[MiSTied] Brother Norman's Latest...
Sylvan SilverNight
Sometimes, evil is so stupid, it makes itself too easy to defeat. How
else can you explain the "Divine Inspiration" that drives
self-described preachers as Norman Boyd? I warn those of you with
weak constitutions not to read this email. A lot of the original
material is pretty vile and Brother Normal really has *quite* an
active imagination! It's taken me a long time to get this done, but I
had to get it finished in time for the holidays. Enjoy it ... if you can!
-David J Rust, December 21st, 1999
Categories: PARA, PG, RANT, RR
Era: Castle
Sequels can be HELL!
(Opening Credits - Mike/Pearl/Bots)
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(Scene: SOL Interior. On an elaborate, golden, plastic throne set
behind the console, SANTA himself -looking a lot like Mary Jo Pehl in
a Santa Claus costume with a beard- has come to visit the SOL. Seated
on his lap is CROW; TOM is anxiously hovering nearby.)
SANTA: (in a faux, deep-male voice) Well little fellahs, it seems
I've been amiss these past few years! To think that two, good young
lads such as yourselves have been stranded up here without even a
single good present from your old Saint Nick! HO-HO-HO!
CROW: Oh, that's Ok, Santa... We knew you still loved us!
TOM: Yeah, it's not your fault that nobody sent you our forwarding addresses.
SANTA: (jovially) Well, we'll fix that right now! (to CROW) What do
*you* want for Christmas, my shiny, little friend?
CROW: (excited) Oh! Oh! I ... I want a brand-new pi-meson separator
chamber for my bedroom!
SANTA: (blinking) Uh...
CROW: I've really wanted one for a long time now and I really think
I'm old enough to take care of it on my own...
(SANTA looks a bit perplexed as MIKE walks on from stage-left and does
a double-take.)
MIKE: Holy Christmas! What's goin' on here?
TOM: Mike! Look! Santa's finally come to visit us!
CROW: (joining in) Yeah, he's gonna bring us toys and computers and a
pi-meson separator chamber...
TOM: It's like some wondrous holiday...!
SANTA: (jovially) HO-HO-HO!
MIKE: (nodding and looking skeptical) Uh-huh... Look, guys. That's
not Santa Claus. It's Pearl dressed up in a red suit and a beard!
SANTA: Ho?
(The bots do a double-take and then glance back at MIKE.)
CROW: What?
TOM: Oh, come *on*, Nelson!
MIKE: (sighing) Look, she's probably here to get your hopes up or
something before she dashes them as part of one of her fiendish plans,
isn't that right, Pearl?
SANTA: HO-HO-HO! I assure you, little Mikey, I *am* the real Santa Claus!
MIKE: "Mikey"? (he shakes his head) Yeah, right. Ok, "Chris
Cringle", let's take a look at that beard...
(With that, MIKE walks forward and struggles with SANTA -trying to
pull off his beard.)
SANTA: No! Wait, -ouch- that's my real beard!
MIKE: Yeah and your nine little reindeer are in orbit right outside...!
(The bots shout for MIKE to stop when, suddenly, SANTA's throne gets
tipped backwards, knocking him out the airlock.)
CROW: (shocked) Yaaaah! Mike! No!
TOM: (traumatized and watching as SANTA disappears out the airlock)
Oh, *great*, Nelson! Not satisfied with blowing up worlds, are you?
Now it's "Mike Nelson, the jerk who killed Christmas!"
MIKE: (shocked at the accident) But ... but guys, that wasn't
Santa... That was...
(Suddenly, the hexfield viewscreen opens up, revealing PEARL in her bathrobe.)
PEARL: Mike? Robots? What's all the hubbub? Sensors show that you
just cycled a big, red, fat object out your airlock. What th' heck is
goin' on up there?!
(MIKE looks from the bots to PEARL to the airlock and then back to
PEARL with a sick expression on his face.)
MIKE: Uh, n...nothing Pearl...
CROW: (starting to sob) Pearl! Mike ... Mike just jettisoned the
spirit of Christmas out the airlock ... an' ... an'...
TOM: Yeah! An' he cost us presents and egg nog an' ... an' ... everything!
PEARL: (looking skeptically at MIKE) Is this true, Nelson? Did you
really destroy the only shred of hope these little robots have at this
time of the year?
MIKE: Well, uh, the truth is ... uh...
PEARL: (interrupting with a smile) Good job, Nelson! Maybe you *do*
have a shred of evil in you after all! It won't save you from my
wrath, but -as positive reinforcement- I think I'll reward you with
some commercials before today's experiment. How does that sound?
(The commercial sign lights start flashing.)
MIKE: (walking up to tap the lights and sounding despondent) Uh,
thanks Pearl... Thanks a lot...
(In the background, the bots are sobbing.)
CROW: (sobbing) There is no God...
TOM: (in a disgruntled response to CROW) Well good thing too, or
Nelson -here- might just shoot him out the nearest airlock...!
MIKE: Would it help if I said I was sorry?
TOM: (shuddering) Just don't touch me...
(----------go to commercial----------)
(--------back from commercial--------)
(SOL. MIKE is looking desperately out the window and trying to
placate the bots.)
