Oral Office Update

ORAL OFFICE UPDATE
or...
the Arkansas Hillbillies

Arkansas Hillbillies Theme -- to the tune of the Flat/Scrugs Beverly Hillbillies theme...

Let me tell you story 'bout a man named Bill
Arkansas Gov who liked cheap sex and pills
Then one day he was looking for some poon
And a phone call came from Carville and his goons
"You can get that nomination. For President, that is....
A Democrat. In Washington DC"

The kinfolk said, "Bill, get your ass in gear
There's toilets, running water, and a fridge that's full of beer"
They said "inside the beltway is the place you oughta be"
So they pulled in lotsa favors and moved to old DC
Washington, that is...
Movie stars...cocaine bars...

The Arkansas Hillbillies!

(banjo riff)

Go to INT, White House. CLINTON coming down the stairs dressed like a hillbilly. He hollers out...

CLINTON: Hey Chelsea -- you done laundered that money yet?

CHELSEA: (hollering back) Almost, Pa!

Hillbilly CLINTON enters an enormous livingroom space where freshly-washed, still-wet, dripping money is hanging from a clothesline. CHELSEA is pinning up more, taking bills from an old washtub...

CHELSEA: (wiping back her hair) I reckon that about does it, Pa.
CLINTON: I surely do appreciate it.
CHELSEA: Pa...how come folks got a problem with what we's doing? I heard on the television set some folks think laudering money's bad!
CLINTON: Wellllll....I don't know about that, Hon. Way I see it, I reckon we gotta keep it clean. Specially with this here investigation. Old Ken Starr can get mighty peculiar.
HILLARY: (coming down stairs) Ken Starr -- that varmint! Don't even name that goldurned name in my house! Somebody oughta investigate him!
CLINTON: Don't get all het up, Hillary. I reckon he's just doing his job.
HILLARY: And I reckon he ain't. Trying his level best to put you in the pokey when all's you're trying to do is make this a decent country for hardworking ordinary people! Going after you when there's real corporate crime that needs a good investigator -- and Michael Moore cain't do everything, now can he?
CLINTON: No, I reckon he cain't.
HILLARY: Somebody especially oughta investigate them newfangled HMOs what's done a foul deed to plenty of sick folk and all what need good doctoring and some of my medicine -- but that ain't none of Ken Starr's concern! (holding up fist) I oughta give him some of this medicine.
CLINTON: Now Hillary...
HILLARY: Now Hillary nothing! You can sit here jawing all you want. I'm fixing to go out and tend to some sick folks in sore need of my ministrations! Somebody's got to do something, and you ain't gonna stop me.
CLINTON: I wouldn't dream to try.

She storms out.

CHELSEA: She's a regular Florence Nightingale, ain't she Pa?
CLINTON: (shaking head in admiration) She is at that. She is at that.


Cut to EXT, starfield. We hear a low, throbbing, thrumming noise due to the assholic convention of sound in the vacuum of space. A metallic sphere emerges into view: it looks like the Death Star out of Star Wars. It comes closer. In one quadrant, an enormous crack'n'peel label announces "VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY." Underneath, in smaller letters: "your ad here."


Go to: earth. EXT, rooftop. MINISTER FARRAKHAN squinting through a battered Tasco telescope.

FARRAKHAN: Goddamnit, I knew it! It's the cracker flying saucer! How come nobody believed me 'bout the cracker flying saucer?


INT: cavernous imperial audience chamber inside the VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR. NEWT, STARR and SCAIFE enter. The enormous, shimmering holographic form of Nixon's face appears before them. They kneel before their undead Emperor...

SCAIFE: (in Darth Vader costume) We await your bidding, O master.


Back to Earth--

INT, hospital room. HILLARY leaning over a hospital bed where LOUISE (the one from the HARRY and LOUISE insurance commercials) lies suffering. Soap opera organ music through the whole bit...

HILLARY: Anythin' I cin do for you, hon?
LOUISE: How can you even help me...
HILLARY: Eh, fergit it -- what's done's done and I ain't studying the past. Them companies didn't do right by you but I reckon I can.
LOUISE: You're an angel. (coughing) How's... (coughing) How's...
HILLARY: How's Harry?
LOUISE: (nodding)
HILLARY: Harry's going to.... Harry's going to be just fine, darling.
LOUISE: You're a (coughing) bad liar...Hillary.
HILLARY: Goldurn it I ain't gonna stand for it! I'll make sure you get doctored up! And Harry too!
LOUISE: You can't. (coughing) No one can. The insurance companies. The HMOs. You tried...
HILLARY: Then, by thunder, I'll try again! I'll do it, Louise -- any which ways I can!

LOUISE looks up at her. Tearful. Grateful. Near death.

Firey, militant determination clamps down on HILLARY's face...

She squeezes LOUISE's hand.


Back to our crew on the VRWCS --

NIXON: ...example of him. He fucked with insurance. Nobody fucks with insurance. Nobody. That's the fucking third rail and he touched it and now he must pay. Clinton must be destroyed.
SCAIFE: We will destroy him, O Master.
NIXON: Dig for dirt. Throw some money at some hungry reporter on that American Spectator of yours. Keep throwing shit until some of it sticks...
SCAIFE: Yes, O Master.
NIXON: Today we shall see the democratic rebellion crushed for the...

Beeping noise.

NIXON: Our total domination of the...

More obnoxious beeping. NIXON stops talking.

We still hear the beeping noise. It's some gadget in NEWT's pocket.

Everybody turns to look at him, including the enormous and enormously displeased disembodied sepulchral head of NIXON. NEWT's desperately fishing in his pockets to find the beeping gadget...

NEWT: Uh...sorry.


Earth. EXT, city streets. Lone man running...

FARRAKHAN: (running through the streets) Watch the skies! Watch the skies!


INT, White House bedroom. CLINTON and HILLARY in bed, morphing out of hillbilly mode back to their, uh, normal selves. CLINTON has a shocked expression on his face...

CLINTON: What do you mean no more nookie?

HILLARY: Not until you deal with health care.

CLINTON: But Hon...we tried that, remember? Try it again, they'll carve me a new asshole. Another one. (he shifts uncomfortably)

HILLARY: That's your problem.

CLINTON: Can't you just...

