Fascist
Living page
Fascist Living: A Musical Satire
(Copyright 2001 by Joel Forrester)
Book: Joel Forrester
Lyrics: Joel Forrester
Music: Joel Forrester
Notes on Font and Typesetting of Script
There are three font conventions:
one) name of actor speaking is in italic 12 point Courier New
two) what the actor speaks or sings is regular 12 point Courier New
three) stage directions are enclosed in square brackets in [12 point Times New Roman]
There are two indenting conventions:
one) When an actor sings a musical phrase the words begin on a new line one tab unit inward and continue to wrap to the next line if necessary until the musical phrase is finished.
two) When an actor speaks (as opposed to sings) the words begin two spaces to the right of the colon that follows the name of the actor speaking.
***
High Level Table of Contents
About Joel Forrester ...................... 4
Program Note .............................. 5
Fascist Living---inside stuff ............. 6
Index of Songs in order of appearance ..... 7
Index of Scenes by Page Number ............ 8
Fascist Living Script ..................... 9
Movement Moments .......................... 46
Notes on Fascist Knowing
(by H. B. Real, D.D) ....................... 48
Composer and pianist.
Author of 1,200 musical works. These include the Minimalist classic "Industrial Arts", the off-Broadway show Fascist Living, and the theme to National Public Radio's "Fresh Air with Terry Gross". This last is the jazz work perennially most-of ten-played on American radio (81,000 times in 2002 alone).
As a young man, Forrester composed music for the early films of Andy Warhol.
He studied composition with jazz great Thelonious Monk and received his personal encouragement.
Forrester co-founded the MICROSCOPIC SEPTET which recorded and toured European and American festivals for 12 years.
Although based in New York, he plays for silent films at the Louvre and the musee d'Orsay; the Paris Voice has hailed him as "the world's leading improvisational accompanist to silent film".
Currently, he maintains jazz quartets in both New York and Paris. His New York band, PEOPLE LIKE US, has recorded for KOCH International. His solo CD on KOCH, "Stop the Music!", is considered a best-seller for a jazz release. He performs periodically on Black Entertainment Television (BET).
His piano stylings draw from stride, boogie-woogie, bebop, and trance.
Forrester is listed yearly in the Oxford Encyclopedia of Jazz.
***
"Notwithstanding the seeming idiocy of all superstitious belief, in reality everything is beholden to a set of symbolic correspondences---but they are so complex, mutable, distant, or otherwise unknowable... that it might as well not be the case."
---H.B.Real, D.D. from" Dr. Real's Table Talk"
Dramatis personnae:
Dr. Real---a sophisticated hayseed; his tone wanders, lays on a thick accent at times; suspenders
Auntie Dote---earthy, plain-spoken, large; apron or antimacassar (piece of ornamented cloth that protects the back of chair from hair oils)
Mr. Rhee---a surly yegg but speaks as if programmed; cheap, tight suit
Me---a mock-ingenue, an adult in a child's clothes,
little-girl voice; a pinafore?
Manner: folksy and ingratiating (with the exception of Mr. Rhee). All are, actually, very cruel and cold. But each is so exaggerated as to admit the possibility of double-agency.
Note to actors: This show is a combo of songs and speechifyin'. During the between-songs patter, non-speaking actors may do bits of business they've worked up. Keep movin'!
Inspirational instruction:
Imagine a poisoned world... in which no kind act can be accepted as natural, unforced, whole-hearted, or even personal. And that because of a universal standard of right-and-wrong, a universal belief that all acts have consequences, and a universal suspicion, that one is constantly under observation. I have yet to meet an organized religion that would not have that world if it could contrive it. Nor one unwilling to dispense that poison within the smaller, more actual world of its own authority. AMEN.
Make-up: All actors are in white-face except for the one presenting, Mr. Rhee, who is in yellow-face.
Second program note: "This production contains simulated 'philosophical violence."
-) Lead-ins to songs and the first spoken words after a song are are always crafted for continuity---so hit 'em hard for meaning.