MIKE: Guys, it's just beyond my control. Even with the grapple arms,
I couldn't reach him. He's fallen into a lower orbit.
TOM: Well that's just great Nelson!
CROW: Yeah!
TOM: Y'know, knocking jolly ol' Saint Nick out the airlock might -just
*might*- have been forgivable, if it wasn't for your follow-up
bone-headed maneuver of trying to swivel the entire satellite in order
to guide the free-floating Claus into the airlock...
CROW: (continuing angrily) ...and -instead- managing to side-swipe
the entire team of eight tiny reindeer that were trying to rescue him!
(The mads lights start flashing.)
MIKE: (looking and sounding pained) Look guys, I've got to get this.
We'll talk about this later.
CROW: Or what, Mike? You'll push us out the airlock?
TOM: Beware, oh the mighty wrath of Nelson the Defenestrator!
(MIKE taps the lights and glances, confused look on his face, at TOM.)
MIKE: "Defenestrator"?
(Castle Forrester. PEARL is standing in her normal green,
mad-scientist's garb in front of what looks like the teleportation
tube from "The Fly". BOBO and OBSERVER stand behind her, BOBO dressed
up like a reindeer and OBSERVER in a green robe with pointy ears.)
PEARL: Well, hello Mike; misery-prone bots...
OBSERVER: (muttering) I feel like an idiot.
PEARL: (hissing to OBSERVER) Can it, Brain Guy... (talking in her
normal tone again to the camera) Well, fellahs, since the Chinese
word for "Crisis" is the same as "Opportunity", I've decided to turn
your little personal tragedy into my own bid for power and take
advantage of Santa's absence from the North Pole to... (she pauses
dramatically) ... SEIZE POWER! Ah-Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!
(The others join in laughing evilly as PEARL stops abruptly and makes
a cutting motion across her throat.)
PEARL: (continuing) Any-hoo... With the aide of this old
teleportation tube from the Deep 13 storage shed, it'll be easy for
Bobo and Brain Guy here to infiltrate the operation, seize the main
workshop and pave the way for my own triumphant ascendance into power
at the North Pole! (She breaks into laughter again.)
(SOL.)
MIKE: (looking peeved) Pearl! Why you ... you...!
TOM: (sobbing) Mike, you gotta stop her from stealing Christmas! You gotta!
CROW: Yeah! Can't you do something?
TOM: Like send an email to all the Whos down in Whoville?
MIKE: Guys, I ... I can't do anything from up here...
CROW: Except kill Santa Claus...
MIKE: (nodding) Except kill Santa... (he does a double-take) Hey!
(Castle. PEARL has out a big, candy-cane-like lever in the foreground
with her hand upon it.)
PEARL: Ok, you two. Get into the machine. It's time to
rock-and-roll! (She pauses, listening) Wait a moment... What's that...?
(In the distance, we hear a sound effect of a plummeting plane. PEARL
and the others look around, upon hearing it getting louder and louder,
confused looks on their faces.)
BOBO: Uh, lawgiver? I think we have an incoming...
PEARL: Stuff-it, Bonzo. It sounds like a...
(All of a sudden, SANTA comes crashing through the roof and smashes
down on top of the teleportation tube. There's a bright flash that
fades to reveal a devastated room with falling plaster and smoke.
PEARL, BOBO and OBSERVER are nowhere to be seen for several minutes.
Then, stumbling, SANTA gets up -wobbly- and staggers off-camera to the
left. We then hear the sound effect of the castle door opening and
slamming. Slowly, PEARL gets up, charred and bashed about. She looks
at her destroyed teleportation chamber in dull resignation.)
PEARL: (raising her fist and shaking it at the ceiling) Damn you,
Cringle! Damn you to Hell!
(In the background, BOBO and OBSERVER slowly get to their feet, shaken.)
PEARL: (snarling at the camera in an tone of barely-contained rage)
Ok, boys, speaking of "Hell", I'm gonna be subjecting you to some for
the next half-hour or so as revenge for inadvertently ruining my
chances at cornering the toy market! I *was* saving this little
gut-bomb of a sequel for December 25th, but I guess Christmas is gonna
be coming a little bit early this year... It's not Gamera, it's not
Godzilla, but it's twice as painful and should probably not be opened
before New Years. If at all. Enjoy!
(SOL. Movie sign lights are flashing.)
MIKE: See guys? Santa's fiery reentry worked out in the long run...
CROW: You got lucky, Nelson... Lucky!
TOM: We'll hash out the probabilities later Crow...
MIKE: Yeah, right now we've got USEnet siiiiign!!!
(The guys dash off-camera stage right.)
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(Theater Interior. The first USEnet rant loads on the screen.)
> Subject: Gates of Hell WIDE OPEN!!!
CROW: (in a housewife's tone) Satan! You shut those gates this
instant! Do you want to let all the heat out?!!
TOM: (in a cowed tone) No, mother...
> Date: 17 Aug 1999 02:13:16 GMT
> From: Reverend Norman Boyd <norma...@hotmail.com>
ALL: YAAAAAHHHHHH!
CROW: (shouting) Oh God, why have you forsaken us...?!!
TOM: (shuddering) Mike? Wh...what did we do to deserve this?
