The Arabian Nights
Dubya Baba and the Forty Thieves
Act Four
SCENE 1:
On the banks of the Euphrates a division of Shriners and Elks is getting homesick for Peoria, IL . They sing: (to tune of Take me back to the Ball Game)
Take me back to the Far-off Land,
Take me back to my home!
Bless all the muftis and mullahs and sheiks,
But take us back to our wives and clam bakes.
For it's now farewell to the turkey shoot
To Sunnis and Shias that loot.
And it's one, two, three strikes you're out
In the Mesopotamian plain!
SCENE 2:
A White House set in a secret location somewhere in the Far-off Land. Dubya Baba, Cheney Baba, his Vizir and Minister for Lamp Oil Interests, are conferring with Rhum Baba, who now has the sobriquet "Hammer of All Evil Moslems".
Rhum Baba:
No, we haven’t been able to prove that Saddam the Horrible was sending Camels of Mass Destruction to our shores, Great Leader, nor have we found a single putrefying camel in Mesopotamia. Come to think of it, the camels are looking healthier than the human beings. They don’t generally catch cholera, of course.
Cheney Baba:
Are you saying…?
Rhum Baba:
I fear so. He was in compliance with international (that is, our) rules, and seems to have destroyed every maggot-ridden camel, even the Mother of all Swords he boasted about.
Dubya Baba:
That blows it! Yessir.
Rhum Baba:
Don’t worry, Great Leader, we are unearthing mounds of skeletons, innocent people killed during Saddam’s brutal regime.
Dubya:
Newish, are they?
Rhum :
Not exactly, varies a bit. Some recent, some, well, older.
Cheney Baba:
You mean, dead around the time we sold them those nasty gases?
Rhum Baba:
Well er…yup. But we can spin it.
Cheney Baba:
Don’t count on it.
Dubya Baba:
Aw, shucks, Dickey. I can sell anything. Back in the good ole days we got rid of the Di-vine Right of Kings and sub-stituted the Divine Right of Great Leaders. Now most folks in the Far-off land give me a 72% approval rating whatever I do.
Cheney Baba:
We gotta problem, or at least, we should have a problem. We need a new casus belli.
Dubya Baba:
Casus belli? Like pork bellies?
Cheney Baba (to Rhum, ignoring Dubya):
See to it, Rhummy! Find a new reason for the war and occupation, and make it fast!
SCENE 3:
Enter a flock of sheep from Alabamy, bleating:
All:
Singing no, nay, never, no nay never no more,
Will I vote democratic, no never, no more.
For though Dubya might fleece us and make us all poor,
We are very unlikely to show him the door.
Singing no, nay, never, no nay never no more,
Will I vote democratic, no never, no more.
Solo:
And although all my rights may be left of the shelf
It is easier than having to think for myself.
All:
Singing no, nay, never, no nay never no more
Will I vote democratic, no never, no more.
He's a good Southern frat boy, you can tell it is true,
By the number of enemies he's getting through.
We like the diversion of plenty of wars,
It takes our minds off of our everyday chores.
Singing no, nay, never, no nay never no more
Will I vote democratic, no never, no more.
(Don't matter if you don't know the tune, jus sing along like cowboys round the old camp fire)
SCENE 4:
The Ziggurat of Ur. Enter Backlash, a creature of the deposed Caliph, Saddam (now in hiding under a restaurant, you know, just two blocks away from the Imperial Headquarters of the Far-off Land in storied Baghdad). Backlash approaches a group of Very Important Thinkers from the Far-off Land Enterprise Institute, on an expenses-paid (by the taxpayer) freebie to inspect the new Empire.
Backlash:
Psst!
Wolfy Baba:
Who are you?
Backlash:
I am a Mesopotamian opposition leader, and I have information.
Wolfy Baba:
What about? We’ve been planning the new empire for weeks and know everything, the hallmark of our group.
Backlash:
I have news of a secret about Saddam. It could make you rich.
Luminous Pearle:
Now he’s talking!
Pure Krystal:
Well, spit it out!
Backlash:
First I need a high profile job.
Luminous Pearl:
How about Mayor of Najaf? It’s some kind of holy city.
Backlash:
Done. Saddam has use of a Wonderful Lamp. You rub it and a genie appears and gives you three wishes – money, power, beautiful virgins, lunchtime threesomes in hotels, anything you fancy….
Pure Krystal:
We leave that sort of thing to our elected representatives.
Shimmering Saphire:
And where is this lamp of yours?
Backlash:
It is in… aaaagh!
