The President’s Orders

August 8, 2011 Matthew Callan

Hello, this is Capitol Hill Pizza Hut, home of the endless buffalo buffet. May I take your order?

I want to be clear about this. I want a two large pies, one Meat Lovers, one with peppers, mushrooms, and extra garlic. The American people deserve no less.

Okay, that’ll be $24.50.

The Meat Lovers pie is off the table. Never let it be said that this president can not compromise.

You don’t have to compromise. You’re the president; you can order whatever you want.

No, no, just the large pie with peppers, mushrooms, and extra garlic. In the spirit of compromise, however, I might be persuaded to ditch the extra garlic.

If you want extra garlic, you should get extra garlic.

Fine, no extra garlic. You drive a hard bargain, but I think bipartisanship at all costs in all of our best interests.

Okay, so one large pie with peppers and mushrooms.

Make it a medium. With just the mushrooms.

You sure about that? You seem less and less hungry each time…

I will order one breadstick, and that’s my final offer.

If that’s what you want. With one breadstick, your total is 89 cents.

This breadstick will ensure the prosperity of our great nation for years to come.

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 10

August 5, 2011 Matthew Callan

LOGLINE: Once the nation’s best and most respected baseball GM, Sandy Alderson has been reduced to trying to revive a moribund franchise in the depths of deepest, darkest Queens. Along with his sharp-witted and adoring protégés, he fights off the seemingly endless series of controversies and crises that beset him while trying to run a sports team in the country’s most bustling metropolis, and still look fantastic while doing it. Can the pressures of such an important job crush this singularly talented and gifted individual genius?

ACT I

The office. J.P. RICCIARDI, PAUL DEPODESTA, and MACKENZIE CARLIN sit in a bank of cubes, typing away on their computers with their backs to one another.

DEPODESTA
Do you ever feel completely meaningless?

RICCIARDI
No, that’s just you.

DEPODESTA
I’m serious. Sometimes I feel like I’m just here to serve others.

RICCIARDI
Yes, your boss. It’s called “having a job.”

DEPODESTA
No, I mean it just feels like I’m here to advance a plot. You know, so someone else can have a person to bounce dialogue off of.

CARLIN
Not me. I am fully in charge of my own universe.

DEPODESTA
How do you know that? How do you know you’re not some bit player in a drama that’s not even about you? Like, the camera just lingers on you only when you’re talking to the “star,” and the rest of your existence is completely without meaning or purpose?

CARLIN
I have never thought that in my entire life. I went to Harvard!

A large man covered in head to toe in umpire’s gear, including mask, quickly zips past their cube bank. Only DEPODESTA seems to notice him.

DEPODESTA
Did you guys see that?

CARLIN
See what?

DEPODESTA
An umpire just ran by.

RICCIARDI
Umpires aren’t allowed inside front offices. You know that.

DEPODESTA
So maybe we should report him.

CARLIN
If it’s a problem, I’m sure someone will take care of it.

DEPODESTA
Don’t you understand? This is our chance to be part of the drama, to act before the camera cuts away!

Cut to: SANDY ALDERSON’s office. He sits at his desk, talking on the phone. Bright sunlight trails in from his windows, and we see a beautiful green ballfield cascading off into the distance behind him.

ALDERSON
Yes, you can quote me on that…Yes, I do believe that before the decade is out, there will be a cyborg in the major leagues, and I have no issue with that…Should cyborgs be allowed to take performance enhancing drugs? Well, that’s a separate issue. Let’s wait until cyborgs actually exist before we tackle that conundrum.

The UMPIRE kicks down ALDERSON’s office door.

ALDERSON
Excuse me, I’m having a private and extremely hypothetical discussion here.

The UMPIRE pulls a gun from his pocket, walks over to ALDERSON’s desk, grabs the phone with his free hand, and hangs it up.

ALDERSON
Mike Lupica is going to be very upset if he thinks I hung up on him.

UMPIRE
You’d do better to concern yourself with the gun I have pointed at you, Mr. Alderson.

ALDERSON
I’ve spent some time in the Marines, sir, so I try not to worry about guns until they go off. Didn’t catch your name, by the way.