MIKE: (his face in his hands) I don't know Tom... I honestly don't know...
> Organization: Holy Oneness Temple
CROW: Located conveniently across the street from the Unholy
Square-root-of-negative-one Temple.
> Newsgroups: alt.homosexual,alt.politics.homosexuality,alt.sex.jesus
TOM: (annoyed) Sheesh! Even when he's *not* trying to be offensive,
he's being offensive!
MIKE: Well, you can't blame Norman for the creation of the newsgroups
he posts to...
TOM: Oh, can't I, Mike? Can't I?
MIKE: (after thinking about it for a second) Uhhhh... No.
TOM: (annoyed) Darn it.
>
> The Gates of Hell have been thrown WIDE OPEN to receive you throngs of
> sinners who refuse to turn from your wicked ways and to confess with your
> tongues that Jesus is Lord and that He can cure the vilest of afflictions,
> including homosexuality.
CROW: So apparently the mute need not apply for Salvation...
> You filthmongers will soon be in the eternal
> custody of your True spiritual "master" Satan!
MIKE: It kinda figures that Satan would be into bondage.
> The devil has convinced
> most Americans into believing that "gay is OK."
TOM: Ellen DeGeneres is the Devil?
> How easily you semen
> addicts forget that God utterly denounced all gruesome homosexual acts in
> both His Old and His New Testaments. God Almighty will not tolerate a
> single instance of homosexual desire in His Holy Heaven.
CROW: How does he account for the Sunday night concerts by Lawrence
Welk with readings by Oscar Wilde?
> It must be
> eliminated completely. You anus-sniffing jizzum-guzzlers have NO HOPE
> other than Jesus Christ to escape the Dreaded Wrath of God:
TOM: Wasn't that the original sub-title for Star Trek Five?
(Both CROW and MIKE look askance at TOM)
TOM: Uh, well... Not that I've actually *seen* it or anything... Heh.
> and to receive
> Jesus' Precious Love you must renounce your disgusting homosexual
> lifestyle forever.
MIKE: And simultaneously across the world, Florists, Dancers and Male
Models renounce their positions.
> That means saying NO to the promiscuity.
TOM/CROW: (dramatically) No!
TOM: (in a deep, commanding voice) Get away from me, promiscuity!
> That means
> saying NO to the orgies.
TOM/CROW: (dramatically) No!
CROW: Uh, wait a sec...
> That means saying NO to the oral sodomy.
TOM/CROW: (dramatically) No!
TOM: Uh, Mike? Feel free to chime in here at any time...
> That
> means saying NO to the anal sodomy.
ALL: (dramatically) No!
TOM: Actually, Mike. We wouldn't have held you to that one.
MIKE: (sighing and sounding exasperated) Tom, for the last time, I'm
not gay!
CROW: Geez, Tom. Get a clue, Ok?
MIKE: Thank you, Crow.
CROW: (muttering) Like any guy would be caught *dead* with Mike... Sheesh!
MIKE: Hey!
> That means saying no to the rimming
> ands fisting that are so common in the so-called "gay" community and
> which have cost untold thousands of sick homosexuals their lives.
TOM: (incredulously) Who wants to bet that in his next USEnet post,
Norman will be pointing out that if gays gave up homosexuality,
thousands of them wouldn't be beaten to death by self-righteous jerks
like himself?
MIKE: I wouldn't put it past him, Tom...
> The
> average homosexual's dirty anus is a hotbed of deadly viruses.
MIKE: Somehow I doubt Brother Normal personally conducted that survey.
> Yet you
> are so full of the devil that you don't want to cleanse your anal walls
> of years worth of accumulated filth. On the contrary -- you want to lick
> them and then kiss strangers, thereby spreading even more germs around the
> world and back again!
TOM: (staring at the post, dumbfounded) Oh ... my ...
CROW: He didn't just say what I think he said, did he?
MIKE: (putting his face in his hands again) Avert your eyes, guys.
Just trust me on this one...
TOM: Too late, Mike...
CROW: Far, far too late...
>
> Woe, woe, WOE unto you Godless heathen homosexuals who mock the True
> Rituals of the Holy Church by founding Cathedrals of FALSE Hope and other
> Metropolitan Communist Cults wherein the Hindu gods are as often invoked
> as the One True God!
(The guys break down laughing.)
CROW: Gay Urban Communist Hindus?
TOM: Kinda flies in the face of Marx's statement about the opiate of
the masses, doesn't it?
> God will not leave unpunished the proud, haughty,
> hard-hearted homosexual who tries to pass himself off as a True Christian.
MIKE: Yeah, but what about the proud, haughty, hard-hearted
evangelists who try to pass themselves off as True Christians?
> God sees what you do in your bedroom and is ENRAGED!
TOM: (as God in a deep voice) You! Mortals! How *dare* you tear the
"Inspected by 54" tags off your pillows?!! Martha Stewart will *not*
be pleased!
> Your body is His
> Temple. How dare you desecrate it with the semen of strangers! How dare
> you insert sacred objects into your demon-packed anuses!
CROW: Mike? Isn't calling someone's body "God's Temple" and then
saying that you shouldn't put sacred objects in it, a contradiction?
