Post by Zevon on Jul 4, 2007 12:42:12 GMT -6
(The camera finds a small Ohio house in a small Ohio town where a joyous reunion is about to occur. A black mid-nineties Ford Taurus pulls into the drive. An excited POW Eastern Heavyweight Champion pops out the driver’s door, clad in white ring gear with title around his waist. He quickly skips to the grey front door framed by two maples. He bolts into the house as the camera switches to an inside view. Zevon sees the cameraman in his humble Ohio home and emits a muffled swear.)
Zevon: How the hell did you get in here?
(Zevon’s attention quickly turns back to the reason for the season. An orange domestic housecat saunters through the small entry hall. He gives a quick glance to Zevon before emitting a weak screech and sauntering towards his freshly filled bowls of nourishment.)
Zevon: Mr. Kitters! How have you been? We haven’t spoken in hours!
(Zevon follows Kitters into the kitchen, where the champ is greeted by a smile from a thirty-something Hispanic woman. She is quite lovely in her apron and well-fitting jeans.)
Zevon: Hola, Juana! I see you have taken perfect care of Mr. Kitters!
(The camera pans over to find a sink full of dirty dishes and a counter rife with debris. It pans back to find cat bowls filled to the brim with food and bottled water.)
Zevon: A bonus for you, kind Latino goddess.
(Zevon bends his knees to affectionately pat Mr. Kitters on the head.)
Zevon: Fill up, my noble companion, we have but three days. Three days of exceptional quality bonding.
(The only response Mr. Kitters gives the champ is a quick bite on the wrist.)
Zevon: Excuse me, I shall leave you to your nourishment. I have business (Zevon leers at the camera) to deal with in the meantime.
(Zevon rises to his feet.)
Zevon: Juana, take the next three days off. Spend time with your family as I spend time with mine.
(Zevon exists to his living room where the camera finds a cozy yet dated environment. Zevon sits on a cream colored plush couch and beckons for the camera to follow.)
Zevon: You want some sort of interview don’t you? Very well!
Cameraman: Actually, we just want to follow you around as you prepare for John Anthony at Red, White, and Bruised.
Zevon: Blast John Anthony and blast Red, White, and Bruised. I am fully prepared and here to rest and bond with my majestic friend.
(Mr. Kitters jumps to Zevon’s lap, giving him a good claw while curling up for a nap. Zevon pets Kitters much to Zevon’s pleasure, Kitters doesn’t seem to care.)
Zevon: You are here, and you want me to insult John Anthony so I will do as such.
John Anthony, I bite my thumb at thee and your streetwalking ladyfriend.
(Zevon grabs the remote off a stand next to the couch and flips on the television. Dramatic Spanish voices fill the room. Zevon watches in bemusement for a few seconds before flipping the channel. Oprah’s overly jubilant audience worships her every word. Zevon peers back at the camera.)
Zevon: You are filming me watching television? Have you nothing better to do?
(Zevon waits a response but receives none.)
Zevon: Not speaking to me? Playing the silent camera game like this is some sort of soap opera? Very well then, waste your videotape as I engage in riveting household activities and bonding with my friend.
(Zevon returns his attention to the TV set, flipping the channel to find Wolf Blitzer babbling about some irrelevant murder investigation. Zevon turns back to the camera, peeved.)
Zevon: Here we go again…might as well entertain the miscreants. I see by Wolf’s ramblings that there is some sort of major holiday today. Some more patriotic bullshit to feed to the masses. A day when American’s everywhere celebrate their country by grilling German sausages and driving Japanese motor carriages to watch vibrant displays of Chinese fireworks.
If only people would honor what is right in this country, like Eastern Heavyweight Champions who are great moral beings. Instead they are more attracted to “new stories” about rich white girls disappearing in Aruba and to Oprah bitch about obesity. This is the same immoral America that produces scum like John Anthony. A man who engages in a noble profession as a side job. A man who wallows in decadence and works for a criminal organization. A man who plans to further defile a wrestling ring by proposing to some disgrace of a woman. A woman who couldn’t last ten minutes in Juana’s hardworking shoes.
Bleep America and its God and its Oprah. Bleep the stars and stripes and its bigotry and murderous ways. Bleep Rupert Murdoch and his rancorous media empire. Bleep the President and the troops and the war profiteers.
