Huffington's in a Huff

Categories: Arts

michael%20gene%20sullivan.jpg

Michael Gene Sullivan, San Francisco-based actor and playwright, Mime Troupe honcho (he's the head writer for the famed local political theatre group) and sometime Huffington Post contributor, has been dissed by Ariana.

Says ASD's theater critic Chloe Veltman: Sullivan's latest and sadly rejected blog contribution to the Post is a scathingly funny commentary in mini-screenplay form based on statements made by Bill O'Reilly comparing liberal bloggers (especially sites like DailyKos.com) to the Ku Klux Klan. According to Sullivan, the The Post's publishers won't print his words. I find this exasperating. It doesn't help the liberals' public image one bit. To right-wingers, the Post's decision might suggest that liberal blogs are indeed like the Ku Klux Klan in one vital way -- they don't have the guts to show their real faces. The irony is clobbering.

Read on for a peak at Sullivan's clever posting.

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD. DAY
Long shot of the sun piercing a cloudless sky like a white hot needle.
Pan shot down to a rust colored road that winds between vast plantation fields.
In the fields workers struggle in the heat, backs bent, picking as they sing a dolorous work song:


"Help me, Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda..."

CUT TO:
EXT. FIELD. DAY
Close up on the workers. Three middle aged men, HANNITY, TUCKER, and LIMBAUGH are sweating mightily in the noon sun. After a moment HANNITY steps over to a water bucket, and takes a drink from the dipper. Limbaugh steps up, takes dipper from him, pours water over his own head.

CUT TO:
EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD. DAY
Down the road clatters a bicycle ridden by a lanky, handsome man in a tattered herringbone suit, coated in dust.


HANNITY
Well, looky there!

TUCKER
What? Hey, ain't that -


HANNITY
O'Reilly's boy, ain't it?

TUCKER
Bill!

BILL slows his bike, stops near the men.

HANNITY
Where you goin' at, boy?

BILL
Big meetin' tonight up to old man Cheney's place.

TUCKER
Meetin'?

HANNITY
What kinda consarnation ya'll cookin' up now?


BILL
Well, he got some folks what come to speak -

HANNITY
Folks? What folks?

BILL
From down aways... Birmingham, Houston -

LIMBAUGH
Southerners!


TUCKER
Hush!

HANNITY
What they doin' up here?

BILL
Here to talk about Freedom...

LIMBAUGH
Oh, lawdy, lawdy!

TUCKER
Hush!

HANNITY
Boy, ain't you heard? We free now! General Gingrich seed to that back during the War!

BILL
Just cuz the South won don't mean we's free! Federals got whipped, but what changed? We still here sweatin' on the Obama plantation -

LIMBAUGH
Oh, lawdy, lawdy!

TUCKER
Hush!

HANNITY
Folks up here don't cotton to no carpetbagger from -

BILL
These ain't carpetbaggers!

TUCKER
Who are they?


BILL
Say they from the NAACP.

TUCKER
N double what?

BILL
National Association for the Advancement of Capitalist Pigs.

LIMBAUGH
Lawdy!

TUCKER
Hush!

LIMBAUGH
Hush yo' sef! This boy's talkin' crazy talk, and ya'll know what's best you'll shut yo' ears!


HANNITY
Dat's right! Massa Barak don't hold to his folks talking 'bout -

BILL
He ain't our massa! He just a man! And if we all jus' pull together -

There is a sound in the distance.

LIMBAUGH
Hold up... wass dat sound?

They look down the road.

TUCKER
Ain't Massa's car...

CUT TO:
EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD. DAY
On the road there is a spray of dirt and gravel, and a swirl of dirt, as a dull car skids to a halt near the men. It is a Prius. On the bumper is a sticker "I BREAK FOR PEACE." The door opens, and a long, sensuously fatigue pants clad leg stretches out. A woman, CINDY, steps out of the car. Moving like a hungry cat, she slinks up to the men, takes the dipper from Limbaugh's limp hand, and has a long, cool drink.

CINDY
Hot out here... ain't it...

HANNITY
Mornin', Miss Sheehan...

CINDY
More like afternoon...

Cindy looks up at the sky, letting the water from the dipper run down the front of her thick army issue hoodie.

CINDY (CONT'D)
And ain't I told ya'll call me Cindy? 'Specially you, Bill -

TUCKER
But, Miss Sheehan, Massa Obama don't like -

CINDY
You ain't afraid, are you, Bill? Big man like you...

She runs her fingers over his broad chest, then walks over to his bicycle.

CINDY (CONT'D)
This yo bike, Bill?

BILL
Yes'm.

CINDY
Good exercise... bet it keeps you... fit...

BILL
Well -

Cindy steps on the spokes of the front wheel, breaking them.

CINDY
Now look what I done!

BILL
My bike...

TUCKER
You ain't goin' nowhere on that.

CINDY
Was you goin' somewhere, Bill? Well, don't you worry...

She goes back to her car, and sits in the driver seat. Facing Bill, she slowly opens her legs.

CUT TO:
INT. CINDY'S CAR. DAY.
P.O.V. FROM BETWEEN CINDY'S LEGS.

CINDY
Maybe I can give you a ride...

On Bill's face is a look of shock and awe.

