Episode 13

The Formation of a Newfound Glory

(What is a problem if the solution hurts more than the problem? If the people are content with their lives, who is to say their lives are wrong? The questions hurt more than the answers and the answers hurt everything in the entire landscape. What now is this hypocrisy known as democracy, which is made into autocracy, or was it always like this? The thoughts become prayers and the prayers go unanswered because they are prayers to God, not to the TV. And so they end up here, in this wasteland, and they could not be happier. They have nothing and they are pleased and proud over it. They all could see the light at the end of the tunnel, little things that loomed large over the beaten and battered landscape of their homes. For everyone it was different, but yet the same in the choplogic that is 2020 America. Every end is a new beginning and hopefully the signs had been set that the end of Britney was near. Why the tide of public opinion had started to sway for the first time since 2008 was unclear, and the numbers that made it up were few, surely not enough to win an election (if those were ever staged anymore), but enough to start a movement, a revolution, a quick stab to bring down the barriers to slow change. The bridges are now frozen with traffic in days not seen since New York was the commercial hub for everything with roads purposely built to accommodate nothing. But this time the bridges are full of trucks bringing back citizens, each with their own story. The cities of Westchester, Yonkers and New Rochelle, are alive again; the only DMZ left is Rye, heavily guarded by both sides for fear of more wolves cropping up in the deserted forest. They come by the thousands and they come from all over the country, a million new stories for the great new city. The council scrambles to find enough room to accommodate each and every one. The cracks in the wall are showing, and Todd is called over to Gracie Mansion to meet with the Mayor himself to devise a plan.)

Mayor: Mr. Carter, I don't know what you are doing here but whatever it is, it worked.

Todd: We successfully scrambled Britney’s mainframe through the destruction of a subcomputer. She was lowering her defenses here in order to build it.

Mayor: Wanna buy the Brooklyn Bridge?

Todd: What?

Mayor: If you thought that mere force was the reason everything is headed downhill, I figured you might be at least halfway interested in purchasing such a piece of New York history.

Todd: Not really. Then what do you think I did?

Mayor: You showed the weakness in the supreme being. And gods and goddesses, hell, even pagan symbols can’t have weaknesses showing. You, on the other hand, have no weaknesses.

Todd: For someone who fell in love with an open lesbian and was able to be made to destroy entire countries with that love, I find that very hard to believe.

Mayor: Not in life but in reality, Mr. Carter. The reality is that you above anyone else created the stage for the downfall. They still see you as the hero, and for good reason. You DID bring down the greatest fiend the country ever witnessed. But now they see a new threat and by nature, they want you to lead. You will be millions strong, you know and don’t worry about weapons. Every revolution needs a Lafayette.

Todd: Or even a Bouchard.

Mayor: You catch on very well. Very well indeed. You can have Randall’s Island to train your forces.

Todd: Very well then.

Mayor: I suggest your men scour every part of this fine city, for it takes more than one type to win a war. I also suggest that you look at everything moving in. This is a time of great transition and someone needs to lead it. I am not suitable, neither are you, and no way can a woman lead the country at this time. They’re sick of having a female leader after having one for the past 12 years.

(Todd chuckles and smiles)

Todd: Do they know that much?

Mayor: Most likely not, but you never know.

Todd: But the madness…

Mayor: You will have to separate the keen from the mad. It shouldn't be too hard, but even if it is, such is life in forming a new country.

Todd: It is August, and the Blue Jays play the Yankees.

Mayor: You are right in knowing that a symbol through television is the only way to awaken the masses. A little early for an opening volley, though, don’t you think? Besides, I still like the Yankees.

Todd: Our success is the Jays' success. They are the foreign symbol, the Joe Louis to the Max Schmelling who showed America that they COULD defeat the Nazis.

Mayor: And you are Ira Hayes to the public. You remind them that their existing condition does not change with just petty victories, false hope and blinding promises. All right, you can go after Rodney. No one ever liked him.

(That night, live on Channel 7, a lone shot brings down Rodney Alexander at home plate to preserve a 5-4 Blue Jay win. The general public cannot grasp what happened as the scene quickly cuts to commercials. The fans in the stadium turn to the lights, even the blondes in the field boxes, and give a standing ovation to the silhouette in the light fixtures. She takes down the mindless field reporter as a curtain call before disappearing as fast as she appeared, as the entire crowd of 55,000 sang “New York, New York” in unison before turning for home. The headlines hit the papers the next day: “Gay Jay Day” in Newsday, “Rod Rammed” in the Daily News, “Yankee outfielder stricken by sniper in sign of revolution” in the Times and “Devils in the Outfield: Terrorists mar Yankee game, threaten livelihood of all New York” in the Post; the USA Today rambled on on how the Yankee manager arranged the suicide to prevent Rod from joining the Blue Jays after being tagged in the crotch by the Jays shortstop earlier in the game while the National Enquirer ran a story on how heroic Rodney’s wife was to shoot him before he became a faggot. We see the latter two papers become ablaze as Dee and Helen snuggle by a trash fire in Central Park.)

