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  • The intelligent guide to free & legal music on the Web.
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  • Talking History
  • A weekly broadcast/internet radio program that focuses on all aspects of history.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

The Dissolv-O Variety Hour

[Music swells; audience applauds.]

ANNOUNCER: Coming to you live from the glamorous Alben Barkley Auditorium in Big Bone Lick, Kentucky, it's the "Dissolv-O Variety Hour!" Brought to you by Industrocorp, makers of Dissolv-O and other fine industrial solvents. Yes, Dissolv-O, that miracle solution that can eat through even the most stubborn chemical accretions, yet is gentle on hands. And nine out of ten doctors agree that Dissolv-O's fumes are easier on the lungs than the other leading brands, without that acrid odor than can sear sensitive nasal passages. So for a gentle, mind-freeing high that leaves you mellow, try Dissolv-O today! And now, here's your host, Serge Powers!

HOST: Thank you, thank you. Welcome to the "Dissolv-O Variety Hour." Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, it's my privilege to welcome to our program one of the great comedy teams from the Golden Age of Podcasting, Gordo and Slim!

[Applause]

SLIM (in a gravelly voice): Thanks, Serge. Thank you, folks. It's good to be here.

GORDO (in a childish voice): Yeah, Slim, it's like the sailor said when he was crawling through the desert.

S: What's that?

G: Long time no sea!

S (slaps Gordo): Why, you...

G (Loudly and childishly) WHY YOU SO MEAN TO ME ALLA TIME?!

[Audience screams and laughs, recognizing Gordo's catchphrase]

S (slaps Gordo): Now, come on Gordo, why do you want to insult our audience with a terrible joke like that?

G (sheepishly): I don't wanna insult nobody.

S (slaps him again): Well, then, fatso, give the audience a proper salutation.

G: A what?

S: A salutation! Go on.

G: But I ain't never been in the Army.

S (slaps): No, that's just an idiom.

G: Idiom? How come you wanna call me names just because I couldn't get into the Army?

S: No stupid, an idiom is like a metaphor. You know what a metaphor is, don't you?

G: Lunch, maybe?

S: No, you dope!

G: Well, how should I know what you met 'er for? It's none of _my_ business!

S (slaps): Oh, you ignoramus! Didn't they teach you anything in school? Didn't you learn the "Three R's?"

G: You mean argyle, armadillo, and Arm & Hammer?

S: No, dimbulb, Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic!

G (laughing): Ha, ha!

S: What's so funny?

G (to audience): He thinks Reading starts with an "r!"

S (slaps): You must be some kinda moron!

G: I'll have you know I got into Yale!

S (suspiciously): Yeah? How'd _you_ get into Yale?

G: I was caught yaywalking!

S (slaps): All right, you, settle down! Now, look, if you're so smart, then who was the first President?

G: Lincoln!

S: Abraham Lincoln was the first President of the U.S.A.?

G: No, Lisa Lincoln was the first president of my first grade class! (Sighs) Whatta cutie!

S (slaps): Oh, you bonehead! Now look... there must be some area of knowledge you know something about. How about sports?

G: Oh, goody! I love sports! I'm the best tiddlywinks player in my _whole_ neighborhood!

S (slaps and punches): Be serious! Now you know, these days, ball players have some really odd names -- strange names. Take our home team, for instance.

G: Oh yeah?

S: Yeah. How's on first, Which's on second, and Damifino's on third.

G (breaking character): Uh... come again?

S: I say, How's on first, Which's on second, and Damifino's on third.

G (sotto voce): What are you doing?! That's not how it goes...

S (nervously): Um... ah... I mean, Where's on first... uh... When's on third... I mean, second... I mean... uh...

G (cheerily): Those _are_ strange, Slim! (Sotto voce) What the hell's wrong with you?

S (nervously): I'm sorry, Gordo... I... I...

G (sotto voce): Hit me!

S: Um... ah... what?

G (sotto voce): Hit me, you dumbass!

S (slaps Gordo): Um... you stupid....! Er...