LIMBAUGH
Oh, lawdy.

HANNITY
Well, we best git back to work -

TUCKER
Sho, you right! These loquats ain't gonna pick theyselfs -


The three men return to the field.

CINDY
Bill...?

BILL
I'm much obliged, ma'am, but I think I best walk.

CINDY
Walk? Don't be stupid! I'm offering you... a ride...

BILL
Ma'am -

CINDY
Low emissions, Bill...

BILL
I gotta go.

He walks off.

CINDY
Where do you think you're... Bill... what, you...You get back here right now, Bill O'Reilly! Bill! Boy, don't you walk away from me! Don't nobody turn down milage this good!

CUT TO:
EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD. DAY
High shot as Bill walks down the road. After a moment there is another spray of dust as the Prius speeds past. Bill doesn't slow.

CUT TO:
INT. THE CHENEY SHACK. NIGHT.
The run down, one room home of Pops Cheney. The room, lit by a single naked bulb of an old floor lamp, is packed with men, and one woman, all facing a low bench. An old man, CHENEY, is standing on the bench.

CHENEY
Now, ya'll know me, know I wouldn't steer ya wrong. Ain't a one a ya here but don't come to me when things go whichaways bad. And now I'm telling all you men -

MAN
And woman -

CHENEY
What?

MAN
Condi's here, too.

CONDOLEEZA
Don't mind me!

CHENEY
Never do. Now, listen up! This here is Karl. I'm tell ya'll to listen to what this here fella's got to say! Das all I'm axin'. Go 'head!

KARL ROVE, balding and middle aged, steps onto the bench.

ROVE
Brothers and Sister, thank you for your warm welcome, and for your bravery! Because each one of you is brave just for being here tonight, brave just to dream of a better day -

CHENEY
Preach, brother!

ROVE
All of you are heroes! Because each one of you has an ache in your heart for Freedom! I share that ache! I, too, have that dream of the day when we can all stand proudly on God's green earth, and be judged not by the content of our character, but by the content of our portfolios! I... I had a dream last night. Well, it was more of a guided visualization, really - I visualized a day when the Federal government is so weakened by Neo-con machinations that it has no choice but to free all our corporate brothers from the shackles of bondage and regulations, I had a visualization last night! I visualized a day when my four little children could walk hand in hand onto my yacht, knowing they will pay no taxes on anything they might inherit from me, and when the sufferings of the impoverished multitudes will not be seen as the natural result of tax cuts and Capitalism, but will be blamed on the poor themselves, I had a visualization!

Bill is at the back of the room, his face aglow with hope and wonder.

ROVE (CONT'D)
I saw a day when men of all shades of pink controlled almost all of the wealth of the Nation, and still had the courage to complain about reverse discrimination! I saw a working class so distracted by crushing debt, so debilitated by manipulated fear, so divided by race, so hypnotised by a system that dazzles with luxuries while denying necessities that those workers are too confused to unite and recognize their real enemy! I had a visualization! I have seen the promised land, where our tiny monied minority control both Parties, and whoever wins we will have a permanent majority! Now, I may resign and not get there with you, but I know that -

There is a sound outside.

CHENEY
Hold on...

He turns off the light. All is still, as the men all crouch in the dark.

ROVE
What... what's that smell?

CHENEY
Smells like... biodiesel!


Suddenly the door is kicked open. Outside a pick-up truck is gently idling. Energy efficient florescent flashlights dully shine onto the faces of the cowering men. In the door only the outlines of three people can be seen.

VOICE
Well, well... what we got here?

Cheney clutches his heart.

CHENEY
Sweet Jesus!

He falls unconscious to the floor.

ROVE
Pops!

VOICE
Which one of you boys is -

CINDY
That's him! That's the one! It was Bill!

BILL
Miss Cindy?

VOICE
Don't you talk to her, boy!

The man hits Bill on the head with a laptop. As Bill slumps, he is dragged outside.

CUT TO:
EXT. CHENEY SHACK. NIGHT.
In the headlights of the truck the two men can be seen: each is wearing a tie-dyed sheet, and a backwards baseball cap with a long hemp flap covering their faces. Cindy is crying as she leans against the truck, pointing at Bill. As the first man goes to hit Bill again the other stops him.

OBI-WAN
Don't mess him up too much Wu-tang! We don't want to alt-delete him here!

WU-TANG
Yer right, Obi-Wan.

Wu-Tang grabs Bill by the hair.

WU-TANG (CONT'D)
We gon' teach you 'bout gettin' familiar with Liberal women!

BILL
But... but I didn't -

WU-TANG
Shut up!

He hits Bill with the laptop again.

OBI-WAN
Come on, boy! We got plans for you...

Pan down. In Obi-Wan's hand is a USB 2.0 Cable fashioned into a noose.

Cheney, who has regained consciousness, sees it, clutches his heart and passes out again.

P.O.V. BILL
As his vision starts to fade Cindy's face looms into view. She is no longer crying.

CINDY
Maybe next time you'll take that ride...

BILL'S P.O.V.
Slides off Cindy's smirking face, as Bill looks at the lawn of the Cheney Home, where a large wooden "OS X " is burning in the night.

FADE TO BLACK

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