The Radical Splenectomy Crock

 

“On the seventh day, it was finished. On the eighth day they rested, because they were 16% slower than G-d”

 

 

Drainus Personae

 

Chauncy Lay,Chancellor..................................................            Leper Calhoun

 

Dan Gladdameecha, Rush Chairman.............................            James M. Scanlan

 

Sy Styrling, Chief TEPCo Scientist..................................            Bradley James C.F. Rhodes

 

''Bob'' Doerk, The Slowest TEP........................................            Varmint Jorgensen

 

Ked Tennedy, Famous Senatah.......................................            Schmooz Lantz

 

Pillory Nottingham Hinton, President...........................            Amie Strong

 

Julie West, Judd Comm Rep............................................            Elizabeth Wilmer

 

L-Ren Hubbard, a conspirator from Caltech.................            Crack Geising

 

H.J. Stimpson, another conspirator from Caltech.........            Andrew Sudbury 22nd

 

Mike Frosh, Freshman extraordinaire............................            Leslie Melcer

 

Freshmen 1.........................................................................            Cool Freshman #1

                                    (Clay Somebody)

 

Freshmen 2.........................................................................            Cool Freshman #2

                                    (Omri Schwartz)

 

Miscellaneous Solo Work            Xemu Fermier

 

 

Crock ‘93 was written by:

Jamie, Unit 5, Leper, Schmooz, Varmint, Crack, Leslie Melcer, Bradley James C.F. Rhodes, Crusher Ernst (via InterTEPnet), Ellen Spertus, Varmint and Elizabeth Wilmer.

 

an AlumXi Production. “AlumXi—The New Voice in Old Jokes”

© 1993 by Tau Epsilon Phi, Xi Chapter.

 

The Crock Opera is a Constitutionally Protected Parody

(see Cambell v. Acuff-Rose, 62 U.S.L.W. 4169 (1994)).

 

Permission is hereby granted to the reader to make copies this document and to borrow pieces of material from it, provided that acknowledgment of the source is given. 

 

This is the final “as performed” version of the 1993 Crock Opera, which includes last minute changes to the script. Several things are still missing, including “I’m Not Funny,” a song which Jamie wrote and performed for the audience as a warm-up, and the many ad-libs during the performance which our speech-to-text software was unable to parse.

Leper

 3 June 94

 

 

 

 

 

ACT ZERO: Honig Hawks a Hairball

 

 

Scene 0.            Couple of white guys sittin’ around talkin’.

(Leper, Schmooz, Crack, Jamie)

 

Leper:            Well, here we are, Saturday night before rush and we still haven't started writing the Crock.

 

Schmooz:            That's OK, this year we have high technology to improve our crock writing productivity. Now we can write twice much in half the time.

 

Crack:            <aside> But it still won't be funny.

 

Jamie:            Funny? I thought it was just supposed to be done!

                       

Schmooz:            This year, with Crock NT™ and object oriented joke creation, the Crock really will write itself!  We just put in one joke and Crock NT™ will fill in the rest.           

 

Leper:            Now all we need is a good joke.

 

Jamie:             I’ve got one! What do you get when you feed Barney poprocks and coke?

 

ALL:            <stupid looks>

 

Jamie:             Barney Rubble

 

Leper:            Maybe we should stick to vodka and Milk of Magnesia.

 

Schmooz:            For Crock NT™ to work, we'll need a Cray supercomputer, 22 gigabytes of virtual bananas, and an audience with real time humor recognition.

 

Leper:            Let’s just write it ourselves. After all, some things will always be done better by hand.

 

Jamie:            Actually, I've been itching to try out this new Crock-nological wonder created by Anheiser-Honig's advertising genii...Crock-Lite™. I already processed last year's Crock using this revolutionary technology, which extracts only the material which is funny—want to hear it?

 

Schmooz:            Sure.

 

Jamie:            Want to hear it again?

 

Leper:            Look; we still need a NEW JOKE. Audiences of today want a lighter, sweeter kind of humor.

 

Crack:             NEW JOKE? What if some people like OLD JOKE better?

 

Leper:             We'll wait two acts for the publicity to build and then rerelease it as JOKE CLASSIC.

 

Crack:            We'll never get the crock written at this rate. It’s hopeless.

 

Jamie:             Don’t despair - just remember the rules of Crock writing.

                       

                        1. If it’s not funny repeat it until it is.

 

                        (repeat line if they do not laugh )

 

                        2. If it is funny, repeat it until it isn’t.

 

                        ( repeat line if they laugh )

 

Crack:            Does that really work?

 

Jamie:            No, but its tradition.

 

Leper:            Isn’t there a song about that?

 

Jamie:            Exactly.

 

Schmooz:            We could write a song about appointees of the Clinton Administration

 

All:            (sing) Launie Guinier at old TEPhi...

 

Leper:            No, let’s drop that, it’s too controversial.

 

Crack:            What will we sing about, then?

 

Leper:             Our favorite subject:

 

All:            Us!

 

Crock Ng 1993

(to the tune of Ana Ng)

 

                        Writing puns with a pen perpendicular,

                        To a sheet on a pad drinking Grape Soder,

                        Juxtaposing our words at random,

                        Wrote down some songs but we can't understand them.

 

                        Our apartment is full of half drunk beers,

                        We've been using the same old jokes for years,

                        Thought of a plot, but we caught amnesia

                        Downed a few shots of Milk of Magnesia!

 

                        This year's Crock is about to begin

                        And we still haven't thought of a plot,

                        Or a pun, or a song for singing.

                        Listen Freshmen, hear our song,

                        It's a song you would think, we would sing,

                        If we'd had a crock for you.

 

                        Had a plot with an aging Fred Astaire,

                        Boris Yeltsin and Elvis with no hair,

                        They met up with Ms. Rodham-Clinton,

                        Set up a love shack next to the Simpson's.

 

                        We worked hard and created a brand new Crock,

                        All the songs were composed by J.S. Bach,

                        We got a call from Vaclev Havel,

                        Told him the plot and he said it was awful.

 

                        This year's Crock is about to begin

                        And we still haven't thought of a plot,

                        Or a pun, or a song for singing.

                        Listen Freshmen, hear our song,

                        It's a song you would think, we would sing,

                        If we'd had a crock for you.

 

                        As I was tooling it came to me like a can of spam,

                        TEP National says, "Let's take the middleman out of it."

 

                        So we knew on the spot that we had a plot,

                        Better than the last Malden crock or not,

                        And we pun like a broken record,

                        We can still pun like a broken record,

                        We can still pun until you go away,

                        And the truth is, you wouldn’t laugh anyway.

 

                        This year's Crock is about to begin

                        And we just got a plot

                        And a joke, and an out-of-tune song for singing.

                        Listen Freshmen, hear our song,

                        It's the song we will sing, cause we can't

                        write a better one for you...

 

 

ACT  I: Friday, Friday, Friday!

 

Scene 1.             TEP,  Friday night of Rush Week

(Chauncy, Dan, “Bob”, Rodham Buffington Villars Hinton, Sy, Frosh1, Frosh2, H. Ren H., H.J. Stimpson)

 

Chauncy:            Hey, as a project for my archeological accounting class I've just balanced the books all the way back to 1972, and discovered that we actually have enough money for Rush this year.

 

Dan:            I guess that means I can cancel my late night TV infomercial selling Fnordic-Track home fitness conspiracy machines.

 

Chauncy:            Speaking of info-mercials, I hear President Clinton is going to be giving his address in a few minutes.

 

“Bob”:            What, did he move?

 

(TV starts playing)

 

Pillory:            Tonight I am here to talk about change, as in, can you spare some? Given the gross budget deficits created during the last 12 years of mismanagement by a morally bankrupt administration and an irresponsible, check kiting, stamp stealing,  pork barreling Congress, we have no option but to pursue a program of intelligent budget cuts with modest revenue enhancements.

 

“Bob”:            Whaddid she say?

 

All:            Higher taxes.