UMPIRE
My name is not important. I am foot soldier in the Arbiters Liberation Army, and I’m here to take you hostage.

ALDERSON
Would Ted be okay? I’ve always liked the name Ted.

UMPIRE
Your glibness will not save you, Mr. Alderson. This is a very serious matter, and I suggest you take it as such, because I have no qualms about ventilating your smug little body.

ALDERSON
Forgive me. I was in 17 hostage situations last season alone, so I forget it’s not a complete bore to everyone. Please, sit on my couch, put your feet up. I imagine we’re going to be here for a while as you make your demands and lecture me on something or other.

UMPIRE
SILENCE! I am in charge of this situation! I will not be condescended to by my hostage and I WILL be heard! But I am a little tired after skulking all the way here, so if you don’t mind…

ALDERSON
By all means.

The UMPIRE sits down on ALDERSON’s couch and takes off his shoes.

UMPIRE
Oof. My dogs are barkin’ today.

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 10 →

Pointless Nostalgia

Lionel’s Puppy and Kitty City, Cop Accents, and the Funniest Sentence Ever

August 5, 2011 Matthew Callan 2 Comments

On last night’s episode of Project Runway (look, I make The Wife watch enough horrible Mets games; I can sit through some competition-based reality TV now and again), the designers were tasked with making outfits comprised of materials found in a pet store. One contestant opted to make them out of a housebreaking product for dogs referred to as “wee-wee pads”.

Hearing “wee-wee pads” cracked me the hell up. Because aside from being obviously hilarious in and of itself, the phrase “wee-wee pads” reminded me of something I hadn’t thought about in years: Lionel’s Puppy and Kitty City. Or rather, an ad for this establishment that ran on local TV during my youth.

It was an ultra-low budget production, one that I’m not sure legally qualifies as a commercial. Really, it was a slideshow of pics from the exterior and interior of a pet store in Brooklyn, and its running time was no longer than 10 seconds. The reason I still remember this ad is thanks to the voice-over genius who read along with the slideshow. A low-toned, emotionless narrator urged you to come down to Lionel’s Puppy and Kitty City on 86th Street in Bensonhurst for all your pet needs, in a very thick Cop Accent.

If you’re not from the NYC area, a Cop Accent is a very particular Brooklyn-y, Bronx-y dialect in which the speaker sounds gruff yet subdued, usually because their words meet slight resistance from a substantial mustache. (Think Christopher Guest doing his “I hate when that happens” routine.) I grew up in a town where everyone’s dad, it seemed, has a Cop Accent. You could also hear it on the local news all the time, when an NYPD spokesman relayed the finer details of a horrifying crime in as bored a voice as possible. “And den de alleged perpetratahs beat de 87-year-old woman into a coma with her own cane…”

That’s the kind of voice this narrator had. Which is why I would always lose it when, at the very end of the commercial, the narrator with the Cop Accent would mumble. “Free housebreaking wee-wee pads with every purchase.”

When Project Runway gave me Lionel’s Puppy and Kitty City flashbacks, I reminded The Wife of this golden piece of cinema. She recalled this ad as well, though we were in dispute as to when it aired. I feel like it was strictly a late night commercial, appearing in the SNL/Showtime at the Apollo window, while she swears she saw it during afternoon cartoons. I feel like she can’t be right, because if an ad that prominently featured a man nonchalantly mentioning “housebreaking wee-wee pads with every purchase” in the post-school time slot, kids would have gone to the hospital in droves for laughing themselves sick.

Sadly, among the Vast and Dusty Scratchbomb VHS Archives, I have yet to locate video evidence that this thing actually existed. Googling provided me no evidence, either; the closest thing I could find was link to someone’s Facebook post where they mentioned “free housebreaking wee-wee pads,” but the link was sadly broken. For the moment, my wife’s mutual memory is its only corroboration. But I assure you, it is one of the most simply hilarious things you could ever hope to see. If you remember what I’m talking about, just leave a note in the comments section so I know that I am not alone. And if anyone out there actually has this on tape somewhere, I will pay in the dozens to see it again!

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A potentially explosive collection of verbal irritants