Abruptly, she turns away from him, her back an S-curve, the bumps of her spine like the ridges of a frozen mountain range, impossible, impassible. Clinton reaches out to touch her.

CLINTON: How 'bout just a massage, then?

He strokes her back. Electric sparks shoot out. He jerks his hand away.

CLINTON: Owwwww.....


The next day, EXT Washington DC. CLINTON in the Presidential limo. His driver is driving randomly around the beltway while CLINTON sits in the back, pouting, enmired the depths of sexual deprivation. He looks to the left, he looks to the right. Wherever he looks, everything seems sexual...

The Jefferson Monument. Very tit-like.

The Capitol dome. Owww.....

Washington Monument. Like an enormous, thrusting...

All those bursting cherries along the Potomoc.

He returns to the White House. SOCKS looks at him. CLINTON looks back. Smiles. SOCKS runs...


Go to: INT, White House bathroom. CLINTON taking cold shower...

CLINTON: Owww.....owwwwwwww.....goddamnit, oww. Cold showers my ass! This is supposed to work but is sure as hell ain't. Oww....


INT: hotel room. The Whitewater investigation team buried under a mountain of paper...

STARR: I can't believe this! He itemized the paperclips! Every last one of them!
FLUNKY: We've got to find something....
STARR: Then do it, OK? Do I have to do everything, people?


Go to: CLINTON in conference with JANET RENO.

RENO: ...may say you can't afford the budget for any more killer robots, but I can't afford to lose any more of my people.

CLINTON: (staring at her dreamy-eyed) Janet?

RENO: Sir?

CLINTON: Anyone ever tell you you've got beautiful eyes?

She looks at him. Blinks. Punches the shit out of him.


Go to black-eyed CLINTON at breakfast table, pouring mounds of saltpeter on his breakfast cereal, crunchingly eating it...


Go to, INT, Whitewater investigation team in a deeper avalanche of paper...

FLUNKY: I'm afraid she did send thank-you cards.
STARR: Dingdong darn it! Throw somebody in jail or something. A woman or somebody who's dying. And harrass a journalist while you're at it...
FLUNKY: Yes sir.
STARR: (storming out) I'm having a very bad day, people!


INT, darkened parking garage. STARR storming along in a funk...

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Follow the pussy.

STARR: (stopping) Excuse me?

LINDA TRIPP steps out of the shadows.

LINDA: I said follow the pussy. It's all about pussy.

STARR: Get away from me!

LINDA: (grabbing him by the lapels) It's all about pussy, you little pussy -- don't you know that?

STARR: You're scaring me!

LINDA: You want the President? Clinton's a dick -- wanna catch a dick? Find the pussy. Follow the pussy.

She lets go of one of his lapels, reaches into the folds of her trenchcoat, pulls out a tape and hands it to STARR. He takes it reluctantly...

STARR: Now let me go!

LINDA grabs him by both lapels again, forces him back against a wall, puts her hideously lined, Margaret Dumontish face close to his. STARR recoils...

LINDA: Wanna have some fun?

STARR: No!

He breaks free and runs.

LINDA: Run away, little man! Run away! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! (turning directly towards the camera and clutching a wicked witch hand at us) AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

She whirls around and disappears in a puff of green smoke...


INT, office. NEWT and STARR in conference.

STARR: ...course I said, no way, honey, not this sailor. No way jose' I'm going to...

NEWT: (thoughtfully fiddling with LINDA's tape) Shut up.

STARR: Excuuuuse me?

NEWT: Maybe she's got something.

STARR: May-be.

NEWT: (twisted light glowing in his face) It's crazy, totally crazy. (pounding desk with fist) It's so crazy it just might work!


Go to INT, darkened corridor, White House -- just outside the President's private study.
MONICA walks out and softly shuts the door, a cat-that-ate the-canary expression on her face. But is it Monica? Is it really?

Mission Impossible theme...

She reaches a hand to her face. Pulls off a latex mask. And we see that it's really...

NEWT GINGRICH!

...his face a mask of lizardlike disgust. He runs to the nearest bathroom, collapses at the sink. NEWT spits out Presidential semen. Enormous quantities....

NEWT: Arrrghhh! Geh....

Desperately, frantically, he washes mouth out with every available bathroom cleanser he can find. KEN STARR enters the room.

NEWT: (brushing teeth with toilet brush) The things I do for the grand old party...

STARR: Newtie...

NEWT: What?

STARR: I've got some, well, bad news, OK?

NEWT turns, murderously. Says nothing.

STARR: Our little surveillance system?

NEWT: What about it?

STARR: Belly up.

NEWT: Belly up?

STARR: It's just...you know. (fluttering hands) Static! Static! Static! Snow! Snow! Snow!

NEWT: Nothing?

STARR: Nothing.

NEWT spits.

STARR: Let's just say I hope we're still under warranty...

Silence.

STARR: So are we up for a retake?

NEWT glares at him with pure hatred. Throws STARR the Monica-mask -- right into his gut like a medicine ball.

NEWT: You do it.


Go to INT, corridor, White House. Again, what looks like MONICA emerges from the Oval Office. Again, she reaches a hand to her face. Pulls off a latex mask. Mission Imposible theme. And we see that it's really...

KEN STARR!

STARR: (licking lips) Actually that wasn't so bad.


Go to basement. STARR hunched over TV monitor. He pops in a VHS tape titled "PRESIDENTIAL NAUGHTY BITS." NEWT, meanwhile, is lying on an army cot nursing an extremely painful coldsore. STARR hits play. Stares. Rolls eyes.

STARR: Problems!

NEWT: Arrgghhh.

NEWT looks. Somehow, unbelievably, it's a tape of Sesame Street...

KERMIT: Hi-ho! Kermit-the-frog here! And I'm still here...

NEWT: Arrrrggghhhhhhh!

Suddenly, the TV shuts off. NIXON's face appears, a ten foot shimmering hologram.

STARR: Oh. Lord Nixon. I was just...

NIXON: You have failed me for the last time.

STARR: (reacting to some invisible psychic force) Ow.

NIXON: Now listen to me, Newt.

STARR: (folding legs knock-kneed together) Owwww...you're hurting me!