 

Pillory:            We understand the needs, however, of middle class voters, er...Americans, and we want to distribute the load as fairly as possible. With our new revenue enhancement plan, only a minute fraction of Americans will see a real dollar increase in their taxes.  In fact, 90% of the new revenue will be borne by one small, but unreasonably powerful group...

 

Dan:            Sock it to them!

 

Pillory:            ...which has long enjoyed a free ride at our expense. That free-loading privileged group is comprised of  the members of a major technical institution in the northeastern United States residing on Boston’s Champs Elysée in residential living groups whose names begin with Tau.

 

Chauncy:            wait a minute...

 

Pillory:            This group will bear 90% of the $246.7 billion yearly tax increase that we have retroactively applied back to 1985.

 

Dan:            Wait, that does violence to my financial intuition.

 

(pause for audience to be dumb)

 

Pillory:            No, he most certainly did knot. Thank you and good night.

 

Sy:            Wow, they just chainged our tacks bracket - we really got screwed

 

Dan:            I guess the clinchon health plan cotter pinched for funds.

 

Chauncy:            Ah, skewer,  we’re going to be so nailed that we’ll knot even be able to afford Weldch’s grape solder.

 

Dan:            Sew, I advise you to drink Splice, instead.

 

“Bob”:            Don’t throw in the dowel.

 

Chauncy:            We’ll have to tape mastic measures! Button the second thought, maybe velcro into business.... it will be a snap.

 

Sy:            Knot me, I don’t want to sta-pled, I want to rivet up, start a rock bond-o something.

 

Dan:            Get off your hasp, aren’t you past your band-age?  You can’t just zipper-round having fun.

 

Chauncy:            You’re right, we can’t duct tapeing responsibility forever.  We have to glue something—lace go knit the Big Book O’ Plans.

 

Sy:            It’s lost!  I did hook, and eye  clamp bind it anywhere!

 

Dan:            I can’t take any mortise; and tenon more puns and my knees will buckle.

 

Chauncy:            Wire we being subjected to a $222 Billion Retroactive Buttream™? With that kind of tax liability, we'll never be able to pay our tuition.

 

(Responsus Inevitiblus)

 

Dan:            No.  Well, we could start our own HMO, and get a couple of our friends to join...

 

“Bob”:            ...And they tell two friends...

 

Chauncy & Sy:...And they tell two friends...

 

All:            ...And they tell two friends...

 

“Bob”:            A geometrically progressive health plan!

 

(Groans)

 

Chauncy:            Look. We set up the health plan so that it requires gobs of money from gullible venture capitalists, scams all of the insurance companies, and shows a huge loss—on paper—so that we don’t pay any income taxes to the Feds.

 

“Bob”:            That's not very nice.

 

Sy:            So?  What’s your point?

 

Chauncy:            To be sure that we lose money, the HMO could only offer completely obscure and useless medical procedures.

 

“Bob”:            Like redundant eyeball removal?

 

Sy:            Not rare enough. After all, it happened to my uncle.

 

Chauncy:            We’ll specialize in...Radical Splenectomies! Nobody will join, we'll lose money hand over fist, and we'll get all the gauze we can eat!

 

“Bob”:            Not to mention the free rubber gloves.

 

Dan:            But we don't know anything about health care.

 

Chauncy:            In fact, we don't know much at all.

 

Don't Know Much

(to the tune of “Don’t Know Much”)

 

ALL:            Don't know much about history

                        Don't know much Biology

                        Don't know much about science books

                        Don't know much about the French I took

 

Chauncy:            Don't know much about Thermodynamics

Dan:            Don't know much about Fluid Mechanics

“Bob”:            Don't know much about Crystallography

Sy:            Don't know much about Nuclear Radiography

                       

Chauncy:            Don't know much about Paleogynecology

Dan:            Don't know much about Etruscan mythology

“Bob”:            Don't know much about nonlinear n-dimensional differential Topology

Sy:            Don't know much about post-Skinnerian Sociopathoneuropsychology           

                       

Chauncy:            Don't know much about pulsed laser inertially confined fusion microwave ovens

Dan:            Don't know much about retroviral diptherial toxin-carrying probabalistic systems analysis

Sy:            Don't know much about a sociopolitical dialectical approach to splat-cooled polymorphous bio-metallic pseudo-ceramic neo-erogenous non-Euclidean anarcho-syndicalistic cryogenic gestalt-ridden user-friendly fluffy white rodents.

“Bob”:            Don't know much about Math

 

Chauncy:            We can do this. After all, we're experts at losing money. But what will we call this new group?

 

Dan:            How about “Teps with Drugs?”

 

“Bob”:            Nah, nah, nah.  “Teps with KNIVES.”

 

Chauncy:             (Sarcastically) We’ll have to beat them off with sticks.

 

Dan:            Well, let’s see—when they get their bills, our patients will turn purple from apoplexy.

 

Chauncy:            That’s the plan.

 

Sy:            So that’s what we’ll call it—Planned Purplehood! And we'll have as a slogan (pulling our a T-shirt or sign) “Keep your laws off my spleen.”

 

 

Health Plan at Old T-E-Phi

(to the tune of Beer, Beer)

 

All:            Health Plan at old T-E-Phi

                        We've got the leeches to suck you dry

                        Patients who come in here ill,

                        get twice as sick while paying the bill

                        We never stumble we never fail.

                        But if we do, we won't go to jail

                        While three-quarters of us lie

                        by billing our golfing time.

 

Xemu:            If there's health fraud anywhere (anywhere!)

                        You'll be sure that TEPs are there

                        If there is a chance for extra surgery

                        Some brothers always there will be

 

All:             While the freshman falsify claims to send to Medicare.

 

Dan:            Here's a boil on the arm

                        lance it, lance it

                        ten bucks for the needle and charge extra for the pus

 

All:            While you're gasping your last breath we're selling your limbs for glue.

 

Chauncy:            Our plan is like the Mississippi

                        They say its true

                        Cause long before the patient's better

                        Our banks are flooded too.           

 

All:            While we're setting broken bones with c-clamps and Elmer’s Glue.

 

Sy:            Liquor, the anesthetic brew

                        Liquor, it's antiseptic too

                        Liquor, there goes your ticker

                        There’s no more heartbeat, down six feet, with you

 

All:            Outpatients scream and run down the hall

                        They're dying just to get out at all

                        While three quarters of us all

                        Are sued by the AMA.

 

Dan:            Isn't that the doorbell?

 

(Knock at the door)

 

Sy:            No, that’s what we scientists like to call knocking.

 

(Doorbell rings)

 

Sy:            That, however, is commonly known as a doorbell.

 

“Bob”:            Well, put it on the door.

 

(Doorbell rings)

 

Dan:            And now there's a knock at the door!

 

Sy:            No. Follow the script. First there was a knock, the then doorbell.

 

“Bob”:            Isn’t someone going to let the freshmen in?

 

(nobody moves)

 

“Bob”:            I hear knocking...

 

Sy:            A higher octane fuel could solve that problem.

 

Chauncy:            By Honig's balls, the freshmen are coming!

 

“Bob”:            No, they're just breathing hard.  (Heh-huh heh-huh)

 

(Enter the freshman, bedraggled.)

 

Frosh1:            There's been a horrible accident! All of the freshman are dead!

 

Frosh2:            Well, most of the freshman are dead...

 

(brothers are sarcastic)

 

Dan:            Some of the freshman are dead

 

Chauncy:            One of the freshman is dead

 

Sy:            Ok, one of the freshman felt a bit of a chill coming on.

 

Frosh1:            No, really! All of the freshman are dead, except for us!

 

Dan:            Zenana! What happened?

 

Chauncy:            And how did you escape??

 

Frosh1:            Well, we got on Safe Ride last Tuesday and asked for a ride across the River to TEP. After dropping two graduate students off at the new dorm in Bismarck, North Dakota and completing a circuit of the North-West Free World, we returned to Killian Court....

 

Frosh2:            ...And discovered the entire freshman class, dead on the ground at the freshman picnic. so we jumped back on Safe-Ride and came over to TEP, because we heard you have an innovative health care system.