Dee: Man, this is going fast, faster than I ever thought.

Helen: It won’t be until October before we strike. Shouldn’t be too fast for your tired old knees. I knew all that going down on me would come back to haunt you one of these days.

Dee: Very funny, Helen. (They kiss.) C’mon, get up, our meeting is by the model boat pond at 8:30 and we must not be late.

Helen: Aww man, why do we have to do these meetings so late?

Dee: Simple, so we don’t run across any posers who could ruin anything. Only a true rebel would be able to show between 8 and 11.

Helen: I guess that works.

(They head over to the model boat lake and find who they are looking for. On the surface they look like your average Channel 1 family but it quickly becomes apparent that they are something more.)

Dee: So you're from Minnesota?

Father: Yes, it took three days for us to get down here. Are you two, you know, in love?

Helen: Yeah, SO?

Father: Good, I wanted my Jenny to see that there is nothing to fear about dykes.

Helen: Lesbians!

Father: Sorry, we only left Minnesota a few weeks ago. Right after the Olympics, I lost my job because I questioned our labor practices after seeing that great black woman win the 100 meters and proudly say she was coming here to work for minimum wage. I suggested that she could do better at advertising. I was fired on the spot for empowering niggers. Then it clicked with me and my wife. Which reminds me. Jenny, throw out this newspaper.

(Jenny, the 16-year-old blonde, protests.)

Jenny: WHY? I’m no dyke! Why do I have to show this born curse?

Father: Forgive her, she hasn’t started school yet.

Helen: I've heard worse.

Jenny: DADDY! She’s one of them! I got an A on the stages of dyke conversion test, remember? It was even invented at the University of Minnesota! First you are a normal blonde, then you cut your hair short in masculinity, and then you cover up every inch of yourself in stockings to hide the fact that you are soaking wet with…

(The mother has heard enough and throws Jenny into the lake to everyone’s laughter.)

Mother: Like that, dear?

Helen: Wow, that was fast, and I didn’t even lay a finger on her. You really ARE so radiant in your sin, dear. (She winks at Dee, who grumbles somewhat.)

Dee: I take it that before the ban she was a prodigy?

Mother: Good genes. (She takes the rolled up paper and hits a jumper into the trash can 40 feet away with little effort and no help from the rim.)

Helen: Tammy Freer, the Missing Lynx. I haven't seen you in years.

Tammy: What? More people turned up to my games after I retired to have Jenny than before, and I still schooled you in the tournament, and you never got the CHANCE to pull my pants down even if I wasn't too old for you.

(Jenny is then helped out of the lake, soaking wet, her makeup running somewhat, and beet red in embarrassment.)

Jenny: Mom? You played the dyke’s game?

Tammy: Who else would have taught you, some lesbian? (winks)

Jenny: I… guess?

Helen: It’s ok to be confused.

Jenny: I mean, the Lord brought us here! Our whole church is here! Why would he change his teachings? The word of the Lord is final!

Dee: You were brought here by a Church?

Tammy: Otherwise we never would have left. I admit I only sought you out so you could teach my daughter the beautiful game again.

Helen: I think the NYBF’s getting a Central Park expansion team… Who’s this preacher who got thousands to defy Britney and come here?

Tammy: He sent me here to see if you would accept the religious…

Dee: Well, I did kinda work with the cult of the Lady. (winks)

(After getting Jenny a blanket they walk the few blocks to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The pews are full with blondes, but it is obvious that they have been camping there for a few days.)

Dee: The Catholics let you use the cathedral?

Tammy: It was the only sacred home we could find away from the TVs and lights of the other churches. Ah, in here.

(Tammy opens one of the confessional booths and Dee and Helen step inside.)

Dee: Bless us, Father, for we have sinned.

Helen: And sinned…and sinned and sinned.

Dee: Helen!

(The screen slides open and the pastor is sitting in a plaid shirt and blue jeans)

Dee: Well, you have your shirt on straight, that’s a start.

