Clowns of War
President Incentive's Address
Darkness. Drum roll.
Voiceover—and now, live from that snowwhite city in the East, Washington D.C., the inimitable, the irrepressable "Red" Incentive--the President of the United States of America!
Spots up on a podium bedecked with a garland of roses. President Richard "Red" Incentive, a 12yearold boy in white sweatervest white sportsshirt, white shorts and carrying a tennis racket bounds in joyously from stage left. He cannot see over the podium and a man with a taut suit mirrored sunglasses and a wire in his ear walks swiftly onstage from from stage left with a stepladder, looking around for terrorists. Another man in an identical suit comes on from stage left carrying a portable cassette player and increases the volume of a vast crowd of people cheering. Red climbs up onto the stepladder, smiling and waving, crying "hi! hi!." The man decreases the volume slowly.
Red's voice hasn't broken. He reads his speech with great difficulty multiple mispronunciations and uncertain exasperated occasional eye contact.
Is this thing on?
Twelve hours ago i approved an unlimited air assault on Clowntown, a small city populated entirely by clowns.
My reasons were complicated. There was no choice. We will get what we want. We are justified. God bless America.
Thank you.
"Red" unwraps a lollipop with a loud crackling of plastic and pops it in his mouth. The secret service agent increases the volume to a crescendo which stops abruptly, simultaneous with lights down.
Press Briefing
Agent Orange is a pompous medallion studded bastard standing behind a podium with several microphones and a glass of red kool-ade. He is wearing full military regalia with a silk scarf tucked into his inflated chest. His hair is grey lustrous and sparse, concealed beneath a helmet. He wields a riding crop as he speaks in arrogant drawling tones. Although there is a crowd of anxious handraisers with clipboards and notebooks, Rep Resentment is the only one who is called upon to ask any questions. When Agent Orange fields for questions (briefly) there is a loud clamoring for attention which dies down immediately after he singles out Rep.
Rep R—are you a big fat liar?
Agent O—i cannot disclose at this time whether or not the lies i told yesterday--which i will NOT repeat--will remained confirmed or unconfirmed or not by official government sources. next? yes.
Rep R—do you believe the clowns actually pose a threat to United States national security?
Agent O—(picks the glass up, takes a long drink, puts the glass down, picks the glass up, takes a long drink, puts the glass down) not to answer your question, but reconnaissance and intelligence has gave us conclusive evidence that the clowns has vast supplies of floppy shoes, plaid overalls, and big red rubber noses. it is also known that they has breached geneva conventions and has been stockpiling such unconventional novelties as disappearing ink, explosive cigars, little innocent looking candies that burn your mouth when you eat them, and packages of chewing gum that snap your fingers when you try to take a stick. they are a cold and devious lot and in numerous civil uprisings has even used such gags against their own people. they are clearly dangerous and not to be trusted. i should know. next? yes.
Rep R—is it true that in the nine year War of the Peanut Shells the United States funded the efforts of the clowns, providing them with a fleet of silly jalopies and our own outdated calliopes, as well as seltzer bottles capable of squirting cold bubbly water up to three miles: technology that will now be used against our own soldiers?
Agent O—(picks the glass up, takes a long drink spilling much of it down his front, puts the glass down) not to provide any information which might be of interest, but maybe. next? yes.
Rep R—in the case of a ground offensive what hazards face our troops?
Agent O—(cold steeled military toughness) in this circus of operations the clowns are likely to has boobytrapped every perimeter with banana peels, whoopie cushions, and even fake doggy doodoo. (gasps from the press) our biggest fear is, of course, their cream pie technology. (murmuring) our troops are instructed to be very careful when taking any surviving clowns captive as they are known to be well armed with hidden joy buzzers, squirting flowers, and other atrocities we can't even guess at. next? yes.
Rep R—what actions have our forces taken to date?
Agent O—despite resistance offered by a few paper airplanes we has secured air superiority and has begun and continued unrelenting bombardment of hospitals, toystores, and any areas which are densely populated by civilians. we are using the most sophisticated warplanes available and are dropping approximately thirty thousand tons of conventional explosives per 24 hour cycle. the key to our air superiority, coupled with the clown's lack of airplanes, includes early-warning aircraft, the stealth bomber, and computer-guided cruise missiles. next? yes?