 

Dan:            Well, yes, that and zee amazing foam room. Not to mention copious amounts of Grape Soder™.

 

Chauncy:            Did you see anything suspicious?

 

(Two caltech dweebs come in, unannounced)

 

Frosh1:            Well, those two suspicious characters did get on Safe-Ride after the picnic!

 

Caltechs:            Don't mind us—we're here to see Dave Root!^[1]

 

TEPs:            Ok.

 

Chauncy:            We never gave these two freshman a real welcome...with SONG!

 

BANANAS

(To the tune of Bonanza)

                       

All:            Welcome to TEP where we like to schlep Grape Soder^[2]

                        Welcome to TEP it's frosty and wet and it's caffeine-free

 

Solos:            What's your name?  Where ya from?  What'd ya like to be?           

 

All:            Welcome to TEP where the floors are swept BiMonthly

                        Welcome to TEP where the Crock's ineptly rhymed

 

 

Dan:            You know, I've lived here for three years and I've never even met Monthly.

 

Sy:            That's because he moved out six years ago.

 

Frosh1:            (kicks at something on the floor)  Obviously.

 

Chauncy:            Hi, I'm Chauncy Lay, damn glad to meet you. Have a Grape Soder™.

 

Dan:            Welcome to TEP.  I’m Dan Gladdameecha, damn glad to meet you.  Have a Grape Soder™.  What's your name-where are you from-what's you major.  (sadly) You know, with all of the freshman dead...

 

Frosh2:            Except for two!

 

Dan:            ...except for two, it somehow puts a damper on this nominally festive weekend. Plus we'll have massive amounts of leftovers at the Steak-um and Eggo Breakfast of Chumps tomorrow.

 

Frosh1:            Don't feel so bad—after all, you have 100% of the freshman class at TEP tonight. And it could always be much worse.

 

It Could Be Much Worse

(to the tune of ‘It’s all for the Best’ in Godspell)

 

when you feel dumb

and know you can't pass

your brain's gone numb

you've dropped your last class

your prof's berating, stating

there's no chance of graduating

physics you're cramming and

Newton your damning and

MIT's ramming your ass

your sex life ain't great

at best it is calm

your last hot date

was with your right palm

well don't forget that

though you think your

life's under a curse

Yes!  It could be much worse...

 

you could be bit by rabid fleas

lopped off at the knees

get a gross disease in your tummy

bumped upside the head

jumped on ‘till you’re dead

shot all full of lead by a dean

eat worms until you're sick

turtle-wax your dick

have a seat & stick where it's gummy

get slapped by a haddock

and stabbed through the spleen

you could have bunions on your feet

warts upon your seat

be the G.M. fleet crash-test dummy

get hit by a tree

get spenectomied

go and take a pee with Chuck Vest

get reamed by your landlord

and hung with a lamp cord

though terse, it could be much worse...

 

(both together)

Yes!  It could be much --

get carted off inside a hearse

Yes!  It could be much --

have to sing this unrehearsed

Yes!  It could be much --

there could be another verse!

Yes!  It could be much worse!

 

(Oversize mosquitohung from a stick.  Irritating mosquito buzzes around the Teps. They all follow it, first to the left, than to the right, than to “Bob”'s arm. He slaps it.)

 

“Bob”:            Damn mosquitoes.

 

(start to scrape it off, but is stopped by the other brothers)

 

Sy:            Wait a minute! Don't eat that! That mosquito could very well have just emerged from a gluttonous feast of freshman blood at Killian Court!

 

Chauncy:            So?

 

Sy:            Using Cuisinart/Ginsu DNA splicing and dicing technology, my HP-22 calculator, and last month’s issue of Popular Eugenics magazine, we can extract the genetic code of the deceased freshmen and bring them back to life!

 

Dan:            Cool! Rush week will be saved! I'll be a hero to all of my JuddCom reps!

 

Chauncy:            Thoroughly! We can open a theme park and make major bucks selling "TEP-Ur-Assic Park" T-Shirts!

 

“Bob”:            And somebody will finally scrape this dead bug off my arm.

 

Sy:            I'll need some help with this, but let me warn you—this could take weeks of arduous labor, cost millions of dollars, and smell terrible.

 

Frosh2:            Sounds like MIT!

 

Chauncy

& Dan:            Definite bid material!

 

Frosh1:            Wait a minute! Did you say this involved labor? Do the Teamsters know about this? Do you have union cards?

 

(Teps look dismayed)

 

Frosh2:            (pulls out stack of union cards)  Yea. Long Island Teamsters’ Union cards for everybody. My brother has connections.

 

Sy:            Excellent! Now, if I can only think of a way to make up the lost genetic information...

 

Tephemian Rhapsody, 1993

(to the second half of Bohemian Rhapsody, by Queen)

 

Sy:            We'll grow an embryonic tepster in a dish

chorus:            Incubate! Incubate!  Grow a TEP invitro             

 

all:            Little Protoplasm - Bring it to orgasm Now!

 

Sy:            My Creation!

chorus:            Your Creation!

Sy:            My Creation!

chorus:            Your Creation!

 

Sy:            My Creation! Give it Life!!!

 

all:            Give it Li - i - ife

 

Sy:            I am a scientist, I'll cuisinart the DNA

chorus:            You are a mad man, your plans will surely go astray

chorus:            The freshmen are dead, just leave them that way!

 

Sy:            Eye of Newt, Spleen of Dog

Sy:            Plus some DNA of Frog

 

chorus:            You Fool!  You're Mad!  This plan will never work!

Sy:            It will work!

 

chorus:            It will never work!

Sy:            It will work!

 

chorus:            It will never work!

Sy:            It will work-erk-erk-erk!

chorus:            No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

 

 

Sy:            Hair of Honig!  Hair of Honig!

Sy:            Just add that and it will work!

all:            The Embryo will soon become a perfect TEP

all:            A TEP

all:            A TEP!!!!

 

—Gratuitous Head Banging Scene—

(Headbanging continues, gets worse & more extravagant & dangerous & silly)

 

all            Yes I know we can rebuild the whole freshman class

all            With our untested D-N-A splicing on task

all            Oh baby, my head's all banged out baby

all            Just gotta get out, just gotta get out of this scene

 

(Exeunt Omnibus cum headbangus ridiculous)

 

ACT II: It keeps going, and going, and going....^[3]

 

Scene 1: In the TEP Lab.

(Sy, Chauncy, “Bob” ,Dan)

 

Sy:            We’ve got a mosquito that sucked the blood of the freshman—now we just need to extract the DNA and we can make clones from it.

 

“Bob” :            Don’t we need a lice-ence to clone in this state?

 

Sy:            They won’t bug us; the ticknology is unregulated and will bee tle next year.

 

Chauncy:            Still, we must bee awflea careful.  Weevil get in mammoth trouble if we louse this up like Katydid.

 

Dan:            Are those Caltechies still trying to sqworm in here and spi? Derision should be heap upon them, or we mite get a smidge disenchanted.

 

Sy:            Man, tis is gonna be hard to approach. I’ll need a piece of liver; someone insect the phone book and locust-up a butcher.

 

Chauncy:            I got a copy of the foië gras shopper^[4] last term—mite it solve your problem?

 

Sy:            Gnat’ll work. And we can put it in this; it’s fusty, but it won’t crick—it’s a bouncer.

 

Dan:            That’s terriflying! Won’t they get sick?

 

Sy:            Ada bit of bleach and wasp it out.

 

Chauncy:            I think this is aphiding place to end.

 

(Sy squeezes the bug, filling the bouncer about half way with blood)

 

Sy:            Well, that’s about all the blood we’ll get from that guy. Are you sure there aren’t any more mosquitoes around?

 

Chauncy:            Ever the since the Great Back Bay Swamp was filled in and replaced with condominiums, swarms of bloodsucking mosquitoes have been replaced by hordes of cappuccino sipping yuppies.

 

“Bob”:            What's the difference?