NIXON: I have obtained for you a complete set of vintage dirty tricks from Operation Mongoose. Spanish Fly bon-bons. Cuban cigars dipped in pheremones. An amazing assortment of bizare pornography, not to mention cheeseburgers...

STARR thuds to the floor.

NIXON: Your feeble efforts need not go to waste. At least you've made him want her.

STARR: My little Mary hurts!

NIXON: Now it is simply a matter of bringing them together. My dirty tricks should be enough...

NEWT: (bowing) Yes, my Lord.

NIXON: But -- just in case -- we'll shut down the government and bring them to a crisis point. We'll make sure they find each other -- part of the team, understaffed, making sacrifices, shoulder to shoulder, both in it together against the world. And both extremely horny.

NEWT: Yes, my Lord.

NEWT bows, deeply reverent, eyes closed -- then open -- as he notices he's sitting with his knees in the puddle of urine leaking out from KEN STARR...


Go to, INT, CLINTON in staff meeting with Presidential interns, MONICA included, all of whom (though this may be a sex-starved distortion of Presidential perception) seem to be female and beautiful, none of whom seem to be wearing bras. It's day one of the governmental shut-down and he's just given them a peptalk.

CLINTON: ...assume additional duties. You up for it?

ALL OF THEM: (breathlessly) Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON blinks, pops a Spanish Fly bon-bon in his mouth, chews slowly, blinks again. All the women seem to be naked. He chews thoughtfully...

MONICA: Could I have one of those, Mister President? I think I want to put something in my mouth right now...

He smiles, hands her one. MONICA takes it. Slowly puts it in her mouth. Slowly, slowly chews. The other women shoot her dirty looks. One puffs up her mouth full of air, miming "No wonder she's fat." But CLINTON sees none of that. He's just chewing, chewing, chewing. MONICA does the same. They're in oral synch together...

CLINTON looks at MONICA; MONICA looks at him. Thick sexual tension. Rapid Tom Jonesish crosscutting of kissylip moues, winks, tonguelicks...

CLINTON: (getting up from the table, stretching) Well, ladies. I'd like to thank y'all for com-com-com...for being here, but I guess that's it, y'all can go. Me? (loudly) Guess I'll take me a stroll back to windowless hallway adjacent to my study in the south south-west quadrant of the White House in approximately 7 minutes.


And so it begins...


THEN:

MARILYN MONROE singing seductively....

MARILYN: Happy birthday, Mr. President. Happy birthday to you.

NOW:

MONICA: Can I suck your dick?

CLINTON leans back his head. Groaning....

CLINTON: Must...preserve...precious...bodily...fluids....


As in Porky's, NEWT and STARR have drilled a peephole into the White House and are peering in...

STARR: Ohmygod that's just awful.
NEWT: Let me see.
STARR: Ohmygod.


And so it goes on...


INT, Oval Office

ARAFAT walks into Oval Office. Sees CLINTON with fly open, dick hanging out.

ARAFAT: (Cornholio accent) Oh. A thousand apologies, affendi. Is this the customary greeting in your country?

He unzips his own fly -- but CLINTON shoves him out.

ARAFAT: Owww! The zeeeeeper!

Slams door.

CLINTON: (to Monica) Alone at last.

ARAFAT: (through the walls) Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: We have so much in common. I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: Bactine! Someone bring me the bactine!

MONICA: And I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: No, not rubbing alcohol you fool!

CLINTON: I've got plastic hair.

MONICA: And so do I!

They both smile wickedly. Clinch. Tongue-kiss. She slides down...

ARAFAT: Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: Wanna see my Southern strategy? (he slides down)

MONICA: No, no, no...it's my time.

CLINTON: (sliding back up) My you were raised right. But I see a way out of this, kiddo.

He reaches into a humidor stuffed with illegal, imported Cuban cigars -- thinks better of it -- reaches into another cheapo cigarbox and pulls out a White Owl...

The camera discretely pans to the window where ARAFAT is running around screaming in the Rose Garden...



Go to EXT, White House corridor. STARR and NEWT crouched down in the shadows. STARR peering in through the peephole...

STARR: Ohmygod that's just awful.
NEWT: Let me see.
STARR: Ohmygod, ohmygod.


And on....


INT, Oval Office. CLINTON and MONICA sit naked before a pentagram. Candles burn.

CLINTON: ...faust, aleph, null -- and let "do what thou wilt be the whole of the law!"

The candles flare. CLINTON turns, smiling charmingly to MONICA.

CLINTON: Anyways that's how we summon Satan back where I come from...

MONICA: Geez, Mr. President. You really know so much.

CLINTON: (looking at watch) Oh my word...the prayer breakfast. Gotta go, kiddo.

He runs out -- then runs back in for his pants and runs out again.


EXT, White House corridor. STARR peering through the peephole. NEWT still trying to get a chance...

STARR: Ohmygod that's just awful.
NEWT: Let me see.
STARR: Ohmygod, ohmygod look what they're doing.
NEWT: GImme.
STARR: Ohmygod this is...you wouldn't believe.
NEWT: (fumbling, trying to push STARR away) My turn!
STARR: If you only...oh no...oh nooo...this is priceless....this is really...

He stops. Something's occured to him....

STARR: I wonder how much people would pay to see this?

Someone taps him on the shoulder. BILL GATES.

GATES: How's about we find out? Call me Mr. Computers or Mr. MSNBC but whatever you do...call me. (smiling like a cyborg Cheshire cat) Because I really need content and I really think we can do this...together.

Cardsharplike, he hands them a business card.

STARR reaches for it. NEWT rips it out of his hand.

GATES: I love you people.

He smiles. NEWT smiles. STARR turns back to the peephole.

STARR: Ohmygod....

And so it goes on. The growing scandal. Throbbing just below the surface ready to burst at any moment...

INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there like beefeaters. Monolithic. Impassive.

MONICA walks by holding a pizza. Goes into President's office...

Next day...

MONICA walks by holding a sack of food from McDonalds.

Next day...

MONICA walks by with takeout from Long John Silver's.

GUARD #1: Something's up.

GUARD #2: You got that right.

Go to: INT, Oval Office...

MONICA and CLINTON sitting together, munching down on Taco Supremes...salsa packets and sacks from Taco Bell scattered recklessly across the room.