-) Treat the script like music; it's filled with echoes (rhymes, repeated ideas put differently, flat-out repetition and slightly-varied repetition)---don't be subtle with them: they're like themes; and if a passage suggests a rhythm, get into it.
-) There is relationship among the characters: DR is indulgent toward MR & ME; DR & AD are complementary--each being what the other is not DR, ME, AD are amused by MR; AD scorns ME; ME worships DR. But, more deeply, each considers this his/her show and no one else's; their
antagonism is the true consequence of the FREEDOM they've killed to possess.
-) The dialogue has 4 basic forms: (1) it makes points (e .g., stopping Time through drama; power; art as diversion; getting past Modernism but using some of its ideas; freedom and authority, etc); (2) it illustrates the points (songs often serve that purpose); (3) it digresses from the points or offers a past or future point in an oblique or truncated form; and, (4} it returns to a point after going elsewhere. If you've got a line that marks one of these returns, hit it hard.
-) The way the script is typed can help you. When you see square brackets "[]", wait until the action (or the music or the effect) happens before you continue your speech. Similarly...pause when you see three dots. Underlining means you stress that word. And a colon (:) means an illustration or a consequence is to follow: treat it like that.
***
Songs in FASCIST LIVING in order of appearance
I. The Christian State of Idaho .............. 9
II. The Christian State of Idaho (verse 2)..... 11
III. "Chosen" riff ............................. 12
IV. Join the Ku Klux Klan ..................... 14
V. Vivaldi riff .............................. 18
VI. Sacred Agents ............................. 19
VII. Status Quo riff ........................... 22
VIII. Marching Backwards ........................ 23
IX. When the Bombs Fall ....................... 26
X. C'est Normale ............................. 28
XI. The Loyalty Drag .......................... 31
XII. Don't Blame Me...I'm an Artist ............ 33
XIII. Armageddon riff ........................... 34
XIV. Take a Life riff .......................... 37
XV. Kill for Christianity ...................... 38
XVI. Oh Come all ye Feckless riff .............. 40
XVII. Don't You Believe It! ..................... 41
XVII. Coda ...................................... 44
***
Act I Scene 1 ............................ 9
Act I Scene 2 ............................ 11
Act I Scene 3 ............................ 13
Act I Scene 4 ............................ 19
Act I Scene 5 ............................ 23
Act I Scene 6 ............................ 26
Act I Scene 7 ............................ 28
Act I Scene 8 ............................ 31
Act I Scene 9 ............................ 35
Act I Scene 10 ........................... 37
Act I Scene 11 ........................... 40
Act I Scene 12 ........................... 44
[Empty stage with four stools. Enter four characters, bickering: Dr. Real, Auntie Dote, Mister Rhee, Me. Audible lines:
"Show some respect!" / "Make me! Make me!"
"Okay, I'm not real. But I represent something real." / "There's a difference?"
"You don't hafta watch, y'know: it's just one of them shows on the Guilt Channel."
"No, no! Established religion is an organized crime."
"Which side you on: that's the only question."
Argument continues as they assume their stools. Piano (or sax if possible) sounds a pitch. Bandleader tosses pitchpipe to Me. All fall silent.]
[SONG I ---> THE CHRISTIAN STATE OF IDAHO]
All (singing):
The Christian State of Idaho is
calling on all whom we resemble
to fall on their knees and worship Him
Who causeth the Infidel to tremble.
He knows when ye yield to temptation
and deny the cry of these thy brethren.
So shun not your Nation's toll-free line
and Heaven will return your call!!
[END SONG I ---> THE CHRISTIAN STATE OF IDAHO]
DR. REAL (spoken): Hi, y'all! I'd be the Reverend Hiram B. Real, D.D.! And, as predicted in Galoshes 2.2., you see before you four duly-annointed, Biblically-bibulous, bored-again sales representatives from the Christian State of Idaho. Here!, today!, in the world capital of spuritchewal decay
[Organ in]
...to bare witless to our belief in Belief-beyond-belief. To proffer hoax, AIDS, 'n' succour to the lonely put-upon white man who dwelleth here in alienated profusion. To let him know that every time he feels poisoned by the Gombeen Man and his media
[Others brandish signs: EVER AGAIN!]