MIKE: Crow, for your own sake, don't try to get inside Brother
Normal's head. You might not get out again.
>
> God hath shewn me a New Vision.
ALL: (groaning) Oh no...
CROW: "Shewn"?
> A new gate has been installed in hell
> just for homosexuals.
TOM: It's a lovely shade of pink with chartreuse highlights!
> Hundreds of millions of them pour through the
> narrow gates every year and pass into the dark caves of Homo Hellfire,
> where they will be slow-roasted over an open fore FOREVER.
CROW: Roasted over an open "fore"?
MIKE: Golf is the national passtime in Hell, Crow...
TOM: Does Tiger Woods know about this?
> Hell wouldn't
> be so bad if you got out in a hundred years, or even in a thousand
> years. Hell wouldn't be so terrible if you got out in a MILLION years,
> in fact.
CROW: In fact, it'd be a picnic!
> However, as we all know in our hearts, no one EVER gets out of
> hell. Our torment continues for untold trillions and trillions of
> centuries.
TOM: And another desperate attempt to out-do Carl Sagan fails miserably.
> It never lets up. It only gets worse as more sinners crowd
> through the gates and force us to dig with our own hands into the
> scalding radioactive soil so that we may find a burrow of our own.
MIKE: (in an ominous voice) Where do you think you are? Holiday Inn?
> Most
> homosexuals are impaled on some sort of acid-tipped stalactite or
> stalagmite as punishment for the wanton abuse of the holy bodily orifices.
CROW: Methinks Brother Normal fixates too much on this whole
"impaling" thing. What do you think, Brother Tom?
TOM: Oh, most certainly, esteemed Brother Crow... Aside from the
obvious physical difficulties in impaling anyone on a stalactite
without them merely sliding off, it would appear that Brother Normal
really has a long way to go to overcome his own supposedly latent
homosexual desires.
CROW: Agreed, Brother Tom...
> The New Gayte (as it is called) is already bursting at the seams.
TOM: (dryly) Sounds like Hell is *Gayning* weight...
CROW: Either that or Mitzi *Gaynor* just arrived...
MIKE: At least she's still *Gaynfully* employed.
> Remember that there are NO exits in hell. Ha! Ha! Ha!
(The guys break down in laughter, sounding more and more forced and strained.)
CROW: (panting) Oh geez...!
TOM: That Norman! He kills me!
MIKE: What a joker...
(The guys stop laughing, with a pained sigh of resentment.)
>
> The road to Holy Heaven may look like an uphill climb to most of you
> flesh- and foreskin-worshippers, but it is the only way to avoid certain
> DOOM.
TOM: Well, I suppose it's better than avoiding certain QUAKE.
CROW: But not as much fun.
TOM: Oh, no... Never as much fun...
> Yes, you'll have to give up cursing. Yes, you'll have to give up
> smoking.
MIKE: Proof that even God hates the tobacco lobby.
> Yes, you'll have to give up drinking. Yes, you'll have to give
> up the pot and poppers you can no longer even maintain an erection without.
TOM: Hey! If I can't have a cast iron pot or jalapeno poppers in
Heaven, then what am I gonna do for New Years Eve hors d'oeuvres?! Go
to Surdyks?
MIKE: It's a secular holiday Tom; they only celebrate it in Hell.
TOM: Oh, rats.
> Yes, you'll have to give up all your obscene graven images.
CROW: Not my Cable Ace Award!
> Yes, you
> will have to BURN your enormous collection of pornography.
TOM: Larry Flynt *is* emperor Nero, in "Fiddling While Porn Burned"!
> Yes, you will
> have to stop going to bars, bathhouses, and dirty bookstores for cheap,
> quick thrills.
MIKE: No more cheap, quick thrills? Six Flags won't last a week.
CROW: Or the advertising industry...
> Yes, you will have to stop meeting strangers in theater
> balconies. Yes, you will have to stop going to sex clubs.
CROW: And with his decree, followers of Brother Normal start banning
the YMCA and YWCA across the globe!
TOM: Followers?
CROW: (nodding) Both of them.
> Yes, you will
> have to stop bringing forth your dirty seed in vain through acts of
> masturbation.
MIKE: Jocelyn Elders: Public Enemy Number One!
> Yes, you will have to burn the dirty phalli that you
> insert into your anuses while you masturbate. Yes, you will have to stop
> listening to fruity music.
TOM: Hey! You leave Boy George outta this!
> Yes, you will have to stop reading subversive
> literature and flowery poetry.
MIKE: Well, there goes Virginia Woolfe and Shel Silverstein...
> Nevertheless the life you save will
> surely be your own.
CROW: (as Brother Norman) I used to think it might have been your
next door neighbor's life that you'd save, but God's vision clarified
a few points for me.
>
> In Holy Heaven you will see and talk to Jesus every day and will dwell in a
> sprawling mansion.
MIKE: Countless Billions of souls will get to bend Christ's ear daily?
TOM: You'd think that his infallible Dad would've foreseen the
logistics problems with that.
CROW: Yeah, if *I* were Jesus, I'd be discouraging as many people as
possible from getting into Heaven.
> You will visit with saints and holy men and hear them
> testify of the Wonders of God.
