by Bill Bohannon, DMY Columnist 12-10-03

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Act I | Act II | Act III | Act IV

NOTES: Emperor George W. Caesar Augustus II, demented son of Emperor George Orange Julius Caesar I, has taken over Rome. Rome is trasitioning from being a fairly democratic republic, into the Roman Empire. The Republic of Rome lasted a scant two hundred years (about average for democratic republics). But, it is now being refashioned by George W. Caesar II and his "advisors", into a world-conquering, blood-thirsty war machine.

The Republic was an economic success, but after less than three short years into the reign of the imbecile, George W. Caesar Augustus II, the economy has plunged into near chaos, with all taxes collected by the government going either toward the ever-expanding wars for virgin olive oil in the Mid East, or to immense paybacks to the wealthy, controlling elite, the ONLY citizens that still support the "Idiot Emperor".

On this day, Emperor George II is headed to the Roman Senate. The Senate, once a noble house of lawmakers, has become little more than a chamber of sickly, sleek, old men, who simply go about the task of appropriating money to implement Caesar II's latest follies. When not rubber-stamping George II's latest "vision", they are generally engaged in the business of disassembling the remaining social programs of the now defunct Republic of Rome. They then also apply those monies toward the latest whim of George Caesar II, or to the kickback of "taxes" to George II's obese supporters.

Unbeknownst to the idiot George II, his once good friend and one-time supporter Senator Ramus Erectus today stands ready to call for the impeachment and banishment of George W. Caesar II. He is joined in his efforts by Polyestes Correctas, a Senatora Emeritas, who rarely makes a personal appearance in the Senate Chamber.

The liberal side of the Senate is paralyzed with a mental dementia known as "Political Correctus", a disease affecting the brain, spine and genitalia of all but a very few of the liberal men of the Senate. Polyestes Correctas rules these "ghosts of good men" with a tightly clenched fist.

It is often said that Polyestes Correctas loathes ALL men, and craves only those of her own fair sex. It is also well known that she hates "dumb, macho, Texas, redneck, cowboy, pig-men" the most! You KNOW who THAT would include. But of course, George II is clueless.

The tall, pierced, stunning, tatooed Polyestes Correctas, in a black patent leather pants outfit with long, matching gloves and cape, enters the Senate Hall. She is pulled along on a strong, silver-plated chain by her huge, black, snarling dog, Huevas Rancheras. The dog growls viciously at every cowering Senator she passes.

SENATOR BRUCE (off to the side): Oh my heavens! 'Tis she, and the dog she rideth in on! Is my tunic on straight? Are my thoughts CLEAN and TOTALLY P.C.? Oh, praise Zeus! It is SHE! A virtual goddess in the flesh boundith toward us!

Polyestes and Huevas Rancheras stop suddenly in the huge, column-lined hall. Polyestes Correctas scans the room, looking for any man who dares not bow down to her.
POLYESTES CORRECTAS: You, Senator Roberto Byrdus, why doth thou not honor me?

SENATOR BYRDUS (snarling): Forgive me, fair lady, but at my age, stooping to YOU and that dog is totally impossible.

_______

Off to the side of the Senate Chamber, behind a column, are our two young, undaunted, unbroken, fresh, clean, un-PC-enhanced Senators, just arrived from the provinces (near St. Topless, France): Publius and Furianus. They are trying to control their laughter at this wicked, decadent scene.
PUBLIUS: My gods, man! That dog is uglier than I hearith from the vados at the Amor de Perros Bar!

FURIANUS: Yea verily, dude! And her breath smellith like Arkansas from all the eggs she eats!
They say that Polyestes Correctas inventith the entire conceptus of "Political Correctus". 'Twas SHE that realized FIRST that men should be subject to such "revision" as was necessary to destroy the chauvinistus ways of old, that dwelith in the hearts and minds of all males of our human race.

PUBLIUS: And distroy the old ways she has! But, she hath also destroyed Liberalism, the Democratic Party, and our sacred democracy itself! It hath turned the good, sharp men on our liberal side of the isle into indecisive weenies! It hath taken the jue de vive from the birds and bees, the caffeine out of Mr.Coffee, and the fun out of...

FURIANUS: Verily I ask thee, is it not better to speak a truthful utterance which, gods forbid, might contain a remnant of some sexist, racist, homophobic, or even non- macrbiotic(!) thought, than to bite one's tongue, and to never to have spoken up at all?

PUBLIUS: Thou thinkith true, dude! But worse than that, there even be those among us that sayith that they can not bear to hear of ANYTHING that is not TOTALLY POSITIVE, happy, nice, clean, and uplifting!

FURIANUS: They liveth on "Fantasy Island", and the last boat leaveth soon! Have those nice, clean folks walkith out on the streets lately, or do they only knowith the gated cloister of suburbia, or even beyond that, the Alluvian Fields?

PUBLIUS(changing subject): The nerd eunuchs down in the chemistry lab tellith me that that green crap that Polyestas' Eunuch Police giveth to all men to drink, so as to "cleanse our hearts and minds", was nothing more than Pine Sol mixed with Perrier served in a Starbucks' cup!

FURIANUS: I spitith mine out!

PUBLIUS: I too, and upon the Eunucop's saddled elephant's balls. They explodith like two great cannons! Poor thing!

FURIANUS: As for me, I hold to the old adage, "Sometimes Satan cometh as a [wo]man of P.C."

PUBLIUS: I'm sure as shit glad that such a totally un-Political Correctus utterance never sprangeth from MY mouth!