 

Chauncy:            The yuppies carry cellular phones.

 

Sy:            Hey. Pay attention. This is all the material we have to start with.  “Bob” , guard this bouncer with your life—think of it as the last Grape Söder™ in the normal matter universe.

 

(Sy and Chauncy move to right stage)

 

“Bob”:            The last Grape Söder™in the whole universe?

 

(“Bob”  drinks the Grape Söder™)

 

“Bob”:            Yuck! And to think I could have had a V-8!!

 

(exuent “Bob” )

 

Chauncy:            What are those two conspirators from Caltech up to now? They didn't really think we'd be fooled by a line stolen from an old pledge skit, did they?

 

Dan:             Last I saw they were up on the roof. Don’t worry—they’ll never find the secret entrance to the TEPCo International DNA Research Lab.

 

Sy:            Heck, I  have trouble finding the entrance among all the fust behind the toilet in the fifth back, and I know it’s there.

 

(exeunt)

 

Scene 2:

(On the Roof of TEP)

(Ren, Stimpson, Schmooz as announcer)

 

Stimpson:            Gosh, I can see over an eighth of a mile, the building isn’t shaking, there’re no mud slides, fires or riots - this place is paradise!

 

Ren:            Be quiet and listen as I recap our plan to slam the TEPs by dumping deadly Potassium Cyanide into their experimental apparatus, thus fatally derailing their attempt to rebuild the freshman class with Cuisinart DNA technology.

 

Schmooz:            This quick Plot McNugget™ has been brought to you by USA Today—Less News and More Of It.

(exeunt Schmooz)

 

Stimpson:            Hold on, dude -- you never said anything about using Potassium Cyanide!  That stuff depletes the Ozone layer!^[5]

 

Ren:            So what?

 

Stimpson:            Well, it’s not right!  I’ll only kill with 100% natural, biodegradable environmentally-friendly lead-free safety-tested poisons.

 

Ren:            Safety-tested poisons?!?

 

Stimpson:            Sorry, but the environment is important to me.

 

Ren:            OK, fine.  As long as we’re discriminating in our use of it...

 

Stimpson:            Discriminating?  I find your bigotry offensive!  Either we kill indiscriminately or we don’t kill at all!  It’s not nice.

 

Ren:            Nice?!?  We’re bloodthirsty killers for God’s sake!

 

Stimpson:            That’s beside the point.

 

Ren:            OK, fine.  How about if we burn them.

 

Stimpson:            Emission^[6] of monoxides

 

Ren:            Fry them with a jolt of electricity?

 

Stimpson:            Waste of our valuable energies.

 

Ren:            Feed them to rabid dogs?!?

 

Stimpson:            Cruelty to animals.

 

Ren:            That does it!  We are going to poison the embryos with Potassium Cyanide, burn them, yell racist epithets in their general direction, and make crude comments about their mothers.   Then I think I’ll saunter out and thwack cute little baby otters over the head with bowling balls, and throw them in the reservoir!  Then I’ll finally be able to relax.

 

Stimpson:            Don’t you know relaxation produces sloth in society, creating...

 

(Ren strangles Stimpson...)

 

 

Ren:            OK, Listen Now:

                        The way is barred while the guard's in the yard.

                        So we sneak by the geek while he's taking a leak.

                        A push on the tush sends him into the bush.

                        Done with this chore we roar in the door

                        with the plenum of venom packed in our denim.

                        Then we enter the lab with the bag full of skag,

                        Remove the retainer from the genetic container,

                        And add our pollution to the enzyme solution.

                        The plan is quite shrewd, the TEPs will be screwed

 

Stimpson:            And how will you make our escape take shape?

 

Ren:            The sheik from Mozambique has parked the car with the star on the grassy knoll.

 

Stimpson:            The Greek from Martinique harked the tsar's gar in his brassy bowl?

 

Ren:            NO! Id-i-ot! Listen carefully: The sheik from Mozambique...

 

Stimpson:            embarked from Dakar with a bizarre guitar and the waxy scroll?

 

Ren:            You Bloated Sack of Protoplasm!!!  Just do what I do!! Shut up or I'll ram a massy pole up your assy hole!

 

(exeunt)

 

 

Scene II.

(Start with Sy, later Caltech weenies,  Narrator)

 

Sy:            (mixing gnasty stuff in 3 bouncers)  Let’s see. sugar, hot water, boysenberry jello powder, Freshmen DNA...Finished!  Now I just have to let the mixture set. I’m holding in my hand the future of TEP, of MIT, OF THE  ENTIRE WORLD!  I think I’ll leave it unattended while I take a whiz.

 

(puts Bouncers down, exit)

(enter CalTech weenies)

 

Ren:            Wow. Getting into the lab through the secret door in the 5th back toilet sure was a tight squeeze.

 

Stimpson:            Yeah, I had to flush three times to get through...

 

Ren:            Now all we have to do is poison the in vitro-fertilized-DNA before that dumb TEP comes back.

 

(about to pour poison into Bouncers; action freezes)

 

Narr:            We’ve replaced the fine Potassium Cyanide normally used in the laboratory with Grape Soder™ crystals. Will these discriminating saboteurs notice the difference?

 

(swaps the can of poison with Grape Soder)

(caltech weenies slink offstage)

 

Scene III: TEP Lab

(Sy, Dan, Chauncy, “Bob”, Mike, Julie West)

(Bouncer1voice, Bouncer2voice, Bouncer3voice)

 

Sy:            I've made some progress on the cloning. I've got it down to three techniques (pulls out three bouncers, hold s up one ) This one was cultured on the right side of the microwave. (puts it down audience right)

 

                        (Holds  out second bouncer)

                        This one was cultured on the left side of the microwave.

                        (puts it down audience left)

 

Dan:            What about that one?

 

Sy:            That one was in the microwave!

                        (moves it between other two bouncers)

 

Chauncy:            What's the difference?

 

Sy:            Beats me. Why don't you ask.

 

(Sy holds a microphone up to the bouncers, Right)

 

Dan:            Umm. Hi. Welcome to TEP. What do you think of Rush?

 

Bouncer1voice:  Rush Limbaugh?! He's great! Did you hear today's radio address calling for forced segregation of godless nerds and geeks from the rest of America's morally upright citizenry?

 

Chauncy:            Rush Limbaugh!? Fuck him!

 

Dan:            We can't!

 

Chauncy:            Why not?

 

Dan:            Because that would be a Rush violation!

 

Chauncy:            Too far right. Dump it down the toilet or something.

 

Dan:            Naw. It's not worth the eight gallons.

 

(Hands it to “Bob” , who drinks it.)

 

“Bob” :            Burp.

 

Sy:            Next...

 

(Sy holds a microphone up to the bouncers, Left)

Dan:            So, have you ever considered joining a social fraternity?

 

Bouncer2voice:  What, that evil bastion of misogynistic homophobic drunken prejudiced culturally-flaccid testosterone-injected brains-in-their-pecs beer-guzzling vomit-spewing fascist republican corporate wrong-thinking elitist seal-beating pig-felching no-bad-mouthing anti-disestablishmentarian bigotry?

 

Chauncy:            Too far left.

(Gives it to “Bob” , who drinks it)

 

“Bob” :            Burp.

 

Sy:             Aww, I kinda liked him...

 

Chauncy:             Communist!^[7]

 

 

P.C. at old T E Phi

(the tune of “Beer Beer”)

 

All:            P.C. at old T-E-Phi

                  Don't buy from firms with ethics awry

                  Don't drink Folger's, don't drink Coke

                  Boy-cott McDonald's, they're slimy folk

 

                  We don't wear fur or shop in the mall

                  Don’t deplete ozone with aerosol

                  While three quarters of us all

                  Recycle our rubbers too.

 

Solo:         If there's protest anywhere (anywhere!)

                  You'll be sure that TEPs are there (TEPs are there!)

                  Don't let tuna boats drag Flipper from the sea

                  Only albacore for me!

 

All:            We are going to turn the Back Bay into a wetland fen.