CROW: Are you *sure* this still isn't the vision of Hell?
> You will walk on streets of gold that run
> between towers of diamond and ruby and emerald and sapphire. The Glory
> of God will outshine them all!
MIKE: Y'know, the heavenly lack of value for precious metals and
stones certainly *is* astonishing guys.
TOM: (nodding) Kinda makes you wonder why God uses them in building
materials at all when his glory should be sufficient to appeal to the
masses of Heaven. I mean, why offer up cheap alternatives to His own
Divine Grace by surrounding people with admittedly meaningless gold
and jewelry?
CROW: Maybe he's trying to distract the populace from something?
TOM: (in a deep voice) Pay no attention to the God behind the curtain!
> You will have a balcony over which you
> can see the damned in hell. You will toss down hand-signed leaflets that
> tell your unrepentant friends, "See, I told you so!"
CROW: So, the petty and spiteful shall inherit God's Kingdom?
> In short, you will
> dwell in the House of the Lord forever, for you will have escaped God's
> Boiling Wrath.
TOM: I dunno about you guys, but I wouldn't want to be roommates with
a guy who's temper is that bad.
>
> Midst scenes of wondrous Beauty
> The Saved of this earth shall dwell:
> They shall live in an ivory palace
> As tales of Redemption they'll tell!
TOM: Speaking of fruity poetry...
>
> They shall walk and talk with the Savior,
> And bathe in a Crystal Sea:
MIKE: Apparently Crystal Pepsi lives on in the afterlife.
> They'll strum pearl harps on streets of gold,
> And fore'er of all cares be free!
CROW: Except for where to find pearl harp polish at 3am...
>
> God doesn't want any of you to fry in hell forever. He is holding out
> His Mighty Hand to you,
TOM: You throw me the idol; I'll throw you the whip!
> pleasing with you to hear my Holy Gospel Message
> and REPENT now while there's still time. Then you can join me and my
> Brethren and Sistren
CROW/MIKE: "Sistren"?
TOM: Didn't you guys know? Apart from his occasional lisping,
Freudian slips and mixed metaphors, Normalboy's primary super power is
the ability to create Websterisms at will!
CROW/MIKE: (in a monotone) Our savior.
> in the House of the Lord, where we'll spend eternity
> singing Jesus' Praises in our Mansions of finest Silver and Platinum.
TOM: (in a bored tone) Which will be base and valueless in the light
of God's love... (annoyed) We know already; we know!
>
> Jesus Loveth EVEN You,
> Homosexual Scum That You Are!
MIKE: Well, when you put it *that* way... (doing a double-take) Hey!
> Jesus Is Waiting for You,
TOM: (singing) I've been waiting! For a girl like you ... to walk
into my life...
> But Will Soon Discontinue His Glorious Offer to Join Him in Paradise!
CROW: Is Norman describing God here or a time-share Condo in Venice Beach?
>
> Reverend Father Norman Boyd
CROW: Hey; wasn't he merely a 'Brother' before?
MIKE: (shrugging) Maybe God promoted him...
TOM: Personally! ...In a dream... Uh, Yeah; yeah, that's the ticket!
> Yield Unto Me and Know God As I Do!
(CROW walks to the theater exit while MIKE picks up TOM and follows.)
CROW: Y'know, I don't think I want to know God as Norman knows him.
MIKE: Don't worry Crow... *No one* knows God as Norman does...
(They depart the theater.)
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(SOL Interior. A telephone is set up on the console as we see MIKE
holding the receiver and listening to it dial.)
MIKE: (impatiently) Come on...
(The hexfield viewscreen opens up to reveal SANTA holding a telephone
receiver. His leg is propped up and in a cast.)
SANTA: North Pole; Shipping Department... How may I help you?
MIKE: (startled and turning around to face the hexfield) Yaaah! Geez!
SANTA: Well, looks like *someone's* started believing now, eh?
Ho-ho-Oohhhhhhh... (SANTA moans in pain, holding his side)
MIKE: Uh, yeah... Look, I'm calling up to apologize and to make sure
you don't -uh- hold my mistake against Tom and Crow... I'm really
sorry, Santa...
SANTA: Hold it against them? *They* weren't the ones who pushed me
into deep space...
MIKE: Uh, yeah. Guess that really could only be seen as my fault, eh?
SANTA: You got that right, bucco! This is *one* Santa who *knows*
who's naughty and who's nice!
MIKE: Great...
SANTA: (sounding slightly concerned) Why it should bother me is a
mystery, but what's got you down, son? You don't seem too merry at
the moment...
MIKE: Well, apart from still feeling *really* guilty about pushing out
out the airlock...
SANTA: ...As you should...
MIKE: (nodding) ...As I should... Well, apart from that, I'm really
put off by this email I had to just read. I mean, how much more
"Brother Norman" can the world take?
SANTA: Oh-Ho-ho-ho... Brother Norman? The evangelist? Ho-Ho-Ho!
You don't have to worry about *him* for much longer!
MIKE: (blinking) Hunh? You're going to give him coal or ... or a switch?
SANTA: Oh, heavens, no! Do you have any idea what that man would *do*
with a lump of coal or a switch? Why it'd be like putting the fox in
charge of the chicken coop! Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho!