...or has his job threatened by some career-minded, unclean, sexless freemale...or finds in his very family a nest of fairies...or worse: when he fears that the fear that has made him what he is is no longer bright hot ardor, but has become---all of a sudden---naught but ember....
[Organ Out: signs away]
He may remember!
[Woodblock galloping]
...that in the polestar northwest of this formerly-incorporated 1and of ours rides a rough-hewn posse culled from our clan's high drama-clergy---pathetic tragedians, situation comedians!--- ready at a mummer's notice to act out the power fantasies of yer sad neurotic who jes' cain't figger how
[Blocks out]
---in a sassiety where the white male has it all---he, personally, ain't gettin' any! Friend, we got yer problem... writ large! You can relax: The Christian state of Idaho is in the spiritual-identification business, structured along the lines of yer classic protection racket.
[Aside]
Use the same voice for the disclaimer 'n' yuh make it part of the ad, right?
[Back to the pitch]
Y'say you don't feel free to feel free anymore?: you just home in on us, Onan! Look here, Seed-spiller: every real man's a state trooper in his dreams. "Pullover, America! We'll do your dreamin' for you!" ---and out in real life, where dreams belong! That's where we four are coming from. 'N' if you're impressed with the little songs 'n' stories our agit-prop team puts before you this hour and you feel a sudden calling to jerk out yer checkbook, rest assured that your name---and, for a wee additional indulgence, that of your fambly ---will be added to that great roll of all those in whose name we take revenge ...when the DAY finally come.
AUNTIE DOTE/MISTER RHEE/ME (at first jangling, disputational): Come come! Come come!, etc.
[Then in monotonous cadence; arms & hands beckoning]
Come come! Come come!, etc.
[Continues until Dr. Real passes his hand over them]
DR: The DAY on which we as a species...finally come clean!
[Me sounds pitch]
[SONG II ---> THE CHRISTIAN STATE OF IDAHO (verse 2)]
ALL (singing):
The Christian State of Idaho
is manned by the Lamb's own chosen tribes.
We're sworn to perform those acts on earth
His awful Will prescribes.
We wait for the DAY OF PURGATION
when our purity will win permission
to taste of the blood of all we hate
made sweet by our Redeemer's love.
All-men!!
[END SONG II ---> THE CHRISTIAN STATE OF IDAHO (verse 2)]
AD (spoken): Well, not quite all men. We got some male-identified heifers among us. 'N' some longer in the tooth. Like myself: I'm Auntie Dote. Doctor Real's too ornery to say it, but all four of us is quite aware that we're taking our lives in our hands, appearing this deep in alien territory.
[They all shudder...then shrug and look pugnacious]
...or we would be. See: we're not actually here, Folks. We're just...would-be characters from the collective unconscious, okay?
ME: We're projections. We're only real through your belief.
AD: Right. But we're not without surprises. Eee gee:
even though I'm a mother many times over, I believe in mass exposure to the hillsides unless our species overcome its profoundly prolonged adolescence, right soon!
[Others offer brief, metronomic applause]
...or take the presence of Mr. Rhee, here. Don't it display the grandeur of our tolerance, though!, to have a Ko-rean runnin' with a white tribe!? 'N' he's earned his spurs, too. He's practically a honorary cock-Asian, a Chosen Person in his own right. Kom-so-hom-nee-dah, Mr. Rhee!
MR. RHEE (surly; to the Audience): I...am an individuated sentient being...in no way "representative" of the race into which I happened to be born.
AD: See, that there's the makin's of a good American!
MR: Nor do I "represent" the happy accidents of my national origin, my gender, or my social class!
DR: Y'all can see why we like havin' this boy along fer the ride...even if he is a tad weak in his 'prishiashun of Guard's pre-recorded plan.
MR: Moreover, I cannot be said to "stand for" my family, my order, my kingdom, my phylum---
DR: Waaalll, hold on there, Pardner, back up. Don't be speakin' blithely of family, not amongst us! For white Christophiles, the family structure is the Guard-given conduit for His holy Fear---the fear that doth inform us all! ...Fear: it's yer great pulse-quickener: it's what animates human existence. And the best way to meet fear is on its own terms...with tribal pride.
