(Into the scene bursts FLAMING RANTER, at high decibel level.)

RANTER (loudly, angrily): It’s true: A small percentage of the criminal claque is paying the price. But what about the 99 percent that are getting away Scot-free? And where do they come from? (He breaks into song):


“Scummy, Scummy, Scummy”
(Parody of “Money, Money, Money”)

Scummy of the world he’s found,
a scourge of clowns, the worst around.
Scummy of the world he’s found;
he’s brought many to town:
a Plumpahole of many pounds,
to destroy State and bring it down down.
On knees he’s always going down
to kiss the spot where brown
comes out with a “splat!” sound.
Bummy….

There’s the ’grich who had a bitch on the side
while his wife’s mortal danger
was away from his thoughts as he played.
As she died, he got the itch, so he boned. “Let ’er bleed!”
He was champin’ at the bit, so his bimbo was made.
’nother getting quite a bit;
dipped his wick in his illicit lover,
giving his wife, alone, not a thought.
As he’s railing about sin,
up he’s shacked with a bimbo he’d druther shtup
than what at home he’s got.

Scummy of the world he’s found,
some vermin found, a world of clowns.
Scummy of the world he’s found;
they play at being pure—
To vice/graft/lies/truth inured.
Scummy….

Then he got himself a dolt who is mostly asleep,
barely blinkin’ are his lids, ’cause he’s rarely awake.
Had to shake him from a snooze, couldn’t tweet
while he coaxed him to wake up—
a job that he’s no good at he takes.
Got a bunch of guys who’re not at all nice—nasty, some neo-Nazi,
Who’ve made it clear: They love days of yore.

That is just some of the claque, nasty claque, ghastly claque—
These are some of the worst,—but there’s dozens more…
more scumbags in this world he’s found,
more vermin found, a scourge of clowns.
Scummy of the world he’s found.
There’s more of them around.
Scummy….
Ethics-crippled, ethics-crippled.
Scummy….

Anti-Semite who’s fat and round
nnd ran a site of rank renown…
supplanted by that Mitler clown.
So “great” the scourges ’round.

(RANTER exits, ranting)


TYRO: Well, I guess we know where he stands.

SULLEN: You’d know even if you were deaf.

TYRO: What? Oh wait, the ringing in my ears has stopped.

SULLEN: I’ve got news for you: Your ears are about to be assaulted again