MIKE: Uh, then what *are* you going to give him?
SANTA: (looks as if he's thinking) Hmmm... Norman... Norman... Oh,
yes... A nice, outdoor swimming pool, swim suit and new home to live
in! He's getting the works this year!
MIKE: (sounding confused) Wait a sec... He's that much of a jerk,
and he gets all that?
SANTA: Why of course! You see, his new home will be in the heart of
Loring Park!
MIKE: Loring Park?
SANTA: (nodding) Surely you've heard of it... The "Castro District"
of the Midwest? That's far more fitting than a lump of coal! Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho!
MIKE: (nodding) Ahhhh... Well then, that's pretty ... poetic.
SANTA: Yes, yes... I thought so... Well, if you don't need me any
more, I really have to get down to the workshop floor. The elves are
having a devil of a time with all those "Pokemon" schematics!
(The hexfield closes as MIKE looks bemused and the commercial sign
lights flash.)
MIKE: Sure... "Pokemon". (He taps the lights.) Man, I never knew
Santa could be so ... darkly ironic.
SANTA: (off-camera in an echoing voice) I *heard* that...!
MIKE: (wincing) Sorry, sorry...
(----------go to commercial----------)
(--------back from commercial--------)
(Theater Interior. The second USEnet rant loads on the screen.)
CROW: So, who were ya talkin' to on the hexfield there, Mike?
MIKE: (taking his seat) Uh, no one...
> Subject: Got a Demon in Your SEMEN?
TOM: Whoa!!
MIKE: (shaking his head) Right outta th' gate...
CROW: And the Offense-O-Meter pegs it at a 10.3!
> Date: 19 Aug 1999 03:42:00 GMT
> From: Reverend Norman Boyd <norma...@hotmail.com>
TOM: So, who promoted this nut from "Brother" to the position of "Reverend"?
CROW: Yeah! I demand a re-count!
> Organization: Holy Oneness Temple
> Newsgroups: alt.homosexual,alt.politics.homosexuality,alt.semen,alt.satan
CROW: (pointing at the rant) Hey look! Stan has his own newsgroup!
MIKE: That's "Satan", Crow...
CROW: Well, that's what they all say at first, but once you get to
know him, Stan's a pretty nice guy!
>
> Most homosexual men have some sort of disease that taints their dirty
> semen and, more often than not, makes it DEADLY.
MIKE: Kinda makes the Killer Bees scare of the 1970's seem kinda tame,
doesn't it?
> This is what I call "bad
> seed." It can't do what it was created for - beget life -- so with the
> devil's help it causes madness, illness, and death instead.
CROW: Mad sperm? They have brains?
TOM: And apparently, can cause illness with disuse. (to MIKE) That's
a pretty faulty body you got there Mike. You sure you don't want Crow
an' me to make you a better, mechanical one?
MIKE: (chuckling) I'm sure, Tom. Thank you.
> What most
> homosexuals -- who are convinced by Satan and his followers that they can
> never change -- don't realize is that what really causes their semen to be
> deadly is not the host of disease-causing pathogens that are a part and
> parcel of gay "life" (and DEATH)
CROW: (in Grandpa Simpson's voice) Deeeeeaaaath!
> -- although all those nasty germs
> certainly help -- but DEMONS that lurk inside their bodily fluids and spread
> all manner of EVIL.
TOM: Like epilepsy, cataracts and -worst of all- heartbreak of psoriasis!
CROW: (shouting and shaking his fist to the ceiling) Damn you, Demons!!!
> Those demons can be cast out by the Power of Almighty
> God, and bad seed can be replaced with Good. Our Holy Church has perfected
> Rituals that cleanse all types of sinners from the curse of bad seed.
TOM: Can't be any worse than the Mummy's Curse...
MIKE: Brendan Fraser?
TOM: Right.
> This includes people with other vile sexual aberrations as well, such as
> inveterate womanizing and whoremongery.
MIKE: Y'know, I'd always thought that invertebrates didn't have much
of a social structure much less engaging in womanizing and whoremongery...
(TOM sighs.)
>
> The procedure is simple. A Faith Healing Man o' God first reaches into
> the dirty anus where demons dwell and catches any that happen to be
> there.
CROW: (dubiously) And this is in no-way homoerotic because...?
> This puts pressure on the prostate that begins forcing out the
> evil that hides there (and often causes prostate cancer). Then we grab
> the stones (or testicles) where demons poison seminal fluid, and crush
> them slightly.
ALL: (appalled) YAAAAHHHH!!
CROW: Oh geez!
TOM: Whoa!
MIKE: (still wincing) I don't know what you guys are worried about;
you don't *have* "stones".
CROW: Yeah, but we'd feel your pain, Mike.
TOM: (nodding) Trust us.
> (Only in rare cases do they have to be removed altogether.)
CROW: A promise that's *guaranteed* to have the homosexual public
swarming into their churches for a free evaluation.
> Eventually every dirty drop of bad seed is forced out of the demoniac
> through the penis.
TOM: (like a Discovery Channel announcer) Coming up next, on "The Operation".
> Sometimes a special Milker is used to get every sperm
> that happens to be in there.
CROW: Again, this is in no-way homoerotic because...?