[Darker]
So when somebody starts talkin' about Chosen People, I say: "Choose yer weapons, Pal. You are speakin' to a white man!
[Musical lead-in]
ALL (singing):
We're the only truly Chosen People!
We're the only truly Chosen Feople!
MR (singing):
Everybody wants a Chinese girlfriend!
[END SONG III ---> "Chosen" riff]
DR (chuckles; spoken): Now, son, that just couldn't be the way the song goes!
[To the audience; in radio-preacher mode]
...Anyway, one early point to be made is this: Guard's commandment Thou Shalt Not Kill?, it only applies when the prospective killee and the killer be both among the chosen. When that ain't the case---
ME (pulls his coat; interrupting): Doctor Real? Doctor Real? What
about me? ME?
DR (again chuckles): Little Missy Me, I was just gettin' to thee.
[To the Audience:]
See: Me, here---
ME (to the Audience): I'm Me!
DR: ---she's the subjective element in our presentation.
She's forever in the objective case, when viewed from without. We in Idaho have found that women like it that way.
ME: I don't object to anything.
DR: Yup, she's the butt.
AD: Y'all might find it weakly-pleasing to identify with her. Or... if yer bold, you can chance losing your self in our more established personalities, like myself or the bad Doctor.
MR: Nor do I represent my species!
DR: That'll do, Mr. Rhee....
DR: Well, we'd like to sing a song for you now in which all four of us represent ourselves. It's a recruiting song for a spiritual ancestor of our'n, the virtual Wobblies of the Right Wing! 'N' it's ee-clayped "Join The KU Klux Klan" .
[SONG IV ---> Join the Ku Klux Klan]
ALL (singing):
K K -! KKK! Oh---!
DR:
Doctor Real
AD:
And Auntie Dote
MR:
And Mister Rhee
ME:
And Me
ALL:
We...rallied here to JOIN THE KU KLUX KLAN!
MR:
And wasn't it religious!
ME:
Born again!
AD:
She's born again!
ALL:
We're born again tonight... we saw the light and joined the Ku Klux Klan!
ME:
Oh Man....
AD/MR/DR:
We saw a burning cross
ME:
I fell to sleep
AD/MR/DR:
We made a spy confess!
ME:
I dreamed of death! And when I woke the smoke was in my brain!
AD/MR/DR:
Tonight we hunt the Jew
ME:
I heard them say
AD/MR/DR:
We think it might be you!
ME:
They turned my way.... No-no, I said: I'm not a Red!
AD/MR/DR:
Hail!
[Nazi salute]
ME:
Bound a sheet about my frame and signed my name in blood to show
[concurrently with ME above]
AD/MR/DR:
K K K!
ME (continued from above):
them all I loved the Ku Klux Klan---or else they might've killed me! Anyway it was all in fun! I've got my gun. I'm--
ALL:
ONE with all the men who JOIN THE KU KLUX KLAN!!
[16 bars for the band]
ME/DR:
We're living for the DAY
AD/MR:
Guard's on our side
ME/DR:
We blow the blacks away!
AD/MR:
That's why we ride
ALL:
in caravan to scare the-man-inside!
AD:
You never see my face
ME/DR:
So why prepare?
MR:
I'm in the Master Race
ME/AD/DR:
We're ev'rywhere!
DR:
Number your needs!
AD:
Finger yer beads!
ME/MR/DR:
Hail!
[Nazi salute]
ME:
Costume balls in haunted halls and barbeques at dawn
[concurrently with ME above]
AD/MR/DR:
K K K!
ALL:
While Silly Willie looks the other way!
MR:
Hey! Make the man a member!
ALL:
Pretty soon
ME:
with help from Guard
ALL:
we'll win the world for white folks and ev'ryone will JOIN THE KU KLUX KLAN! K! K! K! O.K.
[END SONG IV ---> Join the Ku Klux Klan]
ME (spoken): Thanks, Everyone.
