into an Ewok at the end there. Maybe their snout budget ran out.

I’d originally thought it would be too busy if each ‘THE HOWLER:’ dialogue-prompt was a link to the post in question, but looking back, I think that was probably the way to go

DO IT! You must.

Okay, so could somebody give me the answer I was looking for?

Nah, you’re right. And really, when has a Palin ever not been right?

gil - forgot to say thanks for posting the link to the opening of that movie NOT!  I think that maybe two or three years ago I actually stopped sleeping with my hands tucked under the covers, and I mean tight under the covers, and I would occasionally let my hand slip out.  NEVER AGAIN! This and “Don’t look now” are the two scariest movies I have ever seen.  “Don’t look now” had me sleeping with the lights on for years…that fucking dwarf scared the ever loving treacle out of me…

Now that was some creepy shit, that dwarf.

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