> The process can take up to two hours
> and typically leaves the person cured totally exhausted.
MIKE: After which, they usually smoke a cigarette and fall fast asleep.
> Next we collect
> all the bad seed into a vial and curse it.
TOM: Uh, isn't that seed already supposed to be damned in the first
place, Norman?
> Since it is the filthy receptacle
> of the devil, we burn it. It is usually necessary to draw blood from
> the penis to remind man being cleanses of Jesus' Sacrifice on the
> Cross of Calvary.
MIKE: For this, we use the time-honored practice of leeches!
CROW/TOM: Eeeewwww!
> All body piercings must then be sealed up and all
> tattoos removed, with a nitric acid wash if necessary. Next we lay hands
> upon the sinner and heal his afflictions.
CROW: Such as acid burns.
> By massaging the prostate
> vigorously again while singing Hymns of Praise to Our Lord we replace bad
> seed with Good.
TOM: I suppose shouting out the Lord's name during this procedure
would be Ok then?
> We extract another dollop and test it with our patented
> demon detector just to be sure it's clean.
ALL: (incredulously) Hunh?
CROW: Okay guys, I'm starting t' think that Normalboy here's either
nuttier than we suspected or he's the most annoying troll in Internet history...
> If it isn't, the whole
> process must be repeated.
TOM: (in a sleazy, aroused tone) Again and again and again!
Heh-heh... (regaining his composure) Uh, never mind.
> Sometimes the scrotum must be sliced open to
> extract demons hiding inside it. Of course, God's Holy Circumcision must
> have already been performed. We stand a poor chance against the devil's
> deadly smegma!
MIKE: But what about God's *Unholy* Circumcision?
TOM: That's only performed in secular hospitals, Mike. Normalboy's a
licensed natal doctor, you know.
MIKE: Licensed by who?
TOM: Why, God of course! Sheesh! Do I have to explain everything?
> In some countries the uncircumcised use their foreskins
> to rob people. They wave chunks of smegma under the noses of Decent
> Americans and cry, "This is a STINK-up. Hand over your money!"
CROW: Okay... He's a troll. That's all there is to it.
MIKE: I dunno, Crow... He could *still* be a religious nut. He might
be making an attempt to be funny.
CROW: Oh, please... Nelson, *no-one's* that stupid! Normalboy's
probably just some oily-faced teenager repressing his homosexual
desires by stirring up controversy in the USEnet newsgroups!
MIKE: I dunno... His ability to come across as an intolerant,
fundamentalist is *so* realistic! That's hard to fake, Crow...
CROW: Right. Like it's hard to act like an intolerant, literalist.
TOM: Well guys, either way, he gets *my* vote for most annoying and
disgusting Internet presence of the 20th century!
CROW/MIKE: Agreed!
>
> Be warned that there is nothing sensual or erotic about our Cleansing
> Ritual. It is intended to banish lustful thoughts, not to stir them up!
MIKE: Uh, Normy? Maybe you should have thought of that *before* you
started your probing and milking...
> If you feel your member hardening during this description, you must pray
> for Strength and REPENT. Satan is leading you to hell by the penis.
MIKE: Isn't that how Satan leads every man?
CROW: Well, according to Susan Powter...
> A
> filthy foreskin (ugh!) makes his work ten times easier.
>
> As long as the recently cured demoniac stays away from homosexual haunts
> and images -- including those disgusting International Male catalogues,
> his disease is GONE -- forever.
TOM: So if you read the German edition of the Sear's catalogue, you're
damned for all eternity?
> He is no longer a sexual pervert and may
> marry and raise up children almost at once.
CROW: Well, he'll still have to wait at least nine months first...
>
> The Cure is miraculous and instantaneous.
TOM: Well, except for the slicing and milking and crushing, of course...
MIKE: (wincing) Geez, stop bringing that up!
> God removes the sinner's
> unnatural homosexual lusts and replaces them with Christian Compassion
> and a strong desire to witness to other sinners
CROW: Yes, Christian Compassion that compels you to mutilate and
denounce your former gay friends and associates!
> and proclaim the Good
> News of God's Coming Kingdom, which will be ushered in VERY soon with a
> barrage of Killer Asteroids.
ALL: (in stunned disbelief) *What*?!!
CROW: Uh, Mike? Did I read that right?
MIKE: (his face in his hands) I think so, Crow. Heaven help us, but
I think so...
TOM: Ushering in the new Millennium with Killer Asteroids. *tsk*
Isn't that *just* like the Prince of Peace?
> Woe to the homosexual whose anus has not
> been ritually cleansed -- douching won't do -- and his bad seed squeezed
> out to the last drop and replaced with Good!
TOM: How much does Good cost nowadays, Mike?
MIKE: Oh, about $7.25 an ounce at Rainbow Foods.
CROW: You can get it cheaper at Cub, you know.
MIKE: Really? Well, I usually wait until I have a coupon anyway.
>
> Jesus Loveth ALL of You,
> But the Time Is Short
> The Asteroid Belt is Tightening Around Your Bulging Waist!
CROW: Hunh?
TOM: Now *there's* a mixed metaphor worthy of Mr. Furious!