[Drums play soft funk rhythm]
But for those who slithered in somewhere in the middle of that hymn, we should probably tell you where you are.
[Others line up behind Me and wave their arms Hindoo-fashion] This here is a kind-of reactionary hootenanny, Kali meets Shiva.
[Me giggles]
Underneath it all, we're trying to hawk our Idaho bonds, which'll go toward the purchase of enough arms... to render each of our citizens utterly impregnable!
[Others step out and gesture to their private parts, as does Me, latterly; then each consults an imaginary wristwatch]
But what of Time's wing-ed chariot, you say. Surely he could find a way in. That Devil! He thought he'd created enough momentum with his Fall that we'd all perforce tumble down with him. Looked that way forever! But, now, we in Idaho have discovered the means to resist Old Snatch!
AD: What the wordy girl means is that we got'a way---[with drum hits]
to STOP TIME!
[Silence; then drums revert to funk rhythm]
ME: That's right. 'Cause way out on the surface of things, we're about scouring the sex out of pornography... while retaining its three big-time benefits:
[With drum hits]
ME/DR/MR: One!
AD: Its strict objectification of the world.
ME/DR/MR: Two!
AD: Its substitution of images for what's actually going on. And, most impatiently---
ME/DR/MR: Three!
AD: Its dependence on what's already happened.
[Musical cue from Vivaldi]
ALL (singing):
Do you want to cling to the past?
[Vivaldi answer]
[END SONG V --> Vivaldi riff]
ME: We believe...
[Funk returns]
that any form can be occupied, once its vitality has said vaya con dios.
MR: We act as one to repossess the past and stop time in its tracks!
[Funk rhythm out]
DR: Well, now, that ain't strictly the case, Mister Rhee. You 'n' me, we are creepin' closer to the grave---a fine 'n' private place, I've always thought, a happy ending. Nope, it's rather that it don't feel like time's elapsin'...not when you're willingly caught in the sacred coils of identification with Authority. Folks, all dominance is purposeful identification with Guard.
Guard is immortal. I dominate in order to hide from my mortality. Us Skinshirts, we got ourselves hid good!
[A sign saying GUARD appears (most happily in the flies) and all give it the straight-arm salute, whereupon it vanishes]
AD: Maybe we'd best be called Fascinationists. You lose yourselves in us... as we are lost in the Divine Will. And, alright. so maybe time won't really stop--- but you'll never know the difference! And we Fallen critters can only go, by what we know, y'know.
DR: So... when all us characters be vibrating in sympathy with the capital A author, resonant with Purple Purpose... just what manner of script will He dictate?, you might wonder.... Well of course, it ain't given to us to know. But
[Tension music]
...as we look out over our contemptuary post-Modren whirrrled, we can divine the general drift
[Others Shiver]
of a chiliastic plot-line... and even spot them locky, lucky sons whom Guard has tapped to be His...Sacred Agents. Tell the crowd about it. Auntie!
[Shivers cease]
AD (singing verse 1):
Richard Speck and Charlie Manson and the Shining Son of Sam
sitting stoned in Wholesome Prison, talkin' 'bout the Fate of Man
when a ghostly apparition sent a terror through their bones
and they recognized their master: the Rev'rend Jimmy Jones...and he said:
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
MR (singing verse 2):
Richard Speck was put beside himself. He took the Rev to mean
that he'd soon be on the streets again, his bloody record clean.
"I can now enroll in nursing school," he said with quiet pride.
But the Rev'rend Jim just laughed at him
and poked him in the side, saying---
AD:
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
(singing verse 3)
Jim explained that Guard is angry with the humans far below
just 'cause ev'ry time He tunes us in He sees the same old show
and so He's rootin' for the bad-guys and He won't get in their way.
That's what Rev'rend Jim reported as the Good News of the day. He told 'em---
ALL:
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
ME:
(singing verse 4)
Then the Son of Sam he shouted out he'd always felt inspired.
It was no surprise for him to learn he'd been Divinely hired!
Why, he'd even fooled The Times' shrink into thinking he was sane.