Pastor: You must be Dee Clay of the revolutionaries. I was told to seek you out by the priests here. My congregation calls me the Plaid Pope, but you can simply call me Rob.

Helen: What, no last name, no fancy dedication to Jesus, no swinging from the rafters on a crucifix or walking through crosses? Bor-ing!

Dee: Helen! Be nice!

Helen: I am! Did I ask how the altar boys were?

Dee: Please forgive Helen. She has not forgiven the Lord for the pain inflicted on her in His name.

Rob: I understand, I know you have.

Dee: Father Andy tell you I was a regular?

Rob: Yes. I was told you would understand our total dedication to God and that is why we must crusade against the blasphemy being waged on the home front, and not the enemy of the people. This is a far cry from most, hence why we have taken sanctuary in the house of the Lord.

Helen: So you like God, so you hate God’s country?

Rob: God is not present in one country, but all over the one earth that he created and let us evolve in. I do not know if he intended for you two to exist, and I do not know if he intended for war to be the answer, but I do know that he spoke out for peace in the face of war and to turn the other cheek against sinners. He was a god of forgiveness and peace, not war and genocide. It is worse than you can ever know now. I split from the church of 5,000 I was told to run. Half abandoned me and called me a blasphemer, the rest stayed behind and followed me here, because I couldn’t- no, wouldn’t kill the family who I sent to find you.

Dee: What?

Rob: They ordered me to kill both Tammy and Jenny, and they both surrendered themselves to me to be hung that Sunday in church for playing the devil’s game and therefore being poisoned, even slightly, by the devil’s lust. They were loyal and honest, and Tammy was a devout Christian from the time I could remember as a young man in seminary. So in the name of forgiveness I shot myself. It jarred enough people so half stayed.

Helen: And you are talking to us cuz an angel came down and emptied your gun? Uh-huh.

Rob: I shot myself not in suicide but in penance for all committing such actions. (He waves behind himself and a young man hands him crutches and he stands, making the large cast on his right leg visible.) I admit that it wasn’t the wisest of decisions, but it was fulfilling. They even brought their children; most are in school being taught the true meaning of faith. Only the more mature ones are staying here.

Dee: Are you willing to take up arms?

Rob: I only crusade in what is just. But if anyone in my congregation wishes to do so, I will give them a full blessing. From what I have been hearing, there will be plenty to go around.

Dee: That’s good enough.

(Dee hands Rob the recruitment flyer. The scene shifts to Terrell who is in Harlem waiting for his meeting with Chris and Bree in tow.)

Terrell: So, you sure these guys and girls are going to be busted out?

Chris: Yeah, they should, they all came here looking for lost mates. It was clear from the web site profiles what the problem was.

Bree: Yeah, they were starving from not enough chocolate in their diet. (Kisses Chris)

Terrell: Right, umm, you sure you don’t need a room too?

Chris: It’s a side effect. We cling close so the machine can't tear us apart.

Bree: Ohhh, it has its benefits, though.

(The two buses meet at the hotel, one with white men and women another with black men and women. Bree squeezes Chris’s hand at the sight of the couples, some who are older and had children before being torn apart by Britney, reuniting in bliss.)

Terrell: Wow!

Bree: A lot of them were in love for years, some even were married. Their bliss will turn to anger at their separation after they…ummm, fully rediscover what they missed. Ain’t that right, dear?

Chris: Yeah. Once they shed their skins and become a couple once again, they will be more than happy to fight to keep their union.

(The scene then shifts to Whitey and Ames, who are deep in the Ames Mall. Suddenly a young man runs in.)

Man: Mr. Ames! Come outside, quick!

Ames: Now what's the big to-do here? Can’t you see we're plotting a war here, son?

Man: That’s just it.

Whitey: SHIT! The government!

Man: No! Even better.

Ames: What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?

(Ames and Whitey walk out to the balcony where they see thousands of people lined up. All of them are blonde, but some have faded out more than others. A rousing ovation greets Ames as he walks out.)

Man: They are here to see you…ALL OF THEM.

Ames: What? I’m just a journalist. Whitey, get me a megaphone.

(Whitey grabs a megaphone and hands it to Ames)

Ames: Good evening, folks!

(The crowd goes silent.)

Ames: I reckon that you all had some reason not to be parked in front of your TV set at 9 at night and you aren’t native folks. I can tell that by the color of your hair.

(Wild whooping from the back is heard in protest.)