Rep R—are we at war?
Agent O—i refused to answer that yesterday.
Clowntown Correspondent I
Tom Problem, television reporter, stands confidently centerstage with a microphone staring straight through the audience. He wears a khaki trenchcoat and fedora over a suit. Behind him clowns are rushing helter skelter, carrying children rollerskating or pushing grocerycarts full of brightly colored boxes of children's cereal. Their facepaint indicates fear, and they whirl around looking at the sky collide run from one side of the stage to the other fleeing to shelter. Other than the slapstick pandemonium of panic, there is no evidence of jokes or foolery. There is a din of conventional whistles incessant rising and falling siren whistles and slowly descending slide whistles followed by explosions and flashes of light. Tom stares blankly at the audience for a full five seconds before he begins to speak: calmly—at first.
This is Tom Problem, reporting live from Clowntown where the air raid siren whistles have been sounding for the past five minutes. There is an unusual absence of mirth here as the clowns all rush to the relative safety of their homes or underground shelters. The air is filled with dense fog, illuminated by flashing lights. The earth shakes with the impact of extremely powerful explosions many many miles away... although... they sound like they're getting closer. is that helicopter ready yet? Yeah? Good, lets get the fuck out of here. This is Tom Problem in Clowntown si--
Tom's mouth falls open and his gaze follows the sound of a rising helicopter upwards. His professionalism evaporates.
Hey! Wait! Come back! Don't leave me here alone! Come back!
Oh no, oh no, oh no. My own people have betrayed me in flight. A man with a microphone alone in an alien land in the path of approaching American firebombers. Soon the sky will unload mechanized destruction and i will be crushed like an ant under the thick boot of Western aggression.
How could you do this to me?
Commentary I
Professor Scowl is sitting behind a desk, leaning forwards, hands clasped upon a thick book. Behind him is a large map of the world. He is old thin and oily and speaks with the patronizing manner of someone who knows all facts and has already taken them for granted for many years but feels he has to explain them to you either for your benefit or perhaps to overcompensate for some crippling deficiency of fun.
Is the war against the clowns an equitable solution to our differences? Certainly by exterminating their civilization we will solve the problems in our relations with it, but is no compromise possible?
The clowns are a radically different people. How can we expect them to understand us if we make no effort to understand them? On American television they are stereotyped as men with orange wigs selling hamburgers or giving bicycles to children. Yet in reality they have a complex and fascinating cultural history much older than our own. To understand clowns we must first take a look at their customs, their convictions, and the structure of their society.
Firstly, the language of the clowns is markedly dissimilar to any other: they communicate almost entirely through honking exaggerated facial expressions and frantic pantomime. Their customs are deeply rooted in the study and practice of comedy. It is estimated that a full 99% of all clowns are devout comedians. They have had many outspoken philosophers some of whose books have been published in English and are available for study. Contemporary examples include the works of American clowns Woody Allen and Steve Martin. Studying these texts, although they may at first appear to be strange whimsical and even nonsensical, helps to characterize the clown. Yes, they are an aggressive people, but their aggression is psychological not physical. They strive to conquer through bewilderment and humiliation rather than annihilation. Yet, such conflicts are engaged in as an end in themselves rather than to further motives of greed or gain. This has both a positive and a detrimental effect on their military effectiveness. On the one hand, they are all eager practiced and combat ready. On the other hand they cannot possibly win or lose because they have no political motives. They fight, or--more accurately--frolick for fun.
In my opinion, this war is unjustified and unjust. It is impossible that the clowns could ever pose a military threat to the United States. Perhaps our leaders have forgotten that it was the United States who established the state of Clowntown some 40 years ago, and through covert dealings aided King Silly in his rise to power. In this light it seems to me that we are undertaking our current current military actions because this administration is afraid of looking silly.
Portrait of King Big Silly
King Silly's clown outfit is divided into four colors: purple green orange and purple green and orange plaid. it has big red buttons and giant mismatched shoes. He wields a pinwheel. His facepaint is grinning joyously. He wears a tremendous white wig an ornate fez and has three fake arrows through his head. Spotlights are pinned on Big Silly as he triumphantly waves makes funny faces casts animal shadows on the wall behind him. He is flanked by secret police jesters with the traditional pantaloons tights curled shoes scepters and caps with jinglebells. They have folded arms big squirtguns and red plastic whifflebats. Confetti balloons and streamers drift down from above. A jester increases the volume on a portable cassette player playing a tape of a vast audience laughing.