And he used to work as a postal clerk [Others raise hands in apprehension] before he won his fame. Jim answered---
AD:
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
DR:
(singing verse 5)
Jim said Guard got tired of waitin' for the humans to evolve
and He doesn't like commercials where we beg Him for his love,
so He'll have to change the channel if our story stays the same
and we'll die to keep on living with our Dead to take the blame, and Jim said---
ALL (holding cue-cards for Audience sing-along):
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
AD (suddenly slow):
(singing verse 6)
Then at last old Charlie Manson said it didn't have to be,
that he thought the human mind could stretch beyond Eternity.
And he couldn't quite believe in any god he couldn't smell...
[Pause; then a tempo]
"And with guys like us in Heaven
Then it might as well be Hell! But Jim said---
ALL (rousing):
(chorus)
"Boys, I've been Up Yonder and I want you all to know
that there's a place for you in Heaven when you go!
Because The Lord has tired of this lazy human race and its killers are His SACRED AGENTS now!"
[END SONG VI --> Sacred Agents]
[SONG VII --> Status Quo riff]
AD (continues "now" from prior song by howling like a coyote): Owwwwwwwww!!!
[Others applaud Auntie Dote then break into rhythmic clapping: Auntie Dote dances until cue out; band joins for 8 bars]
DR/MR/ME:
(singing)
Restore the status quo, Auntie!
Put things back the way they were!
Restore the status quo, Auntie!
Put things back the way they were!
MR:
(singing)
Restore the status quo, Auntie!
[Drum hit;Auntie Dote stops dancing, looks dejected; Doctor Rea and Me beam]
A race possessed by Holy-Fear!
[END SONG VII --> Status Quo riff]
ME (spoken): Possession.. .is all there is: you either have it...or you're nowhere. Guard has it all: He's full of it! The best we can do is to dominate each other as He dominates us. The more purely we rank-order ourselves---the more accurate our chains of command---the more frequently and vibrantly are we apt to be visited [Dreamily]
with Power. Each lurch toward statistical impersonality is an homage to Guard the Great Impersonator!
AD: Not that we humans earn or deserve these visits.
Imitation is all the Fallen can muster: there is but one Creator.
MR: We are ourselves the monkeys from which the
evilutionists imagine we evolved
DR: But when we line up right
[Organ in]
---Dad rules the family; the cop rules the beat; the sheriff rules the county; the state-police the state [Organ out]
---then!, life becometh one grand prayer for Power. And when---in His rootin' tootin' absolute wisdom---Guard the Fathom All-Mental grants that prayer, the whole dang chain gets electrified!
AD (agreeing): Power is a current passing through us.
It's an A-number-one substitute fer that "moment" in quotes that them Zen Communists is always trying to crawl into.
MR: Fuck the "moment"!! The "moment" is history!
ME: But Power is also our currency. It enables us to buy time.
DR: Little Me's dead-on with that point! All that existeth in time is rotten; that's a given. So... 'stead of always striding hippity-hap-hazardly towards your personal date with The Maker, if'n you allow one moment of Divine possession today--- one touch of Power--- it may give ye the wherewithal... to march backwards.
[SONG VIII --> Marching Backwards]
ALL (singing while marching backwards):
Backwards! We're MARCHING BACKWARDS!
I'd like to know: where do we go from here?
All we've lived for is fast retreating
as we step steadily to the rear.
The terrain below makes the going slow
'cause our feet never know what they're tramping on!
MARCHING BACKWARDS while facing forwards.
You'd best obey: Out of our way! Get gone!!
Join the army. Watch your back! Learn computers. Air attack
Help those nifty client states get to be all they can be!
Follow orders: [Spoken] Take a chance! [Sung] Keep misgivings in your pants.
All your leaders got to be where they are by playing dumb....
Come then away from "real life"
and make a game out of the shame you feel.
MARCHING BACKWARKS away from freedom.
Banner unfurled [Unfurl banner reading: BRINGING THE WORLD TO HEEL] bringing the world to heel! Arf! Arf! Arf!
[24 bars to the band while All strut around backward with banner; then banner is furled as singing resumes]
The terrain below makes the going slow
'cause our feet never know what they're tramping on!