Ames: Well golly gee, except for the Sioux back there! I didn’t quite see you! Now I take it you all have questions that brought you here. So let's start, one group at the time. (Aside to Whitey) They see me as the last resort of the TV, get Todd here toot sweet!

Whitey: Anything wrong?

Ames: Hell no, everything’s right! What we have here is an ARMY, and there are more than just those who are here.

(Ames grabs the megaphone and speaks again.)

Ames: So! Who’s here from Wisconsin or Mizzou?

(Some cheers are heard and a “we want beer” chant starts up.)

Ames: Well, of course you do! You made your livelihood off of drinking and they plum take it away! I bet you’re poor too. Yep, well, I see cops in riot gear… hey, Mickey! Share the wealth and get some kegs down here for our fine-brewing friends. Now I see some guys waving the Stars and Bars! Careful with that thing, those things aren’t taken very politely up here. But I’ll be damned if they didn’t try to strip you of your identity too, leave you working class folks with nothing but a loaf of bread and a pound of hope. Yeah, Channel 10 didn’t make you too much money and you just kept losing your farmland to Wally’s. We know how it's been: a Wally's on every corner, a farmer in every poor house, and a farmer’s daughter in every rich man’s bed. Well, that’s about as American as the Stars and Bars and that’s to say NOT AT ALL!

(Loud cheers as they quickly put away the Confederate flags.)

Ames: You want to work to live, not get fat off of overpriced fast food. It used to be you grew your own meals and gave the rest to feed the country and instead they just made you about as shamed an outcast as the colored people!

(More loud cheering)

Ames: Now speaking of which, I see a large group of fine blacks. Detroit, right? I can tell by your UAW caps. Being told to work for the man, the white man, and let your women work, all day and all night until you die! Make the minimum wage doing dangerous work that they hoped WOULD kill you so they wouldn’t have to feed you welfare. For what? Because you don’t look like Britney? Well, I tell you what…all y'all go down to 49th and 7th, and ask the woman at the counter if you look like Britney, and you may just be shocked at the answer!

(Ames keeps speeching the crowd as the scene shifts to Bouchard in Brooklyn, near BAM, where he hears the best jazz band he has heard in his life. He realizes that this is his contact and he walks forward to greet them all. They are the strangest lot, to say the least. Most all of them are black but there are some whites mixed in. The women are all dressed in large black or navy blue suits with large brimmed hats and white shirts. The men are in tight pants, platform shoes, scanty halter tops and blonde wigs. All of them wear strands and strands of multicolored beads that mark their location. Some are also wearing jester hats. All of them carry various musical instruments and from what Bouchard heard earlier, were all at one time well-trained musicians. Bouchard’s heart sinks a little as he approaches them. While any rebel would do, he had been hoping for the straight who broke out of Britney rather than the gay who returned home. He still finds them useful, though, and he introduces himself.)

Bouchard: Hello, monsieur, madame.

(The trumpet player in the blonde wig notices his hesitation and quickly takes off his gloves. One of the women does the same to reveal matching wedding bands, and the man laughs whole-heartedly before speaking in a raspy and bluesy voice)

Trumpet Player: Heeeyyy there, satchmo! You must’ve thought we were playing the flute or the harp there! Nahh, not us, not now. We just dress this way when there is a reason to celebrate. That’s what we always did down in Naw’lins, and that’s what we will do here in Naw’yark. Lionel San Louis, you can just call me Old St. Lou, and this is my lovely wife Ella.

Bouchard: Pleased to meet you both. Are you from Kentwood? Or New Orleans?

Old St. Lou: Don’t ya mean Naw’lins or Baton Rouge?

Bouchard: You are from Mississippi?

(The band leers at Bouchard and he can plainly see the concealed weapons in their instrument cases ready to fire.)

Old St. Lou: Take 5, boys, he ain't from the bayou. No, we are the Jesters of Kentwood, the TRUE pride of Naw’lins! We all were born in Naw’lins and shook our fists at Katrina when she tried to destroy Naw’lins, we rebuilt Naw’lins and we kept Naw’lins when Britney tried to make it her home, hence the odd costumes we play in. It kinda makes even the blondest blonde think a little. And if you think you may listen, and if you listen you may hear the words, and if you hear the words you may understand them…and understand that we are not a jazz band, we’re a blues band. We are blue because God tested us and tried to take away our home, but we stood up and showed we were worthy of our home and rebuilt Naw’lins with pride! And then some bimbo comes along and wants to make it her playground for all her little chullin! Wants us to move to Baton Rouge and have her call it Naw’lins, have Baton Rouge be for the real rot out there and get them out of there in Mississippi where the Army could reach them and make them into guns. You know this started right after Katrina. So answer me this (he holds up a loaf of bread) who stole dis bread and who found dis bread?