CLINTON: Goddamn this is better than sex.

MONICA: (mouth full) Uh-hmmm.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm the President and I can eat anything I want! To hell with cholesterol! Never say diet!

MONICA: (pointing) Mmmm-mmm.

CLINTON: Oh. Here you go, kiddo.

He hands her a packet of salsa.

MONICA: Mm-ooo.

CLINTON: You're welcome.

(They continue munching...in hog heaven)

And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows.

MONICA: You bastard!

CLINTON: I'm sorry, kiddo...

MONICA: My name's not kiddo!

CLINTON: Just the thought of honest Abe and little George Washington and the cherry tree. I just cain't...

MONICA: There's somebody else!

CLINTON: Hillary?

MONICA: I mean somebody else else.

CLINTON: There's nobody else else. (noticing the Secret Service agents) Oh. Hello, boys. Heh-heh.

AGENTS: Hello, Mister President.

CLINTON: Just a little old Christmas pageant we're rehearsing. Page 52.

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON: Ain't that right, kiddo. I mean, Miss...

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping.

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! That was totally convincing.

He goes back inside the office.

Go to: NEWT and STARR in some conspiratorial office cube.


NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: I feel like a Jr. G-Man.

NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: Herbert Hoover was one of my role models, you know.

NEWT: Goddamnit...are we ready yes or no?

STARR: We're ready yes and no.

NEWT: Argghhhhh....

STARR: See...ever since you broke the surveillance camera, well, we don't have the smoking gun, so to speak...

NEWT: But we've got the tape.

STARR: The tape. Oh the tape.

NEWT: Oh yeah.

STARR: Linda's tape.

NEWT: That's the one.

STARR: I just forgot all about that...

NEWT pops the tape in a tape recorder. Hits play.

COOKIE MONSTER: C is for cookie...that's good enough for me! C is for cookie...that's good enough for me!

NEWT: Arrgghhhh!

COOKIE MONSTER: Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!

STARR: Well I guess we'll just have to get another one, won't we?

NEWT smashes the tape recorder.

I am your father search your feelings you know it to be true.

And so it goes on. The growing scandal. Throbbing just below the surface ready to burst at any moment...

INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there like beefeaters. Monolithic. Impassive.

MONICA walks by holding a pizza. Goes into President's office...

Next day...

MONICA walks by holding a sack of food from McDonalds.

Next day...

MONICA walks by with takeout from Long John Silver's.

GUARD #1: Something's up.

GUARD #2: You got that right.

Go to: INT, Oval Office...

MONICA and CLINTON sitting together, munching down on Taco Supremes...salsa packets and sacks from Taco Bell scattered recklessly across the room.

CLINTON: Goddamn this is better than sex.

MONICA: (mouth full) Uh-hmmm.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm the President and I can eat anything I want! To hell with cholesterol! Never say diet!

MONICA: (pointing) Mmmm-mmm.

CLINTON: Oh. Here you go, kiddo.

He hands her a packet of salsa.

MONICA: Mm-ooo.

CLINTON: You're welcome.


And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows.

MONICA: You bastard!

CLINTON: I'm sorry, kiddo...

MONICA: My name's not kiddo!

CLINTON: Just the thought of honest Abe and little George Washington and the cherry tree. I just cain't...

MONICA: There's somebody else!

CLINTON: Hillary?

MONICA: I mean somebody else else.

CLINTON: There's nobody else else. (noticing the Secret Service agents) Oh. Hello, boys. Heh-heh.

AGENTS: Hello, Mister President.

CLINTON: Just a little old Christmas pageant we're rehearsing. Page 52.

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON: Ain't that right, kiddo. I mean, Miss...

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping.

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! That was totally convincing.

He goes back inside the office.

Go to: NEWT and STARR in some conspiratorial office cube.


NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: I feel like a Jr. G-Man.

NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: Herbert Hoover was one of my role models, you know.

NEWT: Goddamnit...are we ready yes or no?

STARR: We're ready yes and no.

NEWT: Argghhhhh....

STARR: See...ever since you broke the surveillance camera, well, we don't have the smoking gun, so to speak...

NEWT: But we've got the tape.

STARR: The tape. Oh the tape.

NEWT: Oh yeah.

STARR: Linda's tape.

NEWT: That's the one.

STARR: I just forgot all about that...

NEWT pops the tape in a tape recorder. Hits play.

COOKIE MONSTER: C is for cookie...that's good enough for me! C is for cookie...that's good enough for me!

NEWT: Arrgghhhh!

COOKIE MONSTER: Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!

STARR: Well I guess we'll just have to get another one, won't we?

NEWT smashes the tape recorder.

LINDA TRIPP appears in a puff of smoke...

LINDA: That can be arranged, my pretties. That can be arranged. Ahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHA!

STARR: Make her stop!

NEWT: God, what a woman.


INT, Oval Office. CLINTON kneeling in prayer.

CLINTON: Carter committed adultery in his heart -- and thinking's the same as doing it? The Clinton corrollary: as far as I'm concerned, I didn't do it, besides which I repent, so I don't think I'm gonna do it anymore, and that's the same as not doing it. And I defy you to list me one passage in Your Holy Word dealing with blow-jobs as adultery or defining sex qua sex. Just one...hmmm? I didn't think so. Amen.


INT, MONICA and LINDA at breakfast table. LINDA stirring tea. The spoon dissolves. MONICA doesn't notice.

LINDA: Tea?

MONICA: Oh. Like thanks.

LINDA slides the tea to MONICA who lifts it up, sips it.

MONICA: Mmmm...

LINDA: It's tannis root.

MONICA: Is that, like, organic?

LINDA: Eee-heee-heee...something like that.

MONICA: (sipping) You're really something special, Linda.

LINDA: Eh-heh-heee. Thanks, dearie.

MONICA: Thank God I gotta friend in this goddamn town, y'know?

LINDA: (wincing at the word "God") Yessss. Apple?

She hands MONICA an apple. MONICA takes it. Starts to bite.

LINDA: No, no, no...the OTHER side, yesss. It's so much...sweeter...eh-heh-heh...

MONICA, obediantly, rotates the apple, bites from the other side.

LINDA: That's it. Eat, my dear. Eat.....