FURIANUS: Many say that the ostentatious empire that George the Idiot buildith is far better that this remnant of democracy that we now float through the air upon. Since the Political Correctus Police taketh over; all society, the government, and dare I even MENTION the education system, fallith upon itself in horrid disarray! Maybe 'tis better we just "go for it", and enslave the rest of the world to do our labor for us, for surely we have lost the ability to do ANYTHING, ourselves!

PUBLIUS: Thou haveth a point, I fear.

FURIANUS: Quiet! "The Great Dog Woman" cometh!

Senator Thomas the Daschle runs up bowing, attempting to kiss Polyestes Correctas' hand.
SENATOR DASCHLE (trembling): Oh "Great Doggy One", how radiantly you shine in our dank halls! How you spread light upon our sullen old ways! How you illuminate...

POLYESTES CORRECTAS (raising her hand to strike Senator Daschle): Cut the crap, Daschle, or I'll let Huevas Rancheras loose on what's left of your family jewels!

Senator Daschle turns white and scampers off to hide behind a column, sneeking peeks out into the hall.

The old '80 BC's group, Devo, has been commissioned by Senators Bruce and Daschle to play for the arrival of Polyestes Correctas. They finally wake up. In this unscheduled, awkward moment they strike up their old hit: "We Are Not Men, We Are PC".

PUBLIUS: Zeus! What a blithering whimp that Daschle beith!

FURIANUS: That's why they call him Daschle; 'cause all you got to do is giveth him the evil eye, and he "daschles" away.

PUBLIUS: Me thinkith that Huevas Rancheras chewith on his family jewels, previously.

FURIANUS: Me thinkith that she sniffith but findith nada.

PUBLIUS: Listen! Senator Bruce maketh his opening statement.

SENATOR BRUCE: Friends, Romans, burly men, lend me your ears! In our mortal presence this very day, walkith the devine, the sublime, the truely fine, "Miss Correctness Incarnates", herself; the immortal "Ms. Hound of the Basketcases"; the "Left-hand Dog-Goddess of the Imperial Gate"; the "Perennial Perra of Political Correctus", ITF; "Ms. Correctness Herself", Polyestes Correctas!
That ought to get all you straight boys erectus!

The Senators go wild (except for Senator Byrdus, who looks away, coughing).

Polyestes Corectas steps up to the mike at the front of the platform with Heuvas Rancheras at her side. Huevas Rancheras surveys the crowd, snarling and slobbering, ready to spring instantly at any "non-believer".
POLYESTES (speaking in a deep, low, rumbling voice): Thank you very much. That's ma Elvis Presley immitation. Thankyouverymuch, ladies and gentlemen.

The crowd goes nuts.

FURIANUS: This sucks! These brainwashed fools are eating out of her hand!

PUBLIUS: 'Tis better to eatith than beith eaten(?).

FURIANUS: I ain't so sure, bro. Look, what are we gonna do? We got our dumb asses elected to this house of cards for six years! These guys are ball-less fruitcakes! How the hell are we supposed to get anything doneth? How are we supposed to relatith to THAT bunch of ass-kissers?

PUBLIUS: Well, you could put thy nuts in a vice, and kissith thy ass good bye. That should maketh you more "normal", by THEIR standards.

POLYESTES CORRECTAS(continuing her speech): ...therefore, I cometh to this noble Senate Chamber today, NOT to praise George W. Caesar Mach II, but to IMPEACH the lying son of a bitch...
Polyestes brings her fist down hard on the podium. The great hall echoes.

The Senators goes apeshit! There's mad yelling and guzzling of Italian wine and French champaigne everywhere. Huevas Rancheras howls. Devo strikes up their hit again.

PUBLIUS: Ejole! That beith the first rational thing I've heard any of these clowns sayith all day! Maybe this babe DOES haveth some balls, after all!

FURIANUS: THAT I have never doubtith.

PUBLIUS: Yeah, but perhaps SHE can unite these directionless, suckass cowards, and make them focus upon regaining the government which they hath so badly squandered and laid, like a lamb, before George Augustus II!

FURIANUS: Yes, friend, but remember who it was that PUT them in this comatose condition to begin with. T'was she, Ms. PC. Me thinkith that Ms.Correctas haveth a plan, that is not so correctus, up her glove.

PUBLIUS: Only time and the paparazzi will tell.

In the far end of the great hall, the gallant Senator Ramus Erectus prepares to step up to the stage to join Senator Bruce, Polyestes Correctas, and Huevas Rancheras.

FURIANUS: Look, 'tis the legendary Ramus Erectus! They say that he is one of the very few men that Polyestes' "magic" potion hath no effect upon. They say that he is as straightforward, lucid, and manly as ALL these men once were.

PUBLIUS: I hearith he pourith his ration of "Happy Green Clean Mind Drink" down Thomas the Daschle's throat.

FURIANUS: I hearith he poured it on those statues that Ashcroft the Soothsayer had covered up.

PUBLIUS: The dude looks like Charlton Heston!

FURIANUS: Verily, he does. But, he thinkith like Michael Moore. They say that if any man haveth the smarts, the soul, the honesty, and the balls to save this raped republic, 'tis Ramus Erectus!

PUBLIUS Pray Zeus that he still can!

NOTES: The curtain falls on Act One. The roar of the crowd fades away. Devo finally quits playing their song. Heuvas Rancheras, at last, quits barking.

Click here for ACT II

(c) 2003 Bill Bohannon all rights reserved