Bouchard: Ummm, you got it from the zookeepers. Who else scores crosses into their loaves in these parts?

Old St. Lou: Naw, ya see, we niggers, we STEAL the bread, you white folk, you FIND the bread. So you get to have homes and beautiful developments while we are moved around from home to home to home, have the army take our friends and family and make them into cannon fodder to kill so they don’t have to worry 'bout feeding them. The government makes sure all their people are safe and warm, us they let us rot and die in the football stadium. Yeah, ain’t a damn thing changed from Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Britney, one took our lives, the other took our souls, but WE survived both. We never left Naw’lins, we stayed and we played and we lived. We’re here because we heard you were going to get Britney the hell out of our home and HOT DIGGITY, that’s worth singing bout…a one…a two…a one-two-three!

(The band bursts into a soulful rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” and Bouchard smiles and walks away knowing he has hundreds of displaced Louisianans at his disposal. The scene shifts to Whitey, who is walking past Roosevelt Hospital when he is thrown against the wall and handcuffed by the NYPD.)

Whitey: What the hell?

Officer: Don’t give me dat, Kincaid, we know all about you and your poisons, it’s what got you into New York from China to begin with. We warned you no more poisoning and you decide to do it anyway.

Whitey: I haven’t drugged people since the end of the Chinese War! I don’t even know how! I was the subliminal part of the team! My dad had all the formulas! He was the scientist, I was the ad man! So what the hell are you talking about?

Officer: Oh, look in here, look at all these blondes puking. Don’t tell me you didn’t slip something into the O’Reilly's again, not even a virus or parasite?

Whitey: If your guys didn't get them drunk, that just means someone played with the timers and gave everyone E. Coli again. If you ran out of antibiotics, I’ll have some flown in from Canada tomorrow.

Officer: Nice try, they be heaving like they’re trying to shed every ounce of themselves, like they were coming down from heroin.

Whitey: Men or women?

Officer: Mostly girls, now that you mention.

Whitey: Girls because they are young or girls as in objects with tits?

Officer: Mostly in their teens and 20s, the type who wear jeans instead of dresses, not married.

Whitey: Oh my God! Let me go! Get every healthful thing you can think of and get every shrink, gay, straight, and otherwise over to the hospitals.

Officer: You know what’s happening?

Whitey: They see themselves. They were distorted into Britney’s body image and now the only disease that Britney eradicated is back. Bulimia. All that fat from the O’Reilly's can’t help either.

Officer: Model weight sickness? Last time I heard of that, aye, I was sober.

Whitey: Britney created, Britney took it away, Britney came again with it. Here, call the Vera Hope Bakery, 212-666-4673.

Officer: I doubt they’d touch cake if they're so concerned with fat.

Whitey: Drunk! Vera Brown is an expert in post-Britney withdrawal and trauma. She mostly dealt with the HOPE camps, but after they closed she dealt with other withdrawal cases too.

Officer: Ok, you can go then.

(Whitey runs off to tell Todd everything. Meanwhile, Dee and Helen are on their way back home when a distraught black woman runs at them.)

Ashley: Dee! Dee…they’re back.

Dee: Who? Ashley, my God! What happened?

Ashley: I can’t take it anymore. The wolves are going to get me if I don’t hide.

Dee: Calm down! What’s upsetting you?

Ashley: It’s the new people. They- they can’t talk and I’m losing my mind.

Helen: Well…

Dee: Enough, Helen!

Ashley: It’s their speaking! They call me a Husky, they won’t stop, even when I beg, and then the grammar. Nook-a-lar, skeered, ain’t, ain’t, and more ain’t! So many corrections… so much red… (She begins shaking.)

Dee: (holds her steady) Shhhh, shhhh.

Ashley: And then there’s my own people! Oh my God, everything is schnizzle this, izzle that, sho is fine, po’me, all that language, and they can’t make a sentence without saying the F word. As if that’s a mark they have to tell everyone “we’re inferior to you, that’s why we cuss”. One black student would make the most elegant sentences and then finish them off with “f yeah” or “don’t ya fn know, sista”. And the whites are just as bad! I can drown out the likes, but my God, the sentence structure! They’re so trained out of any form of speech, it’s like I need an interpreter, and I feel the old urge...

Helen: Well, if that’s just your problem, Dee, wanna threesome with your former teammate?