Backlash dies of some unnecessary tropical disease, caused by the inability of the forces of the Far-off Land to organize an alcoholic over-indulgence in a brewery.
Wolfy Baba:
A wonderful lamp! Blame it on the Wonderful Lamp…secret weapon…mass destruction…. more fear back home…another four years! Rhummy will love this. But how do we get our hands on it?
SCENE 5:
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Former members of the Ba'ath Party are suspended from the branches.
Enter General Flanks, Blair Baba, Mustapha Jellybean, and Garner Baba (now called Bremer Baba III. He's called "the third" because he's there as sort of king).
Flanks:
It’s not my job to stop revenge killings. That’s police work.
Mustapha:
No it isn’t. It’s Bremer Baba III’s job.
Bremer Baba III:
No it isn’t. It’s the military’s job.
Flanks:
You can’t expect us to do everything. We’ve only got half a million men to cover a country the size of California.
Mustapha:
Why didn’t you bring in military police?
Flanks:
Rhummy said it wasn’t necessary. The people would rise up, greet us with kisses and immediately organize orderly elections of freedom-loving admirers of the Far-off Land.
Blair Baba:
What you need is a soccer match. That will take their mind off it.
Bremer Baba III:
Off of it.
Blair Baba:
Pardon me?
Flanks:
Who are you, anyway?
Blair Baba:
The Prime Minister of England
Bremer Baba III:
Never heard of it.
Enter a crazed Attorney General. Sings:
Let the bald-headed Eagle soar
For twenty thousand years or more
This land ever will be free
From shining sea to shining sea.
Attorney General (muttering to himself):
What, thirteen years old? So keep him in jail till he’s eighteen and then electrocute the little beggar!
SCENE 6:
Baghdad. A palace, impenetrably surrounded by watchtowers and barbed wire. A press conference is taking place. This is Ari SpinBaba's last press conference. Like everyone else, he is being replaced. Even he has his limits.
Shimmering Saphire:
And what is the message today, Ari?
Ari SpinBaba:
The Far-off land is threatened by a secret weapon that causes the deaths of millions of Far-off mothers and children and could contaminate apple pie for generations.
Pure Krystal:
Shock! Horror!
Ari SpinBaba:
The President has always said that we have to protect our major industries – weapon production, jails, habit-forming drugs, porn-on-the-web, and, of course, lamp oil – and he will not rest until the Far-off land is safe for all our people, even the poor.
Shimmering Saphire:
Don’t it make you proud?
Kraut-thunder:
The ONLY world superpower!
Pure Krystal:
Bringing freedom, peace and prosperity!
Shimmering Saphire:
And demockery!
An ancient lady reporter (thinks):
To understand all this you have to realize that when these people say something, anything, what they intend is precisely the opposite.
Ari SpinBaba (also thinks):
Aren’t they going to ask me what this weapon is?)
SCENE 7:
A seaside location by the Arabian Gulf. Aladdin enters disheveled and out of breath, holding his Wonderful Lamp. He is being pursued, on one hand by elements of the Muharabat (Soddam's Secret Service), and on the other hand by the CIA, the FBI and some 12 other competing secret services, in the pay of the Great Leader. We do not see them on-stage (we need to save money), but, be assured, as usual no one has a clue what's going on. Some think they are looking for a Wonderful Lamp, others think it is a Wonderful Lamb.
Aladdin rubs the Lamp. The Genie appears.
Genie:
What is your wish, Oh Master?
Aladdin:
I have a problem here, Genie. One crowd, the infidel invaders, blame you and the lamp for causing the war. If they find you they’ll convert you into a traffic light on Route One in Virginia.
Genie:
You’re joking! Not that of all things! A fate worse than extinction.
Aladdin:
The other bunch, Saddam’s thugs and murderers want to find you and take you back to Saddam. As everyone by now knows, he’s hiding under a restaurant just two blocks away from the Imperial Headquarters of the Far-off Land in storied Baghdad. If they find you, Saddam will demand that you restore his regime and throw out the Crusaders.
Genie:
Which is worse? Damned if I know. (thinks for a while) Ah I have a plan!
What is the Genie’s plan? How will he and the Wonderful Lamp escape capture? Will Dubya Baba’s re-election be a walkover whatever he does? Will Saddam’s order of Big Mac and fries be delivered in time from the restaurant just two blocks away from the Imperial Headquarters of the Far-off Land in storied Baghdad? How are we going to get rid of Cheney Baba, not to mention the time-servers and right wing bovver-boys on the Sunday talk shows?
