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Sex v. FCC: Act I

Sex v. FCC: Act I Fox Broadcasting Corp.
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What is sex itself were hauled before the FCC and forced to defend itself? G.L. Morrison considers the twists, turns, and inherent satire of such an eventuality.

  The First Degree, con't.

At the prosecution table, Freud looks around as if to say, ‘Who said that? Not me.’ Hitler sits down, and, as if an invisible baton has been passed, J. Edgar Hoover, toting a sizable stack of file folders, rises for his leg of the marathon.

Judge Judy: Order! Order in the court! Mr. Hoover, are you prepared to proceed?

J. Edgar Hoover: Yes, your honor. (Turns to address The First and pats his files confidently) Now, these comrades of yours have been known to get into some trouble haven’t they?

The First: Yes, they like to party.

J. Edgar Hoover: (Swooping in for the kill) And you like to party with them? Don’t deny it. We have pictures. (Hoover flashes photos to the jury before snapping the files closed possessively.) And wire taps.

The First: I wasn’t going to deny it.

J. Edgar Hoover: Of course not, you like being associated with bad boys.

The First: (Purrs) And bad girls.

J. Edgar Hoover: (Sneering) You don’t care what side they’re on. KKK, Black Panthers. It’s all the same to you. You and the ACLU (aside to jury), which, by the way, is just another filthy four-letter word in my book (returns to addressing The First), you’ll give it to anyone. Free Speech. Free Love. Or whatever you young people call it.

Sigmund Freud: (Sotto voce) Slut!

Freud feigns a cough as Kinsey kicks his foot from the row behind. Freud attempts to look embarrassed but instead appears smug.

J. Edgar Hoover: Do you see yourself as the Pied Piper? You lead ’em on, and then they take the fall while you hide behind an old piece of paper. “Not my fault, I’m just a little part of the Constitution.” Lady, you’re not a witness. You’re a co-conspirator!"

Perry Mason: Your Honor, I object. He’s badgering the witness!

Judge Judy: So?

A badger: (From the gallery) I resent that.

A beaver: (Standing next to the badger) Get used to it, Pal.

J. Edgar Hoover: (Leaning in so close that The First can smell the corruption on his breath) Answer the question.

The First: That wasn’t a question.

J. Edgar Hoover: What do you think this is, Jeopardy? I have to phrase my questions in the form of a question?

The First: I’ll take constitutional law for 400, Alex.

J. Edgar Hoover: Okay then, here’s a question, Ms. Smarty-No-Panties, isn’t it true that you’ve been known to consort with militant homosexuals, white supremacists, flag-burning anarchists, and…(pregnant pause, then shudders) comedians?

A collective gasp from the gallery.

Atticus Finch: (Rising for the defense) Objection, your Honor. Irrelevant and prejudicial.

J. Edgar Hoover: (Snarls) It’s extremely relevant since the seven words on trial today are best known for being arrested onstage in Chicago with comedian George Carlin. These “so called” comics think of themselves as language freedom fighters, but are nothing more than potty-mouthed domestic terrorists threatening the moral fabric of this nation.

Shit: (Snickering from the defense table) He said potty mouthed.

J. Edgar Hoover: (Mutters) Filthy degenerates.

The Ghost of George Carlin: I resemble that remark.

Disembodied voice of another comic specter-cum-ventriloquist: Aye, I and I too.

The Ghost of Nipsy Russell: The ayes have it!

The ghosts of Lenny Bruce and Bill Hicks high-five each other.

Judge Judy: Order!

The Ghost of Redd Foxx: (Moaning dramatically) I’m coming, Elizabeth!

The Ghost of Richard Pryor: (Shaking his ectoplasmic head) Dude, that’s not as funny as when you were alive.

The Ghost of Redd Foxx: It’s still funny, fool. Only now it’s, “Elizabeth, I came. Finally.”

Judge Judy: (Shouts) Order in the court!

The Ghost of Richard Pryor: Was it something I said?

Judge Judy: (Stands) Anyone who doesn’t shut up immediately will be held in contempt. I will clear the court if I need an exorcist to do it! Do you understand?

Matlock: (From the defense table) Your honor, please don’t do that. Many of our witnesses are corporeally challenged Americans.

The Ghost of Flip Wilson: Wearing a black dress don’t make you God, honey. (To jury) I should know.

Matlock: Hush now, Mr. Wilson.

The Ghost of Flip Wilson: The devil made me do it.

Judge Judy: That would explain a lot. Don’t you all have some comedy club in Hell to be haunting?

The Ghost of Lenny Bruce: Oh, yeah! SRO, Every night. Hell is Heaven for comedians.

Judge Judy: (Looks impressed in spite of herself) Really? What is there in Hell to laugh about?

The Ghost of Dean Martin: (Floats over to the bench, rattling the ice in his glass as noisily as Marley’s chains—Bob wore very loud jewelry—sloshes a little phantom whiskey on her Judgeness, while sneaking a peek down her robes). Mostly, we joke about how lame the clubs in Heaven must be.

The Ghost of Lenny Bruce: Can you imagine who’s headlining there? Our side got all the artists, man. Poets, painters, musicians and comedians. What have they got? Pat Boone and Lamb Chop?

Judge Judy: Pat Boone isn’t dead.

The Ghost of Lenny Bruce: How can you tell?

J. Edgar Hoover: Can we get back to the witness at hand?

Judge Judy: Right after this commercial break.

SFX: Bah dum

Cue Credit: To be continued…

Fade out.

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