 

Solo:            Mary Kay makes bunnies blind,

                  Free them!  Free them!

                  She grabs them by their floppy ears

                  And pokes their eyeballs out.

 

All:            While our loyal Chancellor is sexually challenged

 

Solo:            Our party's like the Love Canal,

                  Sad, but it’s true.

                  'Cause well before the evening's over

                  We’re dumped and forgotten, too.

 

All:            I’ll bet Clarence Thomas tries to make out with Sandra Day

 

Solo:            Exxon, made a sticky mess,

                  Statefarm, they screwed the whole midwest.

                  GE creating debris

                  Creating havoc and public distress.

 

all:            Can't eat no grapes, there's nothing to munch

                  'Cept Ben & Jerry's Rainforest Crunch™

                  Sure wish I could have some lunch

                  And then still respect myself

 

 

(Sy holds a microphone up to the bouncers, Center)

Dan:            Well, I guess there's only one left.  (To bouncer)  What do you think about Taxes?

 

Bouncer3voice:  Oh, it's the best state in the Union!

 

Dan:            Uh, no no.  I mean as in dollars.

 

Bouncer3voice:  Yeah... Dallas Texas!

 

Chauncy:            (to Sy) I like him — make a prototype, and we'll ask some more questions.

 

Sy:             Sure -- just a sec.

 

(Sy brings the bouncer backstage)

(FX -- Sound of a clone being instantly created from a bouncer>

(Sy comes back immediately with the embodied Mike)

 

Sy:             Here he is.

 

(In rapid succession)

 

Chauncy:            Do you know the difference between copper & PVC pipes?

Dan:            Can you understand Tep-a-phone?

“Bob” :            Will you rewire the sink?

Dan:            Iron the foam room?

Chauncy:            Vacuum the fry-o-lator?

Dan:            How many licks does it take?

“Bob” :            What is the average air-speed of an unlaiden swallow?

 

Mike:            Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, 22, and sometimes.

 

Chauncy:            (to Sy) Sometimes?

 

Sy:            I said it was only a prototype...

 

Dan:            One final question.  TEP national has decided that it will only allow members with members.  Do you have one?

 

Mike:            You mean one of these?  (pulls huge prosthetic penis out of purse)

 

Dan,  “Bob”,

& Chauncy:            Definite bid material!

 

Dan:            He's perfect — I'll take 1000 of him.

 

 

"I'm Gonna  Be (500 Mikes)"

(by the Proclaimers)

 

(in dumb Scottish accent)

When you sleep late yeah you know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who puts your clock on snooze

When you're logged on, ya you know I'm gonna be

playing Xtrek on Athena next to you

When you're tooling yeah you know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who flames at you 'til two

If I get drunk yes I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who spews all over you

 

But I would grow 500 Mikes

And I would clone 500 more

Just to be the man who made 1,000 Mikes

To throw up on your floor

 

Da-Da-Dat-Ta

Da-Da-Dat-Ta

Da-Da-Dum-Da-Da-Dum

Da-Da-Dum-Da-Da-Dum-Ta

Da-Da-Da

 

When you're screwing yeah you know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the one who walks right in on you

When you're eited yeah you know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the one with raisins in my hand

If you're in pain yeah you know you're gonna need

You're gonna need a radical splenectomy

When you're pledging you don't know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be one who lubes the sheep for you.^[8]

 

But I would bid 500 Mikes

And I would pledge 500 more

Just to be the man who found 200 Mikes

to live on every floor.

 

 

 

Chauncy:            How did you complete the missing genetic information? Did you use some quantity of your own blood?

 

Sy:            That would be tera-ble—I'd feel like a giga-lo, selling my own body like some kind of mega-logmaniac.   I couldn't kiloff my kids. Besides,  I'd have no in-centi-ve. to get married and have kids, I'd just milli-round the lab.

 

Chauncy:            The idea micro on you...

 

Sy:            na, no way.  You can't pico-ut which genes go where.  You might get a masculine head and a fem-toe.

 

“Bob” :            What comes after femto?

 

Sy:            atto know. It's an insignifigant pun.

 

Chauncy:            (giving bouncer to Sy) Here.  Take that down to Copy-Cop and run off 1000 copies.

(exeunt Sy)

(door bell)

 

Dan:            Hey, there's the doorbell.

 

“Bob” :            Well, go put it...

 

All:            SHUT UP!

 

Dan:            Uh oh, it's Julie West^[9], the IFC Judd-Comm rep.

(Enter Judd-Rep)

 

Julie:            All right you guys, we've gotten several rush violation complaints about you, and we're gonna have to close down your rush.

 

Dan:            If this is about the purple arrows all over President Vest's house, we can explain...

 

Julie:            No, these are far worse.  Violation #1:  You haven't given phone calls to the freshmen.

 

Chauncy:            Phone calls?  Till five minutes ago they didn't even have ears!

 

Julie:            Violation #2:  You've kept the freshmen out for over 6 hours.

 

“Bob” :            Gee, I thought act two was kinda dragging...

 

Julie:            Violation #3:  You've had alcohol around the freshmen.

 

Dan:            That's not alcohol, that's an ethanol solution to preserve the DNA!

 

Julie:            And finally, your songs have been horrible.

 

Chauncy:            Oh, yeah?  You try finding something that rhymes with “Radical Splenectomy".

 

Dan:            Listen, isn't there something we can give you to forget these violations?

 

Chauncy:            Yeah, like our HMO could give free medical care to the entire IFC (at a great loss and tax write-off).

 

Julie:            Sorry, I can't be bribed.

 

 

Dan:            What if we clone a Nobel prize winner to help with your homework?

 

(The following lines were edited out of Chauncy’s script. -ed.)

 

Julie:            You don't understand -- this is a matter of principle.

 

Chauncy:            (offering her a Grape Soder™) How about a Grape Söder?

 

Julie:            Grape soder?!?  Do you really have Grape Soder?

 

Chauncy :            (pouring on the charm)   Why, yes -- right this way...

 

(They were instead replaced with the following:)

 

Julie:            You don’t understand. This is a matter of principle. Besides, all of the Nobel Prize winners are kind of old.

 

Chauncy:            (offering her a diamond engagement ring)  Well, how about me?

 

Julie:

 

                       

(Editor’s note: Those of you who were present know that this was the culmination of a complicated conspiracy of Elizabeth, Bradley and Schmooz to embarrass Leper to the maximum degree by getting him to propose to Elizabeth in front of the Crock audience. Leper, although more than willing to get engaged to this most totally awesome babe-like math chick, mostly failed to say anything coherent and just blubbered some spit out of his mouth. Despite the blank line above, Elizabeth (Julie) did accept this proposal and Leper and Elizabeth will be married in early September of 1994.)

 

(exeunt)

 

 

Act III: It’s 622 Miles to Chicago, We’ve Got a Full Tank of Gas, and a Case of Grape Söder.

 

Scene 1:            Welcome to TEP, for the 22nd time.

(Dan, Sy, “Bob” are standing around. Caltechies together and off to the side)

 

(a knock at the door)

 

Dan:            Hark! I hear the sound of a thousand Mikes coming!

 

Sy:            Wow.  That's some party.

 

(Enter Mike #1)

 

Chauncy:            Welcome to TEP! I’m Chauncy Lay here! Have a grape soder!

 

Sy:            So, err... What's your name?

 

Mike:            Mike.

 

Dan:            Where are you from?

 

Mike:            Grapevine, Texas!

 

“Bob”:            What will be your major?

 

Mike:            Why, course 6-3 of course...

 

Ren & Stimpson:  Right this way...

 

(beat Mike over the head with CRC handbook)

(More mikes enter from outside. Brothers start a round. Each person should sing exactly once  through., escorting a mike clone)

 

Chauncy:            What's your name?

                        What's your name?

Dan:            Where ya from?

                        Where ya from?

Sy:            What will be your major

                        What will be your major

“Bob”:            Right this way.

                        Right this way.

