BEATNIK HOLLYWOOD

the place: a slightly run-down 1960's coffeehouse....somewhere in the midwest.....it is slightly damp and very dim (of course it is - 60 watt bulbs don't put out much light!).....there is a small stage over in the corner where a skinny guy dressed all in black is sitting cross-legged on the floor loudly playing a set of bongo drums. (he doesn't seem to have any particular beat in mind, but he is hitting them anyway). At the front of the stage stands a second man, also dressed in black from head to toe. You can tell he is the 'star' of the show,though, because he is also wearing a red velvet beret.

suddenly, the drumming gets a little quieter.....a spotlight (of sorts) hits the featured performer. [actually, the spotlight is burned out. Albert the janitor is standing behind the curtain shining his flashlight onto the man with the beret who now begins to speak]:

"people! people! ....... hear my cry!.....heed my warning true......
don't sell your soul to Hollywood, man.....it won't do nothing for YOU!.....

these things they call movies..... pictures on a screen......
they glorify evil..... the greed..... the mean.....

films are the work of the devil, man.....
they'll surely corrupt you if they can.....

stand up to Hollywood....brother, listen to me.....
don't rent no video...no dvd.....

the satellite...the cable dish....don't look! don't look!
just stay in your home.....just read a good book."


the scene fades to black. the drumming stops. from the darkness we hear a voice. it is the voice of the protaganist we have been watching so intently. in a tone of sadness and despair, he manages to emit these last seven gloomy words: "it's the end, man.....the living end"