MARCHING BACKWARDS! Forever backwards!
There's no alarm over the harm we do, 'cause we ignore it!
Vict'ry will obscure it! Who'll be left to deplore it?
When the whole world goes MARCHING BACKWARDS?!?!
[END SONG VIII --> Marching Backwards]
DR (spoken): Yasss, we Fascists do have answers. We know what to do with Power. Oh, yeah, maybe it's possible to organize a way of life that curtails its exercise---speakin' of Power--- or steps down its ability to tempt. Or maybe its possible to re-align self-fulfillment with cooperation.
MR (with contempt): Or maybe huge human projects will announce themselves--- so massive in scope yet so charged with personal meaning for all
[Actor drops character, speaks from the heart if he can]
---that everybody will just COME OFF IT!!!
[Re-assumes character with spooky Kabuki warrior-pose]
AD: Or maybe...a new area of the brain will flower...
[All seem struck momentarily by this idea but then form a Marx Brothers circle]
ALL (trudging and chanting): BUT WE KINDA SORTA DOUBT IT!
WHILE WE KINDA SORTA DOUBT IT!
AND WE KINDA SORTA DOUBT IT!
IF WE KINDA SORTA DOUBT IT!
SO WE KINDA SORTA DOUBT IT!
[All stop]
DR (separating himself from the others): Nope. I fer one don't see any anti-Power-blocs formin'. Not on the event-horizon of
this species.
[Hefts an imaginary rifle]
I'd put 'em in my sights if'n I saw any. But I don't see any. Do you?
AD/MR/ME (singing with random pitches):
Not-see not-see not-see! [1 beat]
We do not see. We do not see [1 beat]
Not-see not-see not-see! [1 beat]
We do not see. We do not see [1 beat]
Not-see not-see not-see! [1 beat]
We do not see. We do not see [1 beat]
DR (spoken): No. And in the absence any force beyond Power, why not come to your senses and hide out behind the likes of us: folks who worship Power, yes, as an Impersonal Pull that we identify with Guard Hisselves: He's where the Power is banked. And He suffers us to draw on Him...like the pelican brood its mother's blood.
AD: Aw, shoot, Doc: nobody believes that anymore!
DR: Nor anything else! That's where we come in! We're about bring in' belief back to the surface where it kin work its wonders. Who else among you but the Fascists are aware of the occult power of sentimentality and its ultimate expression: nostalgia for nuclear annihilation?
ME: Everybody knows that yer yuppie will fuck himself, given a choice. Well...we Fashionists out-self yea even the cell-phonies! We say: If I must inevitably die, let the whole world go with me!
[SONG IX -->When the Bombs Fall]
[Band plays 4-bar intro; then Me sings:]
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL you can't hide in Istambul
It won't matter if you're cool or where your father went to school.
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL watch your problems fall away.
All those bills you'll never pay WHEN THE BOMBS FALL!
MR [sings]:
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL all us wage-slaves will be free! We'll have true democracy: no one better off than me!
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL no more hit-men left alive.
It's a shame you won't survive WHEN THE BOMBS FALL.
[8-bar interlude for the band]
AD [sings]:
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL things get strangely simplified.
you won't have to choose a side when your flesh is being fried.
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL you will meet your friends again and the future never ends WHEN THE BOMBS FALL.
ME [sings]:
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL there'll be danger in the air, mystic fallout everywhere..not that anyone will care.
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL, it's a drama dressed to kill just like Cecil B. deMille..WHEN THE BOMBS FALL.
[8-bar interlude for the band]
AD:
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL instant karma while you wait!
No one left to love or hate. Yes, we'll share a common fate.
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL you can answer Jesus' plea:
"Lord, I'm just as dead as Thee WHEN THE BOMBS FALL!!"
DR:
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL conscious memory disappears, drunks in dreamland raise their beers to the Music of the Spheres.
WHEN THE BOMBS FALL, you can lay your burden down.
Please make sure to be around WHEN THE BOMBS FALL.
[4-coda interlude for the band]
ALL (spoken): Boom....