Praise Mexico and its hardworking feline caretakers. Praise the dissidents who protect and honor the truth. Praise the Eastern Heavyweight Champion who respects and defends the integrity of professional wrestling. And praise the noble souls who support him in his quest.
(The scene fades as Zevon lowers his head to admire his feline companion, continuing to affectionately pet the majestic being.)
Zevon: How the hell did you get in here?
(Zevon’s attention quickly turns back to the reason for the season. An orange domestic housecat saunters through the small entry hall. He gives a quick glance to Zevon before emitting a weak screech and sauntering towards his freshly filled bowls of nourishment.)
Zevon: Mr. Kitters! How have you been? We haven’t spoken in hours!
(Zevon follows Kitters into the kitchen, where the champ is greeted by a smile from a thirty-something Hispanic woman. She is quite lovely in her apron and well-fitting jeans.)
Zevon: Hola, Juana! I see you have taken perfect care of Mr. Kitters!
(The camera pans over to find a sink full of dirty dishes and a counter rife with debris. It pans back to find cat bowls filled to the brim with food and bottled water.)
Zevon: A bonus for you, kind Latino goddess.
(Zevon bends his knees to affectionately pat Mr. Kitters on the head.)
Zevon: Fill up, my noble companion, we have but three days. Three days of exceptional quality bonding.
(The only response Mr. Kitters gives the champ is a quick bite on the wrist.)
Zevon: Excuse me, I shall leave you to your nourishment. I have business (Zevon leers at the camera) to deal with in the meantime.
(Zevon rises to his feet.)
Zevon: Juana, take the next three days off. Spend time with your family as I spend time with mine.
(Zevon exists to his living room where the camera finds a cozy yet dated environment. Zevon sits on a cream colored plush couch and beckons for the camera to follow.)
Zevon: You want some sort of interview don’t you? Very well!
Cameraman: Actually, we just want to follow you around as you prepare for John Anthony at Red, White, and Bruised.
Zevon: Blast John Anthony and blast Red, White, and Bruised. I am fully prepared and here to rest and bond with my majestic friend.
(Mr. Kitters jumps to Zevon’s lap, giving him a good claw while curling up for a nap. Zevon pets Kitters much to Zevon’s pleasure, Kitters doesn’t seem to care.)
Zevon: You are here, and you want me to insult John Anthony so I will do as such.
John Anthony, I bite my thumb at thee and your streetwalking ladyfriend.
(Zevon grabs the remote off a stand next to the couch and flips on the television. Dramatic Spanish voices fill the room. Zevon watches in bemusement for a few seconds before flipping the channel. Oprah’s overly jubilant audience worships her every word. Zevon peers back at the camera.)
Zevon: You are filming me watching television? Have you nothing better to do?
(Zevon waits a response but receives none.)
Zevon: Not speaking to me? Playing the silent camera game like this is some sort of soap opera? Very well then, waste your videotape as I engage in riveting household activities and bonding with my friend.
(Zevon returns his attention to the TV set, flipping the channel to find Wolf Blitzer babbling about some irrelevant murder investigation. Zevon turns back to the camera, peeved.)
Zevon: Here we go again…might as well entertain the miscreants. I see by Wolf’s ramblings that there is some sort of major holiday today. Some more patriotic bullshit to feed to the masses. A day when American’s everywhere celebrate their country by grilling German sausages and driving Japanese motor carriages to watch vibrant displays of Chinese fireworks.
If only people would honor what is right in this country, like Eastern Heavyweight Champions who are great moral beings. Instead they are more attracted to “new stories” about rich white girls disappearing in Aruba and to Oprah bitch about obesity. This is the same immoral America that produces scum like John Anthony. A man who engages in a noble profession as a side job. A man who wallows in decadence and works for a criminal organization. A man who plans to further defile a wrestling ring by proposing to some disgrace of a woman. A woman who couldn’t last ten minutes in Juana’s hardworking shoes.
Bleep America and its God and its Oprah. Bleep the stars and stripes and its bigotry and murderous ways. Bleep Rupert Murdoch and his rancorous media empire. Bleep the President and the troops and the war profiteers.
Praise Mexico and its hardworking feline caretakers. Praise the dissidents who protect and honor the truth. Praise the Eastern Heavyweight Champion who respects and defends the integrity of professional wrestling. And praise the noble souls who support him in his quest.
(The scene fades as Zevon lowers his head to admire his feline companion, continuing to affectionately pet the majestic being.)