Ashley: Not THOSE kinds of urges, Helen, you know that. I'm losing control, and, well, I was in the same class as Sister D.

Dee: That bad, huh? It must be the worst at St. John's. Have you called your Canadian friend?

Ashley: You mean Cindy?

Dee: She’s good at training out blondes. I’ll fly her down- I think she misses the city. Meanwhile, try teaching some English. Their minds are impressionable enough that they should accept new teaching okay now. I've been noticing that recently. They got lazy with their programming, making them easier to deprogram.

(The scene shifts back to Terrell, who is walking back through Harlem on his way to a subway where he sees a bunch of women in skirtsuits carrying briefcases. They are all colors, although their hair is still somewhat blonde. Some are old and some are young. He approaches them.)

Terrell: Heeyyy, ladies, a little late to be doing business, isn’t it?

Woman: Mind your manners, we’re going to serve these papers on the fiend who kidnapped us for 12 years. No street person is going to stop us at this.

(Terrell quickly realizes that these are all professional women, mostly lawyers, who were forced into giving up their careers for being housewives, much like he gave up his career for being a bum and a pot smoker to avoid Britney. He speaks to them in something only a lawyer can understand and they realize that he too was altered by Britney and speak to him with a kinder tongue.)

Woman: So who's the perpetrator who locked us away for all this time?

Terrell: It is the fault not of the people but those sworn to protect it to the fullest extent of the law. Come with me, I will show you someone who can help.

(The scene now shifts back to the Ames Mall with everyone meeting there. Ames has held the growing crowd as long as he can when Todd finally shows up with Whitey. He takes the podium and everyone, New Yorker and otherwise, stands at attention.)

Todd: Through these times, we were told only one thing, we were the ones who were right. I was the hero, you were God’s children and this, THIS was God’s country. We ate God’s food, we watched God’s television, we drove his cars, we crossed his bridges, built his roads, worked his jobs, spent his money, and for what? More importantly for WHO? Every brand a graven image, every act of hate a sin. We died for companies. We went to war for companies, we killed our friends, we raped our daughters, all for what notion? That some are superior than others? I led you into this. I am as much this mythical Britney as anyone else here in this world. The fact that you came here to see me, to see ME! Is an honor in and of itself. I am not the one who set you free. You all came here for different reasons, but within those different reasons there is one actual and self evident truth. That all men are created equal. That we are given certain inalienable rights and those rights are being violated. Life: up at 7, fuck at 12, bed right after every second scripted around that little black box. Every task assigned, no creativity, everything by a formula. Everything's like that person on the TV who you don’t even know if they really exist. Every girl a blonde, every woman a wife, every wife a mother three times over. It sounds good on TV, but TV is not a world. Life is more than a script or it would not be life, it would be fiction, fiction like the girls on TV. Liberty, what a name to mean so little. Everything is watched and restricted for security. But security is the opposite of liberty, and security does not even exist. One visit to a port should tell you that much. Green lines that you pay for, everyone eating the same food, wearing the same clothes, is that liberty or tyranny? Killing someone for who they love? I’m not even talking about gays (points at Chris and Bree) I am talking about a man and a woman who love each other and want to become man and wife. Look at Dee Clay, the same way I looked at Dee Clay. Can you deny that she is in love? This is not some curse, this is not Satan, this is FREEDOM! What Pete Richardson said he would preserve, he has come out and let it be slain right in our own faces! How many of you knew what a HOPE camp was? Most of you, that is why you are here. How many of you knew, reported, shot, killed, tried to reform, or even raped a homosexual? To those who said yes, WHY? Because some old book told you to. Or was it the television? To the women, do you remember what it was like to strive to be equal? I ask the same of the black people and the Hispanic people. Asians, I ask if you remember when life was worth living? What about the pursuit of happiness? Are you happier now than you were 12 years ago? Were you happy when your wife was just a puppet, a sex toy, and maybe if she followed the label on the box right, a decent enough cook? And to the women I ask the same question. Were you happy when you were just a puppet, or a sex toy, or if you followed the label on the box right, a decent enough cook? Did it matter? Did you care? Did you care who churned out 3 and a half kids, sent them to learn what you knew in the back of your head was wrong? Is that pursuing happiness? Is that life, and is that liberty? If you answered no, I say follow the man who led you to that abyss and follow me to return America to what it was before 2000, before the credit card debt, before the economic ruin, before war and homophobia and before hate robbed us of our senses. Follow me, and this can become God’s country once again!

(The crowd applauds and the scene fades out.)