[END SONG IX -->When the Bombs Fall]
[A sign descends reading: "the end of the world"; Auntie Dote, Mister Rhee, and Me continue to bow, even to milk applause...as if not only for the last song but for the parenthetical apocalypse. Doctor Real stands apart, seems to remember something important, pulls an envelope out of his back pocket with his left hand, shushes the others with his right]
[There follows a section in recitative; pianist should use harpishord mode and strike chords as marked; actor need only speak/sing the lines diatonically; first chord is struck]
DR (recitative):
[first chord]
Folks...I'm in receipt of a letter here from a well-wisher [Looks up coyly] ---beats a four-flusher!--- who sez
[puts on glasses (down the nose)]
[second chord]
"Dear Doctor Real--- I'd like to be a Fascist... mostly for the health benefits. But somehow I still feel there's something unnatural about being a bully."
[glasses away]
[cadence chords]
Actually, Folks, being a bully is the most natural
thing in the world. The biggest bully of them all is Guard-the-Fathom-All-Mental
[Chords]
And looky-here-now!: we get unexpected support in a borrowing from the godless Moderns: their notion of socal Darwinism!
[Cadence chords]
We too figger the strong should dictate to the weak. [Chord]
...A'course we don't think we survived as a species because we "evolved" that way--- as bullies. Nope, that's just how Guard made us.
[Cadence chords]
[end recitative]
[Spoken] Back in the Dead-ball Era, when Ty Cobb led the league, you think them Dee-troit fans had something "ethical" against his sharpened spikes?
ME: Too long ago, Doc.
MR: Too far away.
DR: All right. all right.
[Thinks]
How's this? : When the Frogs welcomed Adolf to their pond without so much as a croak, they knew they were...only being normal!
AD/MR/ME: Everybody's bent go-axe go-axe.
[Musical arpeggio]
DR (singing):
C'EST NORMALE! C'EST NORMALE!
[Auntie Dotie, Me, Mister Rhee one-by-one grab their necks and, stricken, collapse on the floor]
You think it matters if you hit the ball fair or foul??
Take your base anyhow. No one will love you 'til you've learned to throw your weight around.
Sound a trifle too outre? [pronounced: "oo-tray"; it means "unconventional"] Hey! No way!
It's not a Sin to stay within what most folks allow.
Nobody cares how fair the play. The rules are only a display.
So be a bully and you'll see your fellow felons shrug and tell you: C'EST NORMALE!
AD/MR/ME:
C'EST NORMALE! C'EST NORMAE!
[Singing from the floor]
You think it matters if you hit the ball fair or foul??
Take your base anyhow. No one will love you 'til you've learned to throw your weight around.
DR:
Sound a trifle too outre? Hey! No way!
AD/MR/ME:
It's not a sin to stay within what most folks allow. [Stand up]
DR:
I could get nervous in the night if people thought me too polite
'cause I'm a bully and I see my fellow felons shrug and tell me: C'EST NORMALE!
AD/MR/ME:
C'EST NORMALE! C'est a dire! [pronounced "say uh deer"]
DR:
So take advantage of the current climate of fear.
AD/MR/ME:
Disavow! Disappear! No one will bug you if you find a way to beat the rap!
DR:
Happy is the man whose name passes blame.
But if it doesn't, don't be quick to toss in the towel.
Yer brutal dude who thinks like me reflects the vast majority.
So act the bully and you'll see your fellow felons shrug and bellow:
ALL (bellowing; save Dr. Real, who sings):
C'EST NORMALE!!
DR:
Hew to the norm and you'll sleep through any storm!!
[End of SONG X ----> C'EST NORMALE]
AD (spoken): Say, Doc: Your song pre-minded me of that ol' French tickler: You kin lead the whores t'combat but ye cain't make 'em fight.
DR: All too true, Auntie. Yassss, once upon a time, there was a semite named Jesus---who came to earth with powers 'n' abilities waaaaaaayyyyy beyond---
ME (pleading, tugging at his sleeve): Dr. Real, Dr. Real.
DR: Yes, Honey.
[Brief recitative follows; first chord]
ME (recitative):<