>
> Reverend Norman Boyd -|-
> God's Mouthpiece |
MIKE: I wonder if God's ever given thought to cleaning out that
mouthpiece of his?
>
> * Tony, Rob, T'igg-noramus, here's the ANUS.
> * * Get down there and get busy!
> * GOD is watching you!!!
>
TOM: Geez, Norm! You make God sound like a voyeur...
(MIKE, shaking his head, rises and picks up TOM, walking past CROW.)
CROW: (to TOM as he follows MIKE) It's just Norman's wishful
thinking, Servo. Wishful thinking...
(They depart the theater.)
(.....1.....)
(.....2.....)
(.....3.....)
(.....4.....)
(.....5.....)
(.....6.....)
(SOL Interior. The place is decked out in tinsel, garlands and a
small Christmas tree. MIKE is opening the bots' presents for them as
they fidget anxiously.)
MIKE: Ok, Crow... Let's see here... (MIKE starts unwrapping a box
that is revealed to be EverQuest) Whoa... Looks like Santa's
programmers have been working over-time, Crow!
CROW: Yes! EverQuest! Now all I need is Drakken and I'm *set*!
TOM: What'd I get, Mike? What'd I get?!!
(MIKE starts looking through the shredded paper for a moment.)
MIKE: (muttering to himself) Hmmm... "Tom" ... "Tom"... Ahhh! Here
it is... (He starts unwrapping it for TOM revealing the Physician's
Desk Reference - Robot's Edition) Why Tom, it's just what you've
always wanted!
TOM: Oh, cool! Now I can start working on creating my exact
duplicate; right down to the microchips!
MIKE: (looking dubious) Uh, right...
(GYPSY wanders in, in the background as MIKE fishes around in the
paper some more.)
MIKE: Hmmmm... Here's one for Cambot... (He opens a small box and
shows it to the camera, revealing a small vanity case) Why, it's a
mirror! Just the thing for everyone's favorite fourth-wall
advocate... (The camera bobs up and down for a moment)
GYPSY: What about me, Mike?
MIKE: (looking around) Oh, Santa didn't forget you, Gypsy... Here
you go... (He pulls out a big, knitted stocking cap and slides it
over GYPSY's head) A new hat for the season!
GYPSY: Ooooohhhhh! I like it! (She looks around at all the paper)
But what about you, Mike?
TOM: Yeah? I mean, granted, you tossed Santa out an airlock, but I
woulda thought he'd be forgiving.
(The mads lights flash as MIKE taps them.)
MIKE: Well Tom, I'm just satisfied that you all got what you wanted
and it's helped make you a little bit happier. Besides, who knows?
Maybe I'll get something nice after all...
(Castle. A large group of children have invaded the place and are
busy laughing, playing and generally looking like they're having a
Christmas party. BOBO is galloping around on all fours giving
monkey-back rides while OBSERVER is demonstrating magic tricks to some
kids. A banner is up over the fireplace, proclaiming "Orphans'
Christmas Party - 1999". PEARL is standing in the foreground, arguing
with a pointy-eared man in a red and green three-piece suit.)
PEARL: Look, I'm telling you, I never volunteered my home for some ...
some ... Party!
ELF: Hey, look... You're just nervous! Don't worry about it, the
kid's'll be fine...
PEARL: No, I'm not "nervous", I'm furious! *I* didn't sign myself up
for this and I want to know who did!
ELF: I'm sorry, Ma'm, but what do you want me to do? Toss these kids
out in the snow?
PEARL: Don't tempt me...
(A little girl in a party dress comes running up and taps PEARL on the elbow.)
KID: Mother Pearl?
PEARL: (in a surly tone) Yeah?
KID: I made this for you... (She holds up a paper chain and manages
to toss it over PEARL's head) Thank you for the party!
(The little kid goes skipping away as the ELF smiles, shaking his head
and walks off-camera as it goes in for a close-up on PEARL. She's
looking stunned and as if she's trying to hold back her emotions.)
PEARL: (wiping back a sniffle) Ok Nelson, this round goes to you, but
next time, I won't be so nicey-nice! I... I... (sighing, she throws
her hands up in the air and rolls her eyes.) Oh, Merry Christmas,
Nelson! Merry Christmas, Everyone!
(Fade to black.)
-----x-----
CREDITS:
Mystery Science Theater 3000 was created by Joel Hodgson.
This MiSTing is the mental work and suffering of David J Rust.
Dr. Forrester, Pearl Forrester, Brain Guy, The Observer, Professor
Bobo, TV's Frank, Joel Robinson, Mike Nelson, Crow T. Robot, Tom
Servo, Gypsy, Cambot, Magic Voice, Deep 13, the Satellite of Love and
other specific contents are copyright (c) 1999 (currently) of Best
Brains, Incorporated and is used without permission as an act of
parody. All rights reserved.
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment
purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or
trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc., Rev. Norman Boyd or God is
intended or should be inferred.
(Keep Circulating The Tapes)
> God removes the sinner's
> unnatural homosexual lusts and replaces them with Christian Compassion
> and a strong desire to witness to other sinners and proclaim the Good
> News of God's Coming Kingdom, which will be ushered in VERY soon with a
> barrage of Killer Asteroids.