SCENE 8:
A lavish mansion in the Hamptons, near New York. The walls are covered with execrable art, and there is Louis Quinze furniture all over the place. Enter Mohammed Saaed al Sahfah bin Whatsit, former Court Liar to the Caliph of Mesopotamia.
Mohammed:
I have news, Wondrous One.
Saddam the Horrible (once Caliph, now Ruler of these great United States of America):
Don’t bother me while I’m making out bank paying-in slips for checks from special interests groups.
Mohammed:
This news is serious, Great Leader.
Saddam:
If I can’t be whisked onto a servant galley in full military cuneiform and give a speech looking heroic, forget it.
Mohammed:
The Mexicans have invaded, my lord. They’ve reached Texas, but we’re hoping that corruption and De Lay will induce them to retire in disgust.
Saddam:
So why bother me?
Mohammed:
Because there’s a pincer movement. The Canadians, fed up with being invisible, have invaded and are attacking all Sports Utility Ve-hi-cles between here and Schenectedy.
Saddam:
They’re not supposed to do that. They’re supposed to be boring, multi-cultural, law-abiding and do what they’re told.
Mohammed:
Apparently, there’s only so much they can take. It’s tough living next to the Greatest Ever Country in the History of the World.
SCENE 9:
A palace in storied Baghdad. The walls are covered with execrable art. There is Louis Quinze furniture all over the place, and the stuffed heads of steers wrestled to the ground by the new Caliph back in the good ole days. Enter Bremer Baba III.
Dubya Baba (consuming the fatted calf, or hotdog):
Grovel when you come in! And doggarn drop that “third” from your name. I’m calling myself Dubya the First from now on. Can’t have yous callin yoursel’ “third”. News?
Bremer Baba:
Wolfy’s upset the Turks again, oh Master. He told them that they have to do what they’re told, whatever their stupid, so-called parliament says.
Dubya Baba:
Quite right. Next thing you know, these people will want demockery.
Bremer Baba:
Your highness, we are so GREAT that we could justifiably allot 30 votes for every expat in Mesopotamia to one for every local male.
Dubya:
I like the male-only bit, but demockery here is just too difficult. Forget it.
Bremer Baba:
Meanwhile, Great One, the Turks have invaded from the north and are locked in mortal combat with the Kurds, who are killing the Arabs, who are trying to slaughter the Heroic Troops of the Far-off land, but can’t because they’re safely behind miles of barbed wire and never go out. Meanwhile only 242 people have died in the streets in Baghdad in the last 2 weeks, so at least that’s under control
Dubya Baba:
Lamp oil?
Bremer Baba:
Secured.
Dubya Baba:
So whatcha worried about?
Bremer Baba:
Unfortunately, there’s a pincer movement. The Persians have invaded with camels of mass destruction, siege engines and rock-throwing catapults. They are led by Saladdin, a great national hero.
Dubya Baba:
The guy with the lamp?
Bremer Baba:
No, that’s Aladdin.
Dubya Baba:
Where is Aladdin? I’m gonna need his lamp by the looks of it.
Bremer Baba:
He’s escaped to Kuwait.
Dubya Baba:
Then we’ll invade Kuwait!
Enter Company. Sing: (to the tune of There’s no People like Show People)
There’s no people like Dubya’s people
There’s no people I know.
Everything about them’s unappealing,
Rational debate they won’t allow,
Why is it we get that sinking feeling
That they are stealing
And we know how!
There’s no people like Dubya’s people
They act just for the few.
CEOs with salaries of millions
Give fortunes for political campaigns.
As long as they can grab those extra millions
Why care if Dubya is short of brains.
There’s no people like Dubya’s people
They smile, that’s no surprise.
The pundits told us yesterday “He won’t go far”,
Some gerrymandering and there you are.
Next day in the White House, he’s become a star!
Let’s just cancel the show!
And next time all say NO!
Will the invasion of Kuwait be successful? Will Dubya capture Aladdin and his Wonderful lamp and save himself from the Persians? Will Saddam, Great Leader of the Far-off Land, be able to assemble a Great Coalition to drive the Dubya and the Mesopotamians out of Kuwait? Will the Canadians be able to restore Democracy and Liberty to the great people of the Far-off land? Will a barbed wire fence 50 feet high be erected around Texas to prevent further incursion of undesirables into the perfectly normal bit of the country (Alabama and South Carolina excepted?)?
Author: “Those who trade liberty for security deserve neither.” — Benjamin Franklin