MONICA: (chatty, chum to chum, talking with a mouth full of apple) Have you ever like cared about somebody but they don't like care about you? Or maybe, like, they care, but they don't, like, show it? Or maybe they're just, like, using you?

LINDA: Mmmhmmmm. (leaning forward, conspiratorial) Anyone I know?

MONICA: As if! Like if you knew you'd just like...you'd be all like, no way!

LINDA: Try me.

MONICA: Yeah. I mean no. I mean, like, I wanna tell you, but, like, I said I wouldn't and a promise is a promise.

LINDA: But a friend is a friend. It's not the same as telling someone else if you tell it to me, my pretty.

MONICA: OK. So...

We hear a loud, audible CLICK.

MONICA: What was that?

LINDA: Nothing, nothing. Just my...guess I'm just an old lady and I'm having a little problem with my pipes, dearie. You will excuse me?

MONICA: Anyth...

LINDA: I'll be all right.

INT, bathroom. LINDA removes microcassette recorder from her snatch. Opens it, reverses tape.

LINDA: Goddamnit, I KNEW I should've gotten the auto-reverse. That's what I get for being a penny pincher...

She slides it back in. Returns....

LINDA: Much better. You were saying?

MONICA: Try the P...

LINDA: Just a minute.

LINDA spreads her legs.

LINDA: Ah. That's better....


EXT, MONICA's apartment. LINDA heading out the door. MONICA saying goodbye. She seems grateful...

LINDA: Now, remember what I told you! He needs to make a commitment.

MONICA: God you're such a friend.

LINDA: Just trying to help, dearie.


CLINTON: Hey...you doing anything tonight? Aw...you know I care about you...I'm thinking about you all the time, why do you think I'm calling? So I'm just thinking if you're not doing anything, you want to come over, kiddo? Maybe we could do something. Maybe we could try something new. I'm thinking, like, y'know...you ever suborned purjury before?

Oral Office 2

ORAL OFFICE #2
or...
Meatloaf Surprise

And so it goes on. The growing scandal. Throbbing just below the surface ready to burst at any moment...

INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there like beefeaters. Monolithic. Impassive.

MONICA walks by holding a Domino's pizza. Goes into President's office...

Next day...

MONICA walks by holding a sack of food from McDonalds.

Next day...

MONICA walks by with takeout from Long John Silver's.

GUARD #1: Something's up.

GUARD #2: You got that right.


Go to: INT, Oval Office...

MONICA and CLINTON sitting together, munching down on Taco Supremes...salsa packets and sacks from Taco Bell scattered recklessly across the room.

CLINTON: (stupid-happy chewing) Goddamn this is better than sex.

MONICA: (mouth full) Uh-hmmm.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm the President and I can eat anything I want! To hell with cholesterol! Never say diet!

MONICA: (pointing) Mmmm-mmm.

CLINTON: Oh. Here you go, kiddo.

He hands her a packet of salsa.

MONICA: Mm-ooo.

CLINTON: You're welcome.

(They continue munching...in hog heaven)


And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows. The stone-faced AGENTS watch.

MONICA: You bastard!

CLINTON: I'm sorry, kiddo...

MONICA: My name's not kiddo!

CLINTON: Just the thought of honest Abe and little George Washington and the cherry tree. I just cain't...

MONICA: There's somebody else!

CLINTON: Hillary?

MONICA: I mean somebody else else.

CLINTON: There's nobody else else. (noticing the Secret Service agents) Oh. Hello, boys. Heh-heh.

AGENTS: Hello, Mister President.

CLINTON: Just a little old Christmas pageant we're rehearsing. Page 52. A little method acting, heh-heh...

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON: Ain't that right, kiddo? I mean, Miss...

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping. Runs away...

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! (he does the gesture) That was totally convincing, uh...really like the way you use your instrument.

CLINTON looks at the AGENTS. They're not buying it. He drops it. Goes back inside the office. They just stand there...


Go to: NEWT and STARR in some conspiratorial office cube.

NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: (flush with excitement) I feel like a Jr. G-Man.

NEWT: I said, are we ready?

STARR: Herbert Hoover was one of my role models, you know.

NEWT: Goddamnit...are we ready yes or no?

STARR: We're ready yes and no.

NEWT: Argghhhhh....

STARR: See...ever since you broke the surveillance camera, well, we don't have the smoking gun, so to speak...

NEWT: But we've got the tape.

STARR: The tape. Oh the tape...

NEWT: Oh yeah.

STARR: Linda's tape.

NEWT: That's the one.

STARR: I just forgot all about that...

STARR smiles. Hands NEWT Linda's tape -- this one labelled "Deep Intern." NEWT pops the tape in a tape recorder. Hits play.

COOKIE MONSTER: C is for cookie...that's good enough for me! C is for cookie...that's good enough for me!

NEWT: Arrgghhhh!

COOKIE MONSTER: Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!

NEWT smashes the tape recorder. Collapses in despair...

STARR: Don't give up now!

NEWT moans.

STARR: We'll just have to get another one, won't we?

NEWT's moans increase -- STARR's not cheering him up.

LINDA TRIPP appears in a puff of smoke...

LINDA: That can be arranged, my pretties. That can be arranged. Ahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHA!

STARR: Make her stop!

NEWT: God, what a woman.


CUT to: LINDA flying through sky on broom...


INT, Oval Office. CLINTON kneeling in prayer.

CLINTON: Carter committed adultery in his heart -- and thinking's the same as doing it? The Clinton corrollary: as far as I'm concerned, I didn't do it, besides which I repent, so I don't think I'm gonna do it anymore, and that's the same as not doing it. And I defy you to list me one passage in Your Holy Word dealing with blow-jobs as adultery or defining sex qua sex. Just one...hmmm? I didn't think so. Amen.


INT, MONICA and LINDA at breakfast table. LINDA stirring tea. The spoon dissolves. MONICA doesn't notice.

LINDA: Tea?

MONICA: Oh. Like, thanks.

LINDA slides the tea to MONICA who lifts it up, sips it.

MONICA: Mmmm...

LINDA: It's tannis root.

MONICA: Is that, like, organic?

LINDA: Eee-heee-heee...something like that.

MONICA: (sipping) You're really something special, Linda.

LINDA: Eh-heh-heee. Thanks, dearie.