G (sotto voce): Harder! Harder! (Loudly and childishly) WHY YOU SO MEAN TO ME ALLA TIME?!

[Music swells; audience applauds weakly; Gordo & Slim are heard walking offstage]

G: Twenty-five years. Twenty-five freaking years we've been doing this stupid routine! And now, we finally get a chance to make our big comeback, and you freeze like an Eskimo's nuts in a blizzard! I mean, if I hadn't yelled out that idiotic catchphrase...

S (tremulously): Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Gordo...

G (slaps Slim): Chiam yankel! What is it this time? The sauce? Horse? I swear to God, if you're on crank again, I'll --

S: No, no, Gordo, it's just that... my wife... she's so very sick, and I was up all night at the hospital...

G (slaps): So, what, you blow our big chance because you're Florence fricking-Nightingale all of a sudden? So, how much chemo can you buy working the Skank-hole Inn on Highway 9, huh? Answer me that!

S: Oh jeez, Gordo...

G (slaps): I thought you were _professional_, dammit! I mean, Jolson did twelve shows in one weekend hepped up to the oygen on goofballs, and _he_ never missed a beat! Cantor skipped his own daughter's funeral so that he could do his radio show, and you never heard so much as a whimper out of him on air! And when Sophie Tucker knocked 'em dead at the Orpheum, she had such a bad case of the clap that --

S: You're right... you're right... (weeping) I'm... I'm weak, Gordo...

G (slaps): Damn right, you little pansy... You gotta be strong! The audience can smell blood, Slim! They're heartless bastards! If they see a chink in your armor, they'll rip you to shreds! That's why you gotta kill the audience, Slim! Slay 'em! MURDER 'EM! MURDER ALL THE SOULLESS BASTARDS!

S (Dazed): Yes... you're right... murder them...

[Gordo & Slim walk away, their voices fading out. Gordo is still yelling: "I coulda worked with Jackie Vernon! Or Shecky Greene! Norm Crosby begged me to team up with him!" Slim is muttering: "Kill them all. Murder. Slay. Death to them all.")

STAGEHAND #1: What a meltdown. I can't believe that Gordo & Slim used to be so popular on the radio.

STAGEHAND #2: Well, radio was perfect for them. Slim is a _terrible_ ventriloquist.

HOST: Now, it's my honor to present fabulous Hollywood stars Harry Citron and Marla Slattering, who have a very important message to impart to all Americans.

HARRY CITRON: Thank you. In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed -- but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love. They had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. Yes, the biggest, deadliest cuckoo clock the world has yet seen, spreading terror and destruction throughout Europe.

MARLA SLATTERING: That's right, Harry. For centuries, the wily Swiss selfishly maintained their neutrality, awaiting the moment when the civilized world had exhausted itself in conflict. Now they have unleashed their nefarious plan for world domination.

H: Now the United States of America is the only nation that stands between the insidious Swiss and what remains of the free world. Please do what you can to support our fighting men and women. Buy American cheese rather than Swiss. Burn your yodeling CDs. Deposit your illicit funds in Caribbean banks. Replace your Helvetica typefaces with Avant Garde Gothic. Adhere to the teachings of such Christian reformers as Philipp Melancthon or John Wesley instead of Huldreich Zwingli and John Calvin.

M: Only by pulling together can we defeat the Alpine menace. Our freedom is too precious to imperil by turning a blind eye to the dangers that face us. That's why we must be prepared to sacrifice. Our armed forces are laying their lives on the line... the least that we can do is to meekly submit to the authority of our government. Only by the suspension of our basic rights for an indefinite period of time can we ensure our freedoms for future Americans.

H: Precisely, Marla. So buy war bonds. Don't hoard rationed goods. Report any suspicious persons seen in possession of lederhosen, fondue pots, fine chocolates, or handcrafted timepieces. And if questioned by the police, please don't waste their time asking for legal counsel or for a writ of habeas corpus.

M: Uncle Sam wants you... to give 'til it hurts! If we do all we can, then pretty soon... "There'll Be A Hot Time In the Old Town of Berne!"

[Patriotic music swells]

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