Saul Alinsky said that ridicule is man’s most potent weapon, and I’ve tried to use mockery in dealing with Team Kimberlin. When Matt Osborne made a lame joke about my believing myself to be the Sheriff of the Internet out a Blogsmoke fantasy, I began running a series of Blogsmoke old time radio parody scripts. That led to the Blognet and Yours Truly, Johnny Atsign features, all of which made fun of Team Kimberlin.
Of course, Bill Schmalfeldt tried to various competing radio drama parodies. This Johnny Atsign episode from six years ago today made fun of the Cabin Boy’s efforts.
* * * * *
SOUND: Landline phone rings once.
JOHNNY: Johnny Atsign.
CALLER: (Telephone Filter) I’d like to order a pizza to go with no anchovies.
JOHNNY: No anchovies? You’ve got the wrong man.
CALLER: (Telephone Filter) Yeah, yeah. You spell your name Atsign.
JOHNNY: OK. Who is this?
CALLER: (Telephone Filter) Let’s just say that I’m a man of mystery with some information for you.
JOHNNY: Really? Information about what?
CALLER: (Telephone Filter) About whom. Perhaps you know her as “Nancy.”
JOHNNY: Go on.
MUSIC: Theme up and under.
ANNOUNCER: The Lickspittle Broadcasting System presents W. J. J. Hoge in the transcribed adventures of the man with the action-packed Twitter account, America’s fabulous free-lance Internet investigator …
JOHNNY: Yours Truly, Johnny Atsign!
MUSIC: Theme up to music out.
JOHNNY: The following is partial extract of the tweets sent and received during my investigation of the Industrial Shoes Matter.
JOHNNY TWEETS: (SYNTH VOICE) @TheGrouch @TheBomber Sometimes I have other fish to fry.
JOHNNY: (Lots of echo) Nancy! I’d tried not to think of her for years …
SOUND: That harp arpeggio that means a flashback.
YOUNG NANCY: Oh, Johnny! You’re so sweet, but I can’t marry you.
YOUNG JOHNNY: Sure you can. We can make it work.
YOUNG NANCY: No, Johnny. I’m married to my career, at least for now. Protecting wildlife is important. I know you love me, but I could never repay you.
YOUNG JOHNNY: (Fading out.) Sure you could with easy monthly payments …
CALLER: (Telephone Filter) … at the top of the ski lift at 8 sharp. Don’t be late.
SOUND: Line hung up. Dial tone.
JOHNNY: The sun had been down for more than an hour, and a cold winter night was settling over Westminster.
SOUND: Road noise. Car interior POV.
JOHNNY: As I whipped onto MD 140, a driving snow began. My tires squealed as I slid around nearly colliding with other cars.
VOICE: (Off mike) Hey! Watch it, Jerk!
JOHNNY: As I got off the main road, I could see the lights around the ski lift. I pulled into the parking lot …
SOUND: Car engine stops. Car door opens and closes.
JOHNNY: … and stepped out into the cornstarch.
SOUND: Footstep in snow.
JOHNNY: I only had a few minutes to make to the lift. As I approached the bottom, there was a old man warming himself by a fire pit.
SOUND: Footsteps out. Fire crackling.
OLD MAN: Howdy. Pull up a bench and warm yourself by the cellophane.
JOHNNY: I’ve got to get to the top of the lift.
OLD MAN: Oh, you can get there from here, but there’s no way back. (Chuckles)
ANNOUNCER: Johnny may be out in the snow for this episode, but here in real world of Westminster, we’re having one of those pleasant summer evenings when it’s nice to sit on the porch and sip a cold drink while listening to crickets and watching the lightning bugs. I’ve been sipping mine from a Murum Aries Attigit travel mug. It’s just one of the goodies exclusively available for you to spend your hard-earned cash on at The Hogewash Store. Stop by today, and spend some cash to support Team Lickspittle. You can also show your support by hitting the Tip Jar.
SOUND: Ski lift machinery in background.
JOHNNY: As I exited the lift, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Even on a week night there should be people on the slopes. Why was the place empty? I began to suspect a trap.
JOHNNY: The sound came from a vacant concession stand. I carefully looked over the counter, and there in a large trap was a huge rat. Too many story lines were beginning to come together.
SOUND: Ski lift machinery stops.
I had just noticed that the ski lift had quit when I saw flash of light in the tree line to my right. Someone had just lit a cigarette, and he was walking this way. I moved around behind the concession stand and waited for him to come by.
I tackled him …
JOHNNY: … and rolled him over.
LT. BRADSHAW: Atsign! I shoulda known.
JOHNNY: Bradshaw! What the hell are you doing in this script?
LT. BRADSHAW: Get offa me.
SOUND: Johnny and Bradshaw getting up out of the snow.
LT. BRADSHAW: Yeah, this isn’t my usual beat, but the DNR got a call from a woman calling herself Nancy Something-or-other about someone poaching bobcats up here. I was in the area and got stuck with the call backing them up.
JOHNNY: Nancy, huh?
LT. BRADSHAW: Yeah. So I’m up here in this snow looking for a dead cat.
JOHNNY: Did you check the soap dish?
LT. BRADSHAW: What?
ANNOUNCER: Yes. In the soap dish. There’s a whole dead cat in every bar of Dead Cat Soap.
Hold it, how come I’m reading this commercial?
DIRECTOR: (Over talkback intercom) Just read it, OK. Noting makes sense in this episode.
LT. BRADSHAW: Atsign, you can be a bigger pain than any of the other private guys I have to mess with.
JOHNNY: Lieutenant, I’ll take that as a compliment.
JOHNNY TWEETS: (SYNTH VOICE) @TheGrouch If you’re going to rip off other folks’ scripts, steal from good ones!
ANNOUNCER: Now, here’s our star to tell you about next week’s intriguing episode of our story.
JOHNNY: Next time? Everything you know is wrong! Join us, won’t you?
Yours Truly, Johnny Atsign!
MUSIC: Swell theme and under
ANNOUNCER: Yours Truly, Johnny Atsign, starring W. J. J. Hoge, is transcribed in Westminster. Be sure to join us next Monday, same time and URL, for the next exciting episode of Yours Truly, Johnny Atsign.
MUSIC: Theme up to music out.
ANNOUNCER: Johnny Atsign is a work of fiction. If anyone thinks it’s about him, he should read Proverbs 28:1.
This is LBS, the Lickspittle Broadcasting System.
LT. BRADSHAW: Hey! Can someone help me get this cornstarch out of my hair?
* * * * *
A good composer does not imitate; he steals.