MONICA: Thank God I gotta friend in this goddamn town, y'know?

LINDA: (wincing at the word "God") Yessss. Apple?

She hands MONICA an apple. MONICA takes it. Starts to bite.

LINDA: No, no, no...the OTHER side, yesss. It's so much...sweeter...eh-heh-heh...

MONICA, obediantly, rotates the apple, bites from the other side.

LINDA: That's it. Eat, my dear. Eat.....

MONICA: (chatty, chum to chum, talking with a mouth full of apple) Have you ever like cared about somebody but they don't like care about you? Or maybe, like, they care, but they don't, like, show it? Or maybe they're just, like, using you?

LINDA: Mmmhmmmm. (leaning forward, conspiratorial) Anyone I know?

MONICA: As if! Like if you knew you'd just like...you'd be all like, no way!

LINDA: Try me.

MONICA: Yeah. I mean no. I mean, like, I wanna tell you, but, like, I said I wouldn't and a promise is a promise.

LINDA: But a friend is a friend. It's not the same as telling someone else if you tell it to me, my pretty.

MONICA: OK. So...

We hear a loud, audible CLICK.

MONICA: What was that?

LINDA: Nothing, nothing. Just my...guess I'm just an old lady and I'm having a little problem with my pipes, dearie. You will excuse me?

MONICA: Anyth...

LINDA: I'll be all right, dear...


INT, bathroom. LINDA waddle-shuffles in, removes microcassette recorder from her snatch. Opens it, reverses tape.

LINDA: Goddamnit, I KNEW I should've gotten the auto-reverse. That's what I get for being a penny pincher...

She slides it back in. Starts to leave -- then flushes toilet.


Returns....

LINDA: Much better. You were saying?

MONICA: Try the P...

LINDA: Just a minute.

LINDA spreads her legs.

LINDA: Ah. That's better. And do speak up. (rubbing thighs) My old ears just aren't what they used to be. I'm just an old, old lady.

MONICA: Oh stop!

They smile, exchanging glances of affection.

LINDA: Now you were saying?

MONICA resumes talking...


EXT, MONICA's apartment. LINDA heading out the door. MONICA saying goodbye. She seems grateful...

LINDA: Now, remember what I told you! He needs to make a commitment.

MONICA: God you're such a friend.

LINDA: Just trying to help, dearie.

MONICA waves. LINDA waves back. Walks away. Eyes narrowing darkly...

LINDA: Just trying to....help.


INT, cave, ante-room to hell or rented self-storage space. LINDA, shrouded in darkness and the inward darkness of her inmost hate. Drawing a deadstick in dead dust. Laughing. Drawing the sign of the pentagram...


Which dissolves into the Pentagon. Camera flies down into MONICA's office. MONICA sits. Bored in the loveless warcube. Just staring at the phone. It rings. Sad eyes joyful again. She reaches...


The duststick stabs into the heart of the pentagram. Dark runes. Dark, gibbering incantations. Dissolve to...


INT: White House basement. CLINTON on the redhot phone chatting to MONICA.

CLINTON: Well sure I missed you. Course. No it's not just physical -- I mean it. I really missed you, kiddo. You're not like...

Situation maps behind him, blinking with graphics of missiles, global hotspots, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. CLINTON ignores it. Shmoozing on the phone to MONICA. The eternal adolescent...

CLINTON: Hey...here's a thought, kinda wild and crazy thought. You doing anything tonight? Aw...you know I care about you...I'm thinking about you all the time, why do you think I'm calling? So I'm just thinking if you're not doing anything, you want to come over, kiddo? Maybe we could do something. Maybe we could try something new. I'm thinking, like, y'know...you ever suborned purjury before?


INT, Oval Office. CLINTON, in his boxers, smiles, greets MONICA as she enters. He holds up two plastic tubs...

CLINTON: Look. I brought some cream cheese.
MONICA: God you're so oral!
CLINTON: It's lite cream cheese...
MONICA: Were you like weaned too soon or something?
CLINTON: Listen, kiddo...
MONICA: Don't call me kiddo.
CLINTON: OK, uh...uh...
MONICA: You don't even name -- do you huh? HUH?

Freeze frame on CLINTON's noggin. Go to cutaway of his brain. Anacin-animated graphic, wheels turning inside his head. We hear a voiceover. CLINTON's voice.

CLINTON VOICEOVER: Inski, pinksi, Jerzy Kosinksi...no, no, no Prez on water Being There, Kaczynski, no that's the Unabomber, inski, inski, law, Lawinksi first name mnemonic, mnemonic fat chick in Santa Monica wearing monocle Monocle Lawinski no, no...yes...

Time unfreezes...

CLINTON: Monica. And it's a beautiful beautiful name...
MONICA: Do you love me?

Freeze frame. Inside CLINTON's head. Lawyer wheels turning.

CLINTON VOICEOVER: Well it depends on your definition of love. The Greeks had -- scratch that. Emotional appeal.

CLINTON: Baby...

MONICA: Don't baby me, you shmuck. If you really loved me there'd be penetration.

CLINTON: You know I don't....

MONICA: Goddamnit...I NEED CLOSURE!

CLINTON: C'mere, kiddo.

Her resistance melts. Like two magnetic doggies, they animal-magnetize together, clinch, start to kiss. MONICA slides, down, down, down, out of sight, working. CLINTON reacts -- reaches for shelf -- pulls sax, wails a tune -- Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." CLINTON puts down the sax -- the score still playing. He sings, Meatloaf music accompanying him on the soundtrack...

CLINTON: Golden glow like McDonald's in the middle of the night
Golden arches glowing, coming just in sight...
Though it's cold and lonely in the White House Night...
I can feel paradise when you suck me tight!

Ain't no doubt about it
I like it when you fress!
Cause if I do not penetrate
It's not really sex...

RADIO BROADCAST: OK, here we go, Ken Starr's really got the pressure going in the 16th month of his investigation. Two in jail, 27 indictments including possible obstruction of justice and subornation of perjury but it looks like, once again, William Jefferson Clinton is coming through it without a....

She pushes him away.

MONICA: Stop right there!
I gotta know right now!
Before we go any further!
Do you love me?
Could you do it above me?
Will you win me --
Like you'd maybe come in me?
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?
Will you pillory Hillary...will you make me your wife?