 

(Caltechs continue to brutalize poor innocent freshmikes)

 

Chauncy:            Hell of a rush, Dan Gladdameecha. A thousand perfect freshmen, and all of them decided to live at TEP.

 

Sy:            So you're saying they're perfect, but not very smart.

 

Dan:            Wow. A thousand freshmikes...imagine the bliss brought to TEP under my stupendous leadership.

 

(phone rings)

 

“Bob”:            Mike! Line One!

 

TEPs:            Oh, despair!

 

“Bob”:            Mike? MIKE??

 

Dan:            Where are Mike, anyway? There are 1022 people in the house, yet it's as quiet as a morgue here!

 

(phone rings)

 

“Bob”:            Noise Bitch^[10] on line one!

 

Mike #22:            Hey, guys...where do I put my stuff? I thought I was living in 33 with 417 other Mikes, but I seem to be the only one there.

 

Sy:            In fact, you're the only Mike that I've seen in hours!

 

(scary music)

 

Ren:            That's because we've killed them all, except for Mike #22...

 

Stimpson:            Pledge Baseball! heh huh heh huh.

 

(Frosh 1 + 2 enters from offstage:)

 

Frosh1:            Chauncy! We’ve just came back from the Institute and we have terrible news!

 

Chauncy:            You got a “marginal pass” on your writing requirement??

 

Frosh2:            No, there is a pile of 999 dead Mikes in the back lot!

 

“Bob”:            Isn't there a song about that?

(piano vamp for 99 Red Balloons)

 

All:            No!

 

Chauncy:            Merde! Mike #22, how did you survive the mass mike-o-cide?

 

Mike #22:            I must have been the hidden Mike.

 

Frosh2:            Don’t look now, but there’s a seaweed covered limousine pulling up front!

 

“Bob”:            It's Ked Tennedy,  the famous Senatah!

 

Chauncy:            And after 24 years, he still hasn't cleaned the seaweed off of his limousine!

 

“Bob”:            I know  there's a song about that...^[11]

 

Drunken Teddy's Sunken Black Sedan

(to the tune of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band")

 

                        Over twenty years ago today

                        Drunken Teddy plunged into the bay

                        Its been going in and out of press

                        And its really been a P.R. mess

 

                        So let me introduce to you

                        The senatah who's full a beeyas

                        Drunken Teddy's sunken black sedan.

 

(Musical Interlude)

 

                        It’s Drunken Teddy’s sunken black sedan

                        Don’t wait for me to get your door

                        It’s Drunken Teddy’s Sunken Black Sedan

                        I hope that you can swim ashore (glug glug glug glug)

 

                        Drunken Teddy’s sunken,

                        Drunken Teddy’s sunken,

                        Drunken Teddy’s sunken black sedan

 

Ked            It’s wonderful to be here

                        We really took a spill

                        You’re such a lovely passenger

                        I hope you wrote your will,

                        The car’s starting to fill.

 

All            He did really want to stop the car

                        But he drove a little bit too far

                        And its really hard to call for help

                        When you’re choking on a wad o' kelp

                        So let me introduce to you,

                        The one and only Senatah

 

                        Drunken Teddy’s sunken black sedan

 

 

Scene 2:            Too much plot

(Frosh1, Chauncy, Dan, and “Bob” are standing around)

(Pillory enters)

 

Ked:            Howdy, boys! Have some chowda!

 

Frosh1:            Thanks, Senatah...say, what brings you over to TEP today?

 

Ked:            I want to speak with you about health care.  You see, I have just discovered that the health care plan you boys came up with costs the low, low price of just $22.22 per person per year, while the Official  Congressional  Health Care Plan costs $22,000 per person per year...

 

“Bob”:            And our plan has free rubber gloves!

 

Ked:            ... and by naming TEP's Planned Purplehood HMO to manage America's health care system, there'll  be enough money left over  to balance the budget, finance my reelection campaign, and put guardrails on all the bridges in Martha's Vineyard.

 

Frosh2:            Speaking of that, how did you drive your limousine from the Vineyard? I thought the ferry didn't run on Sundays.

 

Ked:            You don't need a ferry when you've got....experience.

 

“Bob”:            I read about your experience... (holds up Vanity Fair)

 

Ked:            That’s just sensationalistic claptrap. I don’t think you’ve heard my side of the story... enough times...

 

Chappaquidick

(to the tune of "Ein Feisty Berg")

 

A peaceful countryside painted by spring

A crystal river crossing our path

This tranquil setting is such a fine thing

Perhaps you'd like to take a long bath

My darling have no fear

Your screams I'll never hear

I wonder just what you'll feel

In just a moment we'll

 

Drive off that Bridge when we come to it

 

A tragic error was Chappaquiddick

My time could have been much better spent

Your parents call me a bastardous prick

You've stopped me being next president

So let's go for a ride

You just might join my side

Please understand my zeal

For in a moment we'll

Drive off that Bridge when we come to it

 

Dan:            Look, it's the President, Ms. Pillory Nottingham-Hinton!

 

“Bob”:            Did you ride with the Senatah?

 

Pillory:            I'm no fool, I walked.

 

Chauncy:            Welcome to TEP, Madam President. Have a Grape Söder.

 

Pillory:           I’ve heard an awful lot about your grape soder, and none of it good. In fact, I haven’t heard a single worthy thing about your so-called health maintenance organization, and I’m here to make sure that bunch of bubble-headed foons in Congress doesn’t make a horrible mistake by putting you in charge.

 

Dan:            Hey! We did a great job running those S&Ls!

 

Pillory:            My secret committee has done an investigation, and discovered the following facts about your HMO:

 

o            You have only one medical doctor—someone by the name of Kervorkian—on your payroll.

 

o            Three-quarters of the drugs you've prescribed are on the D.E.A. controlled substances list

 

o            999 of your first 1022 patients are, as of this moment, dead.

 

Sy:            (In Monty Python Squeeky voice)  They're not dead; they're just resting.

 

Pillory:            And finally, your organization has performed 98% of all the  late-term, radical spleenectomies in the North-West Free World.  I demand that you explain these irregularities!

 

“Bob”:            We ran out of Metamucil™?

 

Chauncy:            I can explain everything! Ms. Nottingham-Hinton, nobody plans to have a radical spleenectomy. (cast begins to hum patriotic music in the background.) But the difficult circumstances that arise in today's society often leave one no other choice—sometimes organ donation just is not an option. We want every spleen to be a wanted spleen. And, despite the political pressure against it, our facility is dedicated to giving a choice to those in need of radical spleenectomological services.

 

Pillory:            So, you're saying it is an act of charity?  That in fact you lose  money on each operation?

 

“Bob”:            Well, that was the whole idea, right?

 

Chauncy:            (hits “Bob” in disgust) Perhaps a gentle aria would help explain our position...

 

Splenectomy

(to the tune of “Lobotomy”)

 

                        Last night was an ugly scene

                        Had to amputate a spleen

                        (He) said the pain was in his knees

                        solution? a SPLENECTOMY!!

                        You can laugh but it's not funny

                        (It) happened to my uncle Sonny

 

                        Even back when I was three

                        I knew what I'd want to be

                        Had no time to come to dinner

                        (I was) rearranging Rover's innards

                        Some kill babies and some hug trees

                        I wanna do SPLENECTOMIES!

 

                        SPLENECTOMY!  SPLENECTOMY!

                        SPLENECTOMY!  SPLENECTOMY!

 

(Cast moshes,and crowd surfs.)

 

                        (I've) taken spleens out near and far

                        (I) keep successes in a jar

                        (Some)times I operate again

                        (be)cause I left my scalpel in

                        I don't do it for the money

                        I love doing SPLENECTOMIES!

 

 

(end scene and close doors. Breathe deeply. Consume mas quantities of grape soder.)

 

Scene 3:            Everybody wants a Resolution, well, We All Want to Try and Save the World

 

Ked:            See, they're just a good bunch of kids trying to get by.

 

Pillory:            At least explain what happened to your first 999 patients. I will not sign this bill unless these deaths are explained.

