Never Ending Campaign

Saturday, February 10, 1996

Call it Conspiracy 7

Subj:  Conspiracy VII
Date:  96-02-10 13:19:12 EDT
From:  JGetz          

Fade out, fade in to INT: SMITHERS residence. Title effect: 1996.

SMITHERS:  Why did I do it? I keep asking myself. Why didn't I just walk
away? At any time. So many chances...
BART: Wow! Look at those backwards little numbers...right next to where it
says "XOF."
LISA: He's in pain, Bart.
BART: He is not in pain.
LISA: Can't you see? Just look at him. Think about his feelings.
BART: He's an adult. Adults don't have feelings.
LISA: Yes they do.
BART: (surprised) Adults have...feelings?
LISA: Oh, Mr. Smithers. That must have been so humiliating for you. The
SMITHER: Actually it was kind of...
LISA: (glancing quickly to cutaway of an old, framed b+w print of a young,
long-haired SMITHERS in a peace demonstration) But the guilt.
SMITHERS: Yes...the guilt. (burying face in hands, sobbing)
BART: Yeah, yeah, boohoo.'s like your fault that the country sucks,
LISA: And that's why the idealism of the 60's came to naught. Now I
understand. A conspiracy. Wait'll Oliver Stone hears about this...
BART: He's not going to hear about this.
LISA: What's that supposed to mean?

BART smiles smugly. 3-second, almost subliminal clip of STONE in limo in
Dealy Plaza, Dallas. A van marked “GRASSY KNOLL EXTERMINATORS” pulls up to
the book depository. Echoing sound of footsteps in stairwell, rifles cocking.
Cut back to--

SMITHERS: It's my fault. All my fault.
LISA: How can you live with yourself?
SMITHERS: (glancing sadly at shelf of still-packaged Barbies) I...I have my
LISA: Wow. A disturbing Philip K. Dickian metaphor for the alienation of
modern man.
BART: Philip K What, Lisa?
LISA: (mortified) Shut up, Bart.
BART: (taunting) Smithers is a...
LISA: Bart!
BART: Sorry. So the future is going to get like...
SMITHERS: (sadly) It gets worse.
BART: Are there gonna be killer robots like "Terminator"...?
BART: No killer robots?
BARTS: No killer robots at all, huh, not one, no killer robots, you can't
have any killer robots, huh, huh, how come there aren't any killer robots?
SMITHERS: No. I'm sorry.
LISA: He said "no" Bart. Drop it.
BART: What about guys in cool cars with guns and fire like "Mad Max"...? I
liked the first one best.
SMITHERS: Not exactly.
BART: Atomic war?
BART: Cryogenic freezing chambers and like these prison colonies where
everybody is like killing each other and the women don't wear any clothes?
LISA: Bart! That is so derivative!
BART: Judge Dredd?
SMITHERS: Nothing like that...
BART: New York City turns into a big prison for human scum?
LISA: Bart! It already is, OK?
BART: What about, like, assassins, like this woman with these big legs like
on "Aeon Flux."
LISA: You're not supposed to watch that.
BART: It's a cool show.
LISA: Disgusting.
BART: Cool show.
LISA: Disgusting.
BART: Same thing. You're not going to tell Mom, huh?
LISA: (insulted) No!
BART: (to SMITHERS) So what about it?
BART: No what?
SMITHERS: I forgot. What were we...
LISA: You're confusing him. Can't we just...
BART: Gotta keep up, man. No women with long legs and almost no clothes with
cool guns who kill people?
LISA: Bart you are so...
BART: Politically incorrect? (snapping fingers) That's my style, little
LISA: Agggghh! That's not what I was going to say!
BART: What were you going to say, huh?
LISA: Self-absorbed.
BART: Like that's a bad thing?
LISA: This isn't about you.
BART: "About" me? Oooh--like this is a "story" or something.
LISA: You sound like Dad when you say that.
BART: No I don't.
LISA: Yeah you do and it's his story.
BART: It's my story.
LISA: It's his story.
BART: My story.
LISA: His.
BART: Mine.
LISA: No it isn't. Can’t you see? Here before you is the pathetic broken
figure of the man who sold out the future. That's the story.
BART: Well it's my future so it's my story. And there's not even any killer
SMITHERS: I am so sorry.


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