CLINTON: Let me sleep on it...
Baby, baby let me sleep on it...

MONICA: I gotta know right now...

CLINTON: Let me sleep on it...

MONICA: Stop waffling, asshole!

CLINTON: Let me...


Yeah, well, we can see where this scene is going. MONICA exits the White House, satisfied, satisfied. Drives away in some insectoid 90210 convertible, wind whipping her hair just like in the commercials....


EXT, Washington DC. CLINTON walking smugly on the surface of the reflecting pool...

INT, MONICA's apartment. She enters, holding blue dress. Walks in to bedroom -- puts dress in extremely large walk-in closet. Lots of other dresses hanging there. Fitted with tags reading: Yassir Arafat, Zubin Mehta, Boris Yeltsin, Speedy Alka Seltzer, Larry Harmon, Moahmar Khaddafi, Bigfoot, Deng Whatsisface Ping, etc....

MONICA: Mental note. Make time for self to alphabetize closet.

She takes a cel-phone off a dresser, punches number. Walks out of bedroom, talking what may or may not be Russian...


EXT, Washington DC. CLINTON walking on water -- then sinks.


LINDA clutches enormous greenish globe, swirling clouds within revealling all.

LINDA: Ah-hahaaha...

She reaches out her clawlike hand, expectantly. A FLYING MONKEY brings her the phone. She speed dials....


INT, MONICA's apartment. Flour-dusted MONICA whipping up a bundt cake. Looking oddly domestic. Phone cradelled ear to shoulder...

LINDA: What's the dish, dearie?
MONICA: Just between you me and the four walls?
LINDA: My mouth to God's ears.
MONICA: He did the deed.
LINDA: No!
MONICA: Yeah.
LINDA: No...yeah?
MONICA: Yeah.
LINDA: The full nasty?
MONICA: No, but I think like this time he committed himself. Like when the guy's like holding back and you're all like what are you afraid of and...
LINDA: I want details!
MONICA: Swear-to-god you tell nobody?
LINDA: I swear.
MONICA: Swear?
LINDA: Monica! How can you hurt me like that! Who's your friend in this town?
MONICA: Sor-ry.
LINDA: So the dirt.
MONICA: The secret dies with you?
LINDA: Monica!
MONICA: So, OK. Anyway he's like....

Dish, dish, dish, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt. Go to LINDA's witchy eyrie, MONICA's voice nattering on in moist particularity, camera pulling back to reveal the tangled wires, banks of blinking lights and rows of slowly, slowly turning, reel-to-reel audiotape of LINDA's vast taping system. The system is manned -- or maybe it's better to say monkeyed -- by the FLYING MONKEYS....


INT -- White House bedroom.

CLINTON adjusting tie, looking at self in mirror.

CLINTON: Being in itself, being for others, en-soi, en neant. I'm no goddamn hick...

A final twist. He winks at himself. SELF winks back, surrealistically off-synch. He strides out of the bathroom, dressed for success. Rooster-like, smug, he walks out of the bathroom, sees HILLARY sitting on the edge of the well-made White House bed.

CLINTON: My last day of questioning Hillary -- and the Kenster's got nothing on me --
HILLARY: Nothing?
CLINTON: Rien. Vince Foster suicide, banking conspiracies, one horseshit thing after another. Just one big multimillion dollar goosegg when the rubber meets the road. Enough to make you wanna give 'em some goddamn thing to investigate, know what I'm saying?

She looks at him darkly. CLINTON smiles back at her -- nervously, boyishly, bullshittishly -- then strides out.


EXT, Washington Expressway. Presidential limo stopped by cop.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm not a Clinton impersonator.
DRIVER: Sir. I've attempted to...
CLINTON: Anyways when you say stopped, you know, what's stopped. According to Zeno's paradox an arrow moves yet it's an infinite series of points in which the arrow doesn't move, yet somehow....
COP: (ripping up ticket) It's him...


INT, STARR CHAMBER, a cliche courtroom, fans turning, galleries of spectators fanning themselves. STARR, playing the underestimate-me fool, bobbles up to CLINTON. MisterRogers seasoned lightly with Anthony Perkins. Tim Conway with a dash of Linda Blair....

STARR: Please...please...gosh, wow you look Presidential in person, anyways...(making like he's in awe -- hands fluttering in aborted, insecure, apologetic gestures) ...what was I saying...anyways, p-please accept my deep apologies for having wasted so much of your time....Mr. President. This is but a mere, mmmm...formality....
CLINTON: (expansively) You got your job to do. I got mine.
STARR: (reading from sheet of paper -- he squints, puts on goofball reading glasses) So, uh, the s-score is...the results. OK. What it says here...uh...this 40 million dollar, uh, sheet of p-paper, anyways, it says you're clear on Whitewater, Simon pure when it comes to Travelgate, Filegate's neither here nor there, old Vince pulled a Brody, the rest of it's he said, she said and...mmm...(adjusting ridiculous reading specs) evidently, uh, looks like evidently you evidently did not kill the dinosaurs or Jesus Christ. I think we're just about ready to wrap this up. One last question?
CLINTON: Hit me.
STARR: Have you ever cheated on your wife? (Gotcha! Gotcha! Gotcha! Now Boyscout pissant prissy...) Remember Mr. President...you are under oath.

No reaction in CLINTON's face. He eyes STARR. STARR eyes him back.

Above, the turning fans turn slower...slower...

Distorted sound. Dramatic thud.

Cut to: star-spattered black of deep space, suns, planets, asteroids wheeling. Clockwork racheting on the soundtrack...

And then the machinery of the heavens impercetibly slows and stops, the grinding, chittering clockwork noise of the heavenly spheres turning to terrible silence as CLINTON approaches the cusp of this decision point -- that mystic whatsis poised in the realm of the transcendental unity of apperception, in time but outside of time, clown's mouth at the end of the funhouse ride where you gotta get off -- CLINTON's astral body roaring down the downside of the cosmic rollercoaster, approaching, I say, the delta-T of choice, that terrible mystery by which, moment by moment, we create and destroy infinite universes with every act, OK, whatever. Drumroll. The envelope please.

CLINTON: No I did not.