 

Stimpson:            heh huh, heh huh

 

Chauncy:            Hey, it's those dweebs from Caltech! I bet they killed the kilomike!

 

Ren:            Perhaps, but you'll never catch us, you worthless sacks of MIT proto-nerds.

 

Sy:            I challenge you...to a match of Geek-Fu, the martial art of the super-nerdly!

 

Dan:            Don't do it, Sy!  They'll crush (crush, crush, crush) you like an empty Jolt™ can!

 

Ren:            We accept!  No HP calculators or SPARCstations! Strictly neuro à neuro.

 

(They approach each other, Kung-Fu style. Caltechie draws first)

 

Sy:            What are the first 22 digits of Pi?

 

Ren:            3.1415926 5358 9793 2384 6264.... That was too easy. I'll let you ask another.

 

Sy:            How about in base 22?

 

Dan:            (gasp)

 

Ren:            (confidently) 3.32BEK 9A80 9GC6 CI2D l3H0...

 

Chauncy:            (Homer Simpson like)  Doe!

 

Ren:            Who designed the 741 Operational Amplifier?

 

Sy:            Robert J. Widlar, of course.  Give three examples of nonlinear escapement oscillators^[12].

 

Ren:             A mechanical wristwatch, make-or-brake flywheel engines in the mid-1800s, and your right hand.  What is the mnemonic for the instruction to enforce in-order execution of input/output on the IBM PowerPC?

 

All:            Oooooh!

 

Sy:            EIEIO.  Why can't nerds tell the difference between Halloween and Christmas?

 

Ren:            Because 31 oct = 25 dec.  What is the integral of e to the x du dx plus e to the u du?

 

All:            Aaaaaah!

 

Sy:            Um, er, Secant, Tangent, Cosine Sine, 3.14159.  Uh, uh..who wrote... “Romeo and Juliet?”

 

Ren:            That would be...Issac Asimov?

 

Sy:            No.  Who was Pablo Picasso?  Why did no one ever call him an asshole?^[13]

 

Ren:            Um...umm...he’s the special effects supervisor for “Star Trek, Deep Space Nine?”, right?

 

Sy:            No!  What is the best use for a condom?

 

Ren:            Um, uh...fill it up with water and throw it off the top of Millikan Library?

 

Sy:            No, No, No!!! (does a little dance as Ren crumbles)

 

Ren:            Forsooth, I am slain!

 

Stimpson:            (Starts crying with Stimpy’s end-of-show cry.)

 

Chauncy:            OK, you Caltech weenies. We know you killed the entire freshman...

 

Ren:            We intended to, but we arrived late because Paul Gray sat on our global positioning system.  By the time we got there, they ate the food ARA had prepared for them and died instantly.

 

Chauncy:            But you did actually kill the 999 cloned Mikes. Why?  What makes good nerds go bad?

 

“Bob”:            Lack of preservatives?

 

Ren:            TEP National offered us each new HP calculator.  All we had to do was close down Xi Chapter by killing all of the entering freshmen for four years.

 

“Bob”:            Those boneheads. They’d have to do it for more than four years.^[14]

 

Dan:            That's it? You killed nearly a thousand people just for a calculator??

 

Stimpson:            But, but, it's the HP 22 mark 11 calculator with the graphical display, special Application pack...

 

Ren:            ...Yea, the one guaranteed to get us laid as much as you do!

 

“Bob”:            That's not much of a guarantee.

 

Chauncy:            See, Pillory?? It's not our fault that the 999 Mikes died.  Except for that one minor incident, we've never lost a patient.

 

Pillory:            Perhaps you aren't the money-loving, tax-evading, beer-swilling, no-brain frat boy jerks I had originally imagined...

 

“Bob”:            Well, we never said that.

 

Beer, Beer at old T-E-Phi

(to the tune of Beer, Beer at old T-E-Phi)

 

                        Beer, Beer at old T-E-Phi

                        You bring the whiskey, I'll bring the rye

                        Send those freshmen out for gin

                        Don't let a sober sophmore in

 

                        We never stumble we never fall.

                        We sober up on straight ethanol

                        While three-quarters of us all lie

                        drunk on the joff room floor

 

Ted:            If there’s drinking anywhere (anywhere!)

                        You'll be sure that TEPs are there

                        If the party lasts 'til one or two or three

                        Some brothers always there will be

 

Chorus            While the newest freshman all lie drunk in the chapter room.

 

                        The party punch is 80 proof

                        spike it, spike it

                        we need all that alcohol to keep us well preserved

 

Chorus            While our loyal chancellor lies drunk in the ktichen sink.

 

Dan:            Our parties are like the Mars Observer...

                        They say its true

                        Cause long before the party’s over

                        We’re lost in deep space too.           

 

Chorus            While half of the brotherhood lies drunk in the chapter room.

 

Xemu:            Liquor, along with beer and wine

                        Liquor, it makes things really shine

                        Liquor, that extra kicker

                        There is no more strife, we feel life is fine

 

                        We never stumble we never fall.

                        We sober up on straight ethanol

                        While three-quarters of us all lie

                        drunk on the joff room floor

 

Pillory:            Unfortunately, boys will be boys.

 

Chauncy:            Speaking of boys, has anyone seen Mike lately?

 

Ren:            No, but I found this bra in the second back bathroom that says "Mike" on it.

 

Dan:            And why were you looking at it so closely?

 

Ren:            I've never seen one before.

 

Pillory:            Hmm. This seems like foreshadowing to me.

 

(Exit Pillory)

 

Frosh1:            So what are you guys going to do about the rest of the freshman?  Frosh2 and I can't take all of the freshman classes by ourselves; it'll wreck the curve.

 

Chauncy:            Maybe we could clone another 1000 mikes.

 

“Bob”, sings:...And I would clone 500 mikes and I would clone 500 more

 

All:            Shut up!

 

(increasingly depressed over the last ten minutes)^[15]

 

Sy:            No, it can't be done. Mike's cells have already passed the 22nd generation, we can't do a simple Copy-Cop cloning. I'd have to go back to the original material but it's all gone. Plus I just got a letter from the Dean's Office, and I’m in deep shit.

 

Chauncy:            What did it say?

 

Sy:            I spent so much time last term building the new digital fiber optic version of Tepophone that I failed all of my classes. I've been on double secret probation since my freshman year. In my sleep I still hear my telephony instructor berating me...

 

You Might As Well Drop This One

(to the tune of "Only the Good Die Young", by Billy Joel)

 

“Adults”            Come on Sy, don't make me wait

                        You started your homework much too late

                        With such low grades you won't graduate

                        You might as well drop this one

                        They showed you equations that only confound

                        You got a nerd kit, wired power to ground

                        You haven’t answered question one.

                        Your problem set’s not begun

 

                        Your parents told you MIT had a fine reputation

                        But did they tell you about

                        Four years of never going out, (whoa whoa whoa)

 

“Teps”            You might have heard I tool with a dim-witted team

                        We ain't too smart, have low self-esteem

                        We'll never cut it in academe

                        But at least we're having fun

 

“Adults”            Come on, the drop card is ready to sign

                        Wait any longer, you'll pay a late fine

                        Who do you think you are, Albert Einstein?

                        You're just a simpleton.

                        I say You might as well drop this one

                        (music break)

                        You got a Chuck Vest speech and a picnic at your convocation

                        You got a brand new book

                        For each and every class that you took

                        But the course listing didn't give you quite enough information

                        You counted on a curve

                        Instead you got the grade you deserve (whoa whoa whoa)

 

“Teps”            They say there's a grad school if you can rate

                        Some say it's better but I say it ain't

                        I'd rather leave MIT than moan with complaints

                        Dropouts have much more fun

                        I say you might as well drop this one

 

                        You say your parents told you MIT had a fine reputation

                        But did they tell you ‘bout

                        Four years of never going out?

 

Dan:            Well, since you're going to get kicked out anyway, why don't you figure out how to clone another 1000 mikes? I'd hate to go down as the Rush Chairman of three freshman.

 

Frosh1:            hey, Dan?