The voiceover is the voice of Ted Expert who speaks in crisp articulate tones with a British accent. The degree of concern in his voice belies the exaggerations in the text.
Although clown society is somewhat disorganized, they do have a single leader: Big Silly.
King Big Silly has been the tyrannical leader of the clowns for 15 years. He has managed to stay in power through a reign of terror. His secret police, the elite Elephant Jesters, are faithful obedient and vengeful. They insure that the other political sects, most notably the Stooges, are kept silent. In addition to acting as Silly's personal bodyguards they terrorize citizens suspected of being revolutionaries through brutal tactics. Anyone who draws a crayon moustache on a poster of King Silly in public is likely to wake up with their shoelaces tied together or, worse, with live fish in their pants. The Jesters have incomes of nearly three times that of the average clown. Many live in luxurious funhouses and own their own carousels. They are often seen patrolling the streets of Clowntown, driving figure eights in little fire engines. Anyone who wishes to depose Big Silly will have to contend first with his sense of humour and the funny wrath of the Elephant Jesters: a force of the most dedicated spontaneous and hilarity-hardened soldiers in the world.
During the narration a hunched female clown in rags hopples by, stops before Big Silly and blows an uncoiling paper tounge at him in blatant disrespect. The Jesters fall upon her with rubber chickens.
Clowntown Correspondent II
The stage is black.
Voiceover—Tom Problem, fearless and dedicated, toughened and experienced war correspondent, has volunteered to remain alone in Clowntown during the allied bombing. we take you to him now. live. still.
Stark lights come up. Tom is grimy and disheveled, dazed and delerious. He wanders wildeyed across a dark and completely empty stage mumbling into his microphone.
Tom P—and i can remember the circus my dad used to take me to in Saint Louis: Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey. the clowns drove up and ran around chasing each other and my brother and i we just laughed. we didn't know. you know how kids are. we just laughed and ate popcorn. seems like a thousand years ago to me but i guess it was just...
Voiceover—Tom can you hear me? can you hear me Tom?
Tom P—(has no idea) i guess so.
Voiceover—what do you see Tom? Tom what do you see?
Tom stops, turns around very slowly.
Tom P—i'm standing beside an overturned red wagon beneath one of the only tents that's still standing. everything is extremely still. the only sign of life are doves flying in circles around me. the sky is shrouded with smoke and the only light is a flickering pallid glow emanating from a burning snowcone stand. i haven't heard any bombs in... minutes. everything is extremely quiet. there's no sound at all except... jingling from somewhere. i thought i just heard laughter but i'm not sure.
Tom, eyes terrified wide and unblinking scans the audience slowly. From offstage comes the honk of a horn and Tom immediately spins, gasps. his terror is obvious.
Tom P—the... the clowns are here.
Plight of American Clowns
Bob Banter is standing at the bus stop with a sack of groceries. He is wearing a sweater jeans and leather shoes. He has a gold wristwatch his hair is short and blonde and he appears in every way to be a young conservative American. Except for his rabbit ears.
Skip and Biff approach. Their appearance is identical to that of Bob in every way. Except for his rabbit ears.
Skip—excuse me. has the red line bus come by here yet?
Bob—haven't seen it.
Skip—good.
Biff—which bus are you waiting for?
Bob—oh, the plaid line.
Bob smiles disarmingly. Skip and Biff frown sternly, look at one another. Bob abruptly looks away nervously.
Bob—sorry. i mean the redline.
Biff—what's the matter with you?
Bob—sorry?
Biff—what's your problem?
Bob—no problem.
Skip—c'mon Biff.
Biff—what're these? huh?
Bob—those? those are... rabbit ears.
Biff—rabbit ears huh? what are they for?
Bob—(warily) rabbits hear with them.
Skip puts his hand on Biff's shoulder. Biff shakes it off, gives Bob a powerful shove. Skip winces, shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away.
Bob—stop it!
Biff—smartass, huh? aren't you? rabbit ears, huh? you must be some kind of clown.
