-- ((( TWAAAANNG!! ))) . . . [kreeeeak] [grohhhnn] [whoooomm] [whakkita] [whakkita] [whakkita] [SLAM] . . . (Satellite of Love Desk. Mike is sitting cross- legged on the desk, wearing a bandanna over his hair, square granny-glasses, a tie-dyed shirt and ripped jeans. He's strumming a guitar.) MIKE: (singing) ... One toke over the line, sweet Jesus, one toke over the line... sittin' downtown in a railway station, one toke over the line.... (Crow and Tom Servo pop up on either side in extreme close-up in the lower corners of the screen.) SERVO: (sotto voce) Hi, everyone! Welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Tom Servo, and this is Crow T. Robot. And the human behind us is Mike Nelson. CROW: (s.v.) Right now, he's indulging in a favorite modern pasttime -- reminiscing about something he didn't actually experience. SERVO: (s.v.) In this case, the original Woodstock. MIKE: She's a hohh-ohhnky-tonk woman... CROW and SERVO: (s.v.) Help us! (Red lights flash.) CROW: Oh, look, Jimi Hendrix is calling. SERVO: I never thought I'd be happy to see that light. (Deep 13. Dr. Forrester, looking cranky.) DR. F: WILL you STOP that inFERnal RACKet? I'm TRYing to get some WORK done down here! (S.O.L.) MIKE: (singing) ... 'scuze me while I kiss this guy. CROW: How does he make his voice do that? SERVO: Well, he did have years of stagecraft -- CROW: Not -Mike-. I mean Dr. Forrester. SERVO: I dunno. Maybe a Geekish Gaming Goth has Gotten into his Gopher. (Deep 13.) DR. F: Actually, my little flower children, I've been finding some fascinating items in my E-mail. Let me share one with you. (laughs evilly) (S.O.L. Mike is tied up in his tie-dye and bound with his bandanna, struggling while Crow and Servo gleefully snap his guitar strings with wire cutters.) CROW and SERVO: (singing) The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.... (Lights and sirens.) ALL: AHHH!! WE'VE GOT USENET SI-I-IGN!! . . . [whakkita] [whakkita] [whakkita] [whoooomm] [grohhhnn] [kreeeeak] . . . MIKE: ... Do you know hard it is to -get- guitar strings up here? CROW: Why do you think we snipped 'em all twice? > ======================================================= CROW: Brought to you by NutraSweet. > > Magical Grapefruit of Love ALL: (singing) Carmen Miranda's Ghost is haunting Space Station Three.... > > This is the Magical Grapefruit of Love. SERVO: This is -not- my beautiful house. > It has been bequeathed upon you by someone who thinks > you are really cool. MIKE: But who doesn't actually know you. > This person might be your boyfriend, girlfriend, lover, > pal, homie, Hausfrau, neighbor CROW: Or Tony, down in Cyber-Marketing. > or someone else you don't even know. SERVO: But... I -do- know all those other folks. MIKE: (creepy) You only -thought- you knew them. > This person finds you rather interesting, possibly even > attractive, MIKE: Your E-Mail address is very erotic. > and just generally thinks you're a pretty good excuse to > be alive. CROW: In fact, they claim you as a dependent. > Whether this person actually IS attracted to you is > another question. SERVO: For the police. > This is merely a token of affection for you to wonder at > and appreciate. MIKE: I wonder at who would consider this a token of affection. CROW: I can appreciate that. > The proper response, upon reciept of the Magical > Grapefruit of Love SERVO: Is to give the UPS man $19.95 C.O.D. > is a hug, CROW: I will love it and hug it and squeeze it and pet it and name it George. > or a message of thanks, MIKE: Thank -you-, Grapefruit Man! SERVO: Just doin' my job, ma'am. > if this person is too far away to hug within a week > of receipt. SERVO: You know, if -I- received someone, I'd hug 'em right away, just to see if they're fresh. CROW: I don't know about them, but -you- are. > Basically, the Magical Grapefruit of Love MIKE: Has a wonderful plan for your life. > is a way to say "Hey, you're really damn cool, and > I want you to know that." CROW: I could've told you that in person, or bought you a gift, but I thought insipid New Age E-mail spam would set just the right tone. > Sorry if you were disappointed that there is no actual > citrus fruit contained in this letter. SERVO: I managed to squish half a banana into my floppy drive, but it must have been incompatible with Z-modem or something. > Unfortunately, at the time of writing, that miracle > of science that allows grapefruit to travel through > telephone lines had not been perfected. MIKE: Ohh, the jokes that leap to mind. CROW: None of which we can say in a family post. SERVO: Ahh, you guys aren't just working hard enough. See, I'm thinking AT&T will combine with Kellogg's to create Fruit 'n' Fibre Optics. MIKE: D'ohh! > But be consoled by the fact that someone thinks you're > really a rockin' guy/gal, CROW: If you think we're so cool, why don't you even know what -gender- we are? MIKE: Perhaps this post was intended for Wesley Snipes and Patrick Swayze. > and would most likely help you out if you had a flat > tire somewhere in the same state MIKE: Excuse me! I've got a blowout. Are you the guy who E-mailed me a magic grapefruit? > (or within a one or two hour radius, depending on > the size of your state). SERVO: The Magic Grapefruit Road Crew, on patrol. > > The sender of the Magical Grapefruit of Love only > asks one thing of you-- CROW: A herring! > (besides the aforementioned hug) CROW: ... Oh. > that you bequeath this Grapefruit of Love on someone > else. SERVO: -gasp--wheeze- And to my nephew, I leave this intangible, text-based Magic Grapefruit of Love. CROW: I'm having you declared legally incompetent, do you hear, INCOMPETENT! > The Magical Grapefruit of Love grows in power as it > is shared, MIKE: Oh, great. Now you have to keep your E-mail in the fridge or it spoils. > and someday you may receive this Magical Citrus Entity > again. SERVO: Oh, so now it's an entity? CROW: Colossus: The Grapefruit Project. > Send it on. CROW: I'd like to buy a noun, Pat? > Remember the elation you felt the first time you > received it? MIKE: Dear God, I -love- wasted bandwidth. > If you send it on, you may feel this again. SERVO: This is getting -really- weird. > This is not a chain letter. MIKE: This is not my beautiful wife. > Nothing bad will happen to you if you don't send > it on, SERVO: This guy/gal really knows how to motivate. > but think of the bright spot it might put in the > day of someone you think is extra marvy. MIKE: Extra MARVY? CROW: Sounds like an item at Chuck E. Cheeze's. > > =================================================== SERVO: Mathematics. Think about it, won't you? . . . [kreeeeak] [grohhhnn] [whoooomm] [whakkita] [whakkita] [whakkita] [SLAM] . . . (Satellite of Love Desk.) MIKE: Well. What is the lesson we can learn from this? CROW: You mean -besides- "Some people spend too much time on the Usenet"? SERVO: Actually, I'm reminded of the episode of Gilligan's Island when they didn't have any oranges. CROW: Oh, and they were all going to die of scurvy? SERVO: Well, not really, because there were eight zillion lemons and grapefruits and other citrus fruits. CROW: Yeah, and they put their lives in the hands of the single person likeliest to seal their fates -- CROW and SERVO: THE PROFESSOR!! MIKE: Yeah, well, guys, this is not exactly news. CROW: ... It's not? MIKE: Of course not. It's been well established for over twenty-five years that Roy Hinkley actually dominated and terrorized the other six castaways, taking cruel liberties with poor Mary Ann and playing her off of the sultry, manipulative, but basically good-hearted Ginger. SERVO: This is incredible. MIKE: No, it's not. They built huts to typhoon- and volcano-resistance specifications, they had pedal-powered vehicles, windmills, and invisible ovens capable of turning out perfect cocoanut creme pies... advanced engineering that only the Professor could have known. CROW: Well, Mrs. Howell's definitely out. MIKE: But only -once- did they ever make a real effort to fix the Minnow, and only -once- did they ever build a raft! SERVO: (gasp) You mean -- MIKE: You already reached the same conclusion, my friend! The Professor didn't -want- to be rescued! CROW: No! MIKE: It all makes sense. The specific episode you mentioned shows that the Professor is keeping them in the dark. Do you mean to tell me that he never saw a single lime on the island? SERVO: Well, then, actually, that shows what jerks the rest of the castaways were. I mean, none of 'em knew that there was Vitamin C in pretty much -any- citrus fruit. Y'ask me, it's pretty much proof that they deserved to be brainless proles. CROW: Or given some virtual grapefruit with virtual vitamins, which would bring them virtually to Death's Door! MIKE: What do you think, sir? (Deep 13. Dr. F is working at a table, when a grapefruit rolls across it and bumps his hand. He picks it up and looks at it.) DR. F: Oh... no. (Off-stage, the doo-wop theme from the PBS game show "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?" begins.) ROCKAPELLA: Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo-dn-doo-POW! (At the "POW", the big door at the back begins to open. Through it comes the group Rockapella, jamming in a conga line.) ROCKAPELLA: She's a Latin entertainer, Come from somewhere out in Spain-a, And her neck she'd always sprain-a, From those backets on her head. Now she does a ghostly rhumba Up on Space Station Number Three -- Where on the ship is Carmen Miranda? (A ghostly glowing Carmen dances through the door, taking her place at the head of the line.) ROCKAPELLA: Straight through Customs she can hurdle, With a grapefruit in her girdle, And her cocoanut milk won't curdle 'Cause it's fresh from the undead. She's wild and she's curvy, And she'll save the crew from scurvy, Tell me -- Where on the ship is Carmen Miranda? Why is she a spectre? Could no one protect her From Hannibal Lecter, Mike Tyson, or what? (They grab a startled Dr. F into their conga line.) Well, we don't know why we got her, Coulda been Horse Tamer's Daughter, Or a Lamb gone to the Slaughter, Or a -- Death Sheep From Hell. But she's wild and she's pleasin', And I want more of her fresh squeezin', Tell me -- Where on the ship is Carmen Miranda? Where on the ship is Carmen Miranda? (The conga line heads out the big door. Dr. F looks back over his shoulder.) DR. F: Don't laugh, Nelson! You're next! (And he tosses his grapefruit on the button.) ROCKAPELLA: Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo, doo-dn-do-doot, Doot-doo-dn-doo- | \ | / \ | / ---( )--- [pwhohhhffhh] / | \ / | \ |
Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.
All shtick and lyrics © 1996 by Tom Smith. All rights reserved.
Many thanks to email@example.com (Dan Siemens) for sharing his pain.
> Unfortunately, at the time of writing, that miracle > of science that allows grapefruit to travel through > telephone lines had not been perfected.