 

Dan:            yeah?

 

Frosh1:            I really don't know if that's such a good idea. Pretty soon the campus will be nothing but mike. 500 mikes in 8.01, 500 mikes in six-oh-mumble-fuck.  Mikes on my cooking team.  Mikes doing my work assignment, Mikes everywhere!

 

Frosh2:            That's right. We came to TEP because it was different from the Leading Brand of Fraternity, different from North-West Campus House. I liked the pathological conglomeration of completely incompatible personalities in one small, angst-filled and totally weird house.

 

Dan:            (Sniffs,drying eyes) That's such a sweet thing to say!

 

Frosh1:            Plus there won’t be any freshbabes to tool with. Or whatever.

 

Chauncy:            The freshman have spoken well and truly. We shall bring back the class of 1997 somehow. That is, Sy will do it and I’ll take all the credit.

 

Sy:            If only there were some other source of freshman blood, some animal which sucks the life out of each and every undergraduate and stores it up for its own nefarious purpose...

 

“Bob”:            I've seen one of those!

 

Dan:            Where!?

 

“Bob”:            It's dark and unfriendly, and lives over in E-19...

 

Dan:            Of course...it's the most villanous of beasts...

 

ALL:            THE BURSAR!

 

Chauncy:            What remarkable intuition.

 

Frosh1:            Did you say, tuition?

 

Chauncy:            NO!

 

(exit and close doors, as Frosh1 is beaten mercilessly.)

 

Scene 5:            This is too gnurdly for the crock, too gnurdly for the crock...

 

(Chauncy, Sy, “Bob”, Ren and Stimpy are present)

(TEPs and caltechs with computers.)

 

Chauncy:            What are you doing now?

 

Sy:            We're e-felching the Bursar's computer system .

 

Ren:            I'll start running a comparison between encrypted versions of various foreign-language dictionaries and the user password file.

 

Stimpson:            I'll start factoring 200 digit numbers, just in case we need a prime.

 

Sy:            Don’t bother. See, we just enter "DAVID ANDREW HONIG" as the user name...

 

Ren:            And you’re in! how did you do that??

 

Sy:            I typed “DAVID ANDREW HONIG.”

 

Ren:            Oh!

 

Sy:            See, I wrote the billing software for bursar's office when I was a freshman. So I left that backdoor hanging around just in case.

 

Chauncy:            What a premonition...

 

Sy:            Nah, I just didn't want to pay my tuition.

 

Frosh2:            You really did say tuition, and dammit, I know there’s a song about it.

 

“Bob”:            And today, we proudly present it for you.

 

Tuition

(to the tune of "Tradition")

 

Tuition!            Tuition!            Tuition!

Tuition!            Tuition!            Tuition!

 

When I was just a lad I studied hard at school you see

The thing I wanted most was to get into MIT

And now I'm here the end is near; my grades were good enroute.

There's just one thing between me and that sheepskin from the 'Tute.

 

Poor Student!            Poor Student!            Tuition!           

Poor Student!            Poor Student!            Tuition!

 

I'm sorry to report to you we can't give you a loan

Your dad makes too much money that we'd like to call our own.

So borrow, beg, or steal, I don't care how you get the dough.

A second mortgage, sell the car, just pay me what you owe.

 

The Bursar!            The Bursar!            Tuition!

The Bursar!            The Bursar!            Tuition!

 

Well son, I see your grades this term have not been all that hot.

You still won't get a haircut, my last birthday you forgot

Your brother and two sisters I still have to put through school

So if you think you'll get a dime you really are a fool!

 

The Father!            The Father!            Tuition!

The Father!            The Father!            Tuition!

 

I came out east to go to school and try to learn a trade

And now I'm on the street 'cause they refused financial aid.

So I'll just have to take the only job that I can choose:

I'll open up a hardware store and sell left handed screws...

 

Tuition!            Tuition!            Tuition!

Tuition!            Tuition!            Tuition!

 

Sy:            So, it looks like the Bursar's office has the complete chromosone sequences for every freshman entering since 1922. With that, we'll be able to rebuild the whole freshman class, plus make a second copy of Richard Feynman to help boost our house G.P.A.  With the help of the Caltech weenies, it'll take less than a week.

 

Chauncy:            How did you get them to work for you?

 

Sy:            I promised them my first edition of "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns" and a bunch of old Japanamation VCR tapes.

 

Chauncy:            Cool. Hey, if you've got access to the bursar's office computer, could you, ya know, "fix" our little financial problem?

 

Sy:            Oh, yeah...yesterday I changed all of the little minus signs to  little plus signs. We should get a big check back from the Institute.

 

Chauncy:            Thanks, Sy. You're a hellovaguy.

 

“Bob”:            So, can we blow up the computers now?

 

(enditda sceneda: return very soon thereafter.)

 

Scene 6:            Resolution^[16]

 

Dan:            So where is Mike, anyway? I haven't seen him in days.

 

Michelle:            I'm right here, butthead. What's up?

 

Dan:            But...but...you’ve changed—now you’ve got a higher voice, softer skin, and, well... (makes semi-rude gestures)..you know.

 

Michelle:            Yeah, well now I can integrate better, too, but do you think any less of me for it?

 

Chauncy:            Zenana! What will National say when they find out we've bid a woman??

 

“Bob”:            We didn't bid a woman. We bid a man, and now he's a she.^[17]

 

Chauncy:            But won't National get mad?

 

All:            FUCK NATIONAL!

 

Chauncy:            All right!  Michelle, welcome to TEP!

 

Dan:            I've just one question...how did this happen?  How come Mike turned into Michelle?

 

(Everyone looks at Sy)

 

Sy:            Well, the technique was sort of rough then. I didn't have quite enough blood for a complete DNA image...

 

Chauncy:            So?

 

Sy:            So, I, um...I borrowed some....

 

Chauncy:            From whom?

 

Sy:            I used skin scrapings from Michael Jackson’s dermatologist...

 

All:            Ah....

 

Dan:            No wonder you’re a white woman!

 

Chauncy:            It certainly has been an eventful Rush. We’ve foiled the best attempts of National to destroy Xi Chapter, rebuilt America’s health care system from the ground up, and paid our tuition—at least for this term. But I’ve still got to write my Chancellor’s report, and the plot was so ridiculously convoluted that I can’t remember what happened.

 

Michelle:            Well then. Why don’t we sing about it?

 

TEP HOUSE CROCK^[18]

(to the tune of "Jail House Rock^[19]")

 

Mrs. Clinton told us we must pay the tax

Better do it timely or we’ll get the axe

Tep house brothers formed ourselves an HMO

A clever scheme to make ourselves a heap of dough

Let's Crock, everybody, let's Crock.

Everybody on the TEP house block, was singing to the TEP house crock.

 

Bunch of freshmen showed up at the Institute

ARA killed em all with rotten food

All the TEP house brothers fell into despair

Afraid that this year’s rush week hasn’t got a prayer

We’re fucked, we were sure we were fucked.

Everybody was terror-struck, that Tep house would be out of luck.

 

Killed a damn mosquito, got mike’s DNA

Ran off a thousand copies almost right away

The cal tech weenies killed them off 1 2 3

The whole TEP house was anarchy

It sucked, oh yes sir, it sucked.

The weenies had run amok, It seemed to us that Tep was stuck

 

For a new supply of blood we went to MIT

to take back from the Bursar what he took from me

It was a clever way to keep up tradition

And let us sing a song about tuition

Let's Crock, everybody, let's Crock.

You don’t need much of a plot, when singing to some drunken sots.

 

Tep house was victorious as you can see

Successfully completing this year’s odyssey

We’re tired now of singing and trying to rhyme

We’ll force ourselves to do it just one last time.

Let's Crock, everybody, let's Crock.

While I hope you’ve had a lot of fun, I’m just glad we got the damn thing done.

 

(repeat ad nauseam)

 

                        Everybody on the TEP house block,

                        was singing to the TEP house crock...

 

 

exeunt omnibus

 

Crockus finiitus  thankgoditus