Bob—no. i'm not. i'm a mime.
Biff—a mime, huh? real funny, wighead. why don't you go back to your circus, bozo? huh? hey chuckles i'm talking to you.
Skip—leave him alone.
Biff—hey paintface what you got in the bag?
Biff collars Bob with one hand and with the other digs through his grocery sack indelicately.
Bob—that's my food.
Biff—what you got here? eggs? tomatoes?
With the discovery of each food item Biff crushes one of them on Bob's head. Many others fall to the ground. Egg and tomato running down his face, Bob's eyes are frightened.
Biff—balloons. make a joke clown. c'mon. make me laugh.
Bob—[weakly] why did the chicken cross the road?
Biff—[quietly] i dunno clown. tell me. why.
Bob—he was terrified.
Biff jabs two fingers into Bob's eyes, punches Bob in the stomach. Bob doubles over. Stooges style, Biff holds out his fist and strikes it with the flat of his other hand sending the fist around 360 degrees down on Bob's head. Bob falls down onto his side. Biff kicks him in the stomach. Skip runs away. Lights down.
Clowntown Correspondent III
Link Chalkup has white hair, roundrimmed glasses, and a bad suit: grey with wide lapels outlined in black, a green tie. simpering and unconfident, he speaks in whiny tones, pausing often to look down at the pages before him. A man in a military uniform--camoflaged pants, olive tshirt--stands always on Link's left, staring straight ahead and making Link tremble in visible nervousness. A waterglass sits by his left elbow. A television monitor mirroring his face stands to his right.
L Chalkup—a few hours ago clowntown correspondent Tom Problem was taken prisoner by the Elephant Jesters. in a violation of geneva conventions pertaining to other countries but not us footage of Problem has been broadcast on the clown channel. it is obvious that he is being subjected to the cruellest tortures and humiliations. we are going to rebroadcast that same footage...
Link continues to stare at the audience for a full five seconds. A technician puts a cassette in a VCR beneath the monitor. Static disappears to reveal the head of Tom Problem who is in a chair laughing hysterically, his eyes watering. He is wearing a party hat. The camera pulls back. On his left one clown honks and twirls a ratchety noisemaker. Another clown is tickling Tom's bare feet with a feather.
it is believed that the clowns intend to hold Problem as a hostage until the bombing stops. despite this, the president has stated flat out
Link pauses to search through his papers, scattering and wrinkling them, sending some falling to the floor. He spills his waterglass. Finally the military man whispers in his ear:
"i don't care."
Conference of Incentives
President Richard Incentive--or "Ricky"--is sitting at a desk which is emblazoned with the presidential seal. It is at least fifteen feet wide and has nothing on it except a red telephone and a few plastic soldiers. He is playing quite happily.
President I—die rednose! (bang bang bang) ah ha got you! honk! ha ha! here come some bombs! (boom boom boom) oops sorry i killed your friend too. ha ha! here come the tanks! you're welcome! (whistle) ha ha! take that bigshoe!
The telephone buzzes and the President quickly opens a drawer and sweeps all the toys into it. He answers the phone with a loud sharp voice:
President I—send him in.
The President leans back in his leather chair and begins to blow bubbles importantly. Benjamin Incentive enters from stage right and stands at the edge of the desk. The President doesn't look up.
President I—hi dad. i don't wanna talk too long cause i wanna go play badminton ok? are we done with this dumb war yet?
Benjamin I—i'm afraid the land offensive is not proceeding quite as smoothly as they predicted. it looks like the whole thing will take much longer than they said it would. not just a teeny weeny bit, Ricky, a lot longer.
President I—what? you big dummy! you told me it would be over in time for the ice cream social on saturday! what's the matter? why can't you just kill them all?
Benjamin I—the clowns are trouble Ricky.
President I—they are not! they're just a bunch of dumb old clowns!
Benjamin I—they're equipped much better than they anticipated. its just been discovered that they've been involved in many covert dealings with the CIA and Toys R Us. their tricycles outnumber our tanks nearly three to one. they have an extensive supply of water in wading pools in underground bomb shelters and during our air raids they filled a number of water balloons estimated to be upwards of... a whole lot.
although we quickly obtained superiority in the air, on the ground they're making fools of us.
President I—(whining) but how come?