Flags across America burst spontaneously into flame; mystic runes coagulate in the alphabet soup of children everywhere spelling dark messages of doom; a skeleton begs for a crust of bread; Sting bursts spontaneously into flame; the car won't start;
flaming angels fall from the heavens; the veil in the Holy of Holies rips from top to bottom; she doesn't return your phone calls; the crack in the Liberty Bell widens; he does return your phone calls; the statue of Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial cries a single bloody tear; dogs howl; milk curdles; a rough rude beast slouches to Bethlehem to be born as a stupid monk, poking his head out of this world into the machinery of time space and dimension and going oh wow, gets his head crushed by the once-more turning heavenly spheres.


INT, VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR

NIXON rampant in the Satan throne. NEWT, HELMS and other Republican orcs thronging around him in a spasm of celebration, LINDA TRIPP dancing widdershins, clutching her hands and cackling. Yep, we're feeling good on the old VRWCS tonight -- that good old Walpurgisnacht groove so thick you could cut it. Only KEN STARR seems unmoved. Oddly centered....

NIXON: Ah, I feel a surge in the dark side. Yes. Yes...

Clenching fists together drawing bluewhite forks of energy into himself...

KEN STARR smiles.

Part Mona Lisa...

Part Quaker Oats man...

And even the dancing devils scream with fear.



LINDA: (roaring through the sky on her broom) Ah-hahahahaha!

KEN STARR

's neighborhood

wow. When I grow up I wanna be President.
I am your father search your feelings you know it to be true.


INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there. Groaning sex noises from within.

MONICA: Oh....ohhhh....SUPERSIZE ME!

They don't react.

It could be worse.
How could it be worse...




STARR:

I am your father search your feelings you know it to be true.






No problem

One last question

Shoot.




Case 

Oral Office 3

INT, the backroom. MONICA tied Betty Pageishly to a chair. KEN STARR appears holding a rubber truncheon.

MONICA: Hey!

STARR: You're probably expecting good cop bad cop. I'm both. You've really been used here. I sympathize. (wickedly cracking her a slantways blow with truncheon) And I'll fuck you up if you don't hand me that fucker's balls. (different personality) Hey stop that! (hitting her) I own you -- you fucking cunt. You don't mean shit to me. (nice guy) I said LEAVE HER ALONE! 

He again raises a hand to hit her, grabs his truncheon hand with his other hand, falls to the floor, wrestles with himself, screaming insanely in alternating voices. MONICA screams in pure terror. STARR gets upoff the floor. Walks up to her. Looking down at her with dead doll-in-a-trashcan eyes...

STARR: Can we be friends?

INT, White House breakfast table, CHELSEA, HILLARY and BILL CLINTON. Thick, fart-in-church silence. No servants. Just a just-folks family breakfast...

CLINTON: Well I reckon we still gotta eat. (offering plate) Sausage?

HILLARY: No!

CLINTON: How 'bout some butter then...

He lifts lid of margarine tub.

MARGARINE TUB: Blowjob.

CLINTON: I said butter.

MARGARINE TUB: Blowjob.

CLINTON: Butter?

MARGARINE TUB: Blowjob.

He throws the tub across the room.

MARGARINE TUB: Blowjobbbb.......

CLINTON: Try something else then. (lifting lid off plate) Macadamia nuts?

CHELSEA: (howling -- runs up from table) Agghhhhhhhhh!

HILLARY scowls. Punches his lights out.

CLINTON wakes up. Alone on the floor, birdies and stars twirling around his head. The margarine tub rolls to him. Stops.

MARGARINE TUB: Blowjob.

He hears tinkling sounds. Looks up at TV to see....

KEN STARR's NEIGHBORHOOD

KEN STARR walks out of house carrying garbage can filled with shredded constitution...

KEN STARR: Hello. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, it's time to chop off the morning wood...could you be mine? Would you be mine? Please come inside with me or I will kill you now.

The camera follows him in.

KEN STARR: You may have noticed I don't blink. That's because the voices in my head adjust my pupils so the light doesn't hurt me. (holding up President Clinton doll) Do you like to play with dolls? I do. Somebody once said you can't go down the toilet. (dropping Clinton doll in toilet) But they're wrong. (flushing toilet) It felt like God to do that. God sends bad people to hell. When we send bad people to hell we're helping God. If you've done anything bad God will find you. Or I will. (smiling) No one can hide from Mister Starr.

MISTER MAILMAN: Speedy delivery! Speedy delivery!

KEN STARR: Come in!

MISTER MAILMAN enters. Drops a sack of dripping rubbery sex toys and moist cigars at STARR's feet.

STARR: Bad people must be punished -- don't you think so boys and girls? Let's go to the neighborhood of Make-It-Bleed! Let's go right inside that tiny little hole...to the other side!

The Magic Trolley appears, goes through a hole in the wall, into the neighborhood of Make-It-Bleed where a wooden-headed CLINTON DOLL gestures from a fakey puppet White House. The other stupid puppets applaud him. KEN STARR, of course, is doing all the voices...

CLINTON: I am King Bubba the Large!

HENRIETTA PUSSYCAT: Meow, meow, we love King Bubba the Large!

CLINTON: I command you to suck my dick!


Back on the floor, CLINTON goes arrggghhh, pulls himself up to the feet, staggers to the TV, finds a clicker. He clicks -- from channel to channel, it's all about his dick. Madonna, on MTV, urges national repentence. MSNBC has a large USA map resembling a weather map complete with graphics of dicks and mouths. CNN has a running tickertape display at the bottom that reads like the last chapter of Ulysees. Unavision is a gabble of Spanish punctuated by "Monica"..."El Presidente Clinton"...."blowjob"..."masturbacion"...DOLE appears on C-SPAN, a Frankenstein's monster, piteously human in its inhumanity....

DOLE: Dole said...where outrage? Dole penis safe. Dole intern safe. Dole wife safe. But too late now. Dick out of barn. Where outrage? Presidential dignity. Dole say, think of the children...

Cut to two male adolescents pulling out centerfold from The Economist.

TEEN#1: Wow.
TEEN#2: When I grow up I wanna be President!

KEN STARR addressing...

He sleeps. Dreams of a vast, nationwide repentance.

Witches are stoned. Stoned people are stoned.