The Firesign Theatre’s vision of The Future Fair included this:

Well, Mr. President, it’s the bees and spiders again! They stole my food stamps, and sold ’em to the rats. And I tried to get down to my car, for to honk the horn for help, but the snakes has gotten it for the cockroaches. I go back upstairs, but the spiders has jammed the police lock! I ain’t been inside for a week, and I know that my wife is sleepin’ with the bees!

Could you state that as a question, please?

Well sure, Mr. President! Where can I get a job?!

From I Think We’re All Bozos on This Bus, 1971.

UPDATE—Oh, here’s Mr. President’s response:

Many busy executives ask me: What about the job displacement market in the city of the future? Well, count on us—”Jim!”—to be there! Because if we’re successful tomorrow—we won’t have to answer questions like yours, ever again.

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