Benjamin Incentive is becoming understandably emotional, his eyes filling with involuntary memories of the horror my god the horror of the war against the clowns.
Benjamin I—the clowns are clever enemies Ricky! they have guns and when they pull the trigger a little flag comes out that says BANG. and there are these mirrors. when you walk past them they make you look really tall and skinny. or really short and fat. and they've rigged the entire circus of operations with underground sprinkler systems that go off when the troops march past. there's even been several unconfirmed reports of silly string. it's horrible Ricky. our boys are getting wet out there and there's no sign that the clowns will surrender. ever. they're creatures of war Ricky. they know no other life. the clowns'll keep playing tricks on us until the very last one is dead.
President I—i don't care.
Benjamin I—this is a very unpopular war. if it lasts a week longer we... you may not be reelected. do you know waht that would mean? that would be a big cut in your allowance. there are thousands of people out in front right now protesting, chanting, waving signs. they want you to spend more on environmental issues, including those caused by all the burning rubber in Clowntown, and to spend some of your money on hospitals and education. normal kids have to go to school you know. they're out there right now. look.
Benjamin Incentive pulls back the curtain. Distant chanting is heard ("this isn't funny") "Ricky" doesn't look. He swivels in his chair, turning his back on his father. He folds his arms, juts out his trembling lower lip, and proceeds to pout.
Benjamin Incentive leans down and speaks to his son with visible restraint.
Benjamin I—Ricky, do you know what the clowns do to their prisoners of war? i don't think you do. i'm going to tell you. they make them sit on a platform above a big glass tank. filled with water. and then all the clowns take turns. throwing baseballs. at a little lever. and when one of them hits that little lever do you know what happens? the soldier, the american soldier--a young man just about ten years older than you Ricky--falls into the water. with a big splash. and then all the clowns roll around on the ground and laugh. would you want that to happen to you Ricky?
and the prisoners of war become so demoralized... they think it's funny.
There is a long silence. The phone buzzes. Ricky snatches it up.
President I—what? oh. it's for you. it's from the front line. a man from the cream pie detection van wants to tell you something. he says it's important.
Benjamin Incentive pales, trembling.
Press Briefing II
Agent Orange is again at the podium, this time with an extremely tall glass of red kool-ade.
Rep R—two questions sir. are your pants on fire? are you sitting on a telephone wire?
Agent O—if you're trying to taunt me it isn't working. need i remind you that i'm a toughened military character? now for reasons of national security we has imposed an indefinite press blackout on any information which might reveal any truth. however i can tell you that the ground offensive is proceeding better, far better than we anticipated. the resistance the clowns has so far afforded can be best characterized as nonmilitary. they has not fired a single shot. this is in no small part due to the exact and decisive nature of our offensive. our jets and helicopters are using pinpoint bombing to clear the way for our tanks who in turn leave nothing but smoking ruins for our footsoldiers to walk on. our troops are at this moment on the oustskirts of the bigtop. it is certain that the entire struggle will be over within a matter of hours. how many hours is still uncertain.
Rep R—can you give us an estimate of the number of American casualties so far?
Agent O—as i've said repeatedly there is no accurate information available. however, at this time zero would be, in my mind, a fair estimate. (murmuring) next. yes.
Rep R—can you confirm reports that there have been upwards of one hundred American soldiers killed and many more wounded as a result of miscalculations made by our own men?
Agent Orange opens his mouth as if to speak, coughs weakly. He slowly and deliberately drains the entire glass of water.
Agent O—no. next. yes.
Rep R—why are we at war?
Agent O—mind your own business.
Commentary II: Tactical and Strategic Deception
Professor Scowl is at his desk again. Behind him is a large and complex schematic diagram of a propellor cap. His office is cluttered with balloon animals numerous inflatable pool toys, and kites.
The extraordinary effectiveness of the clown army is not due to military strength--for they have none. Rather, they owe it to the science of strategic and tactical deception.
The science of deception is believed to be derived from the epigrams of Sun Tzu. Sun Tzu, one of history's great military thinkers, was a Chinese general of the 6th century. He believed that any battle can be won more readily through deception and trickery than direct attack.
Strategic deception is an offensive technique that involves unexpectedly attacking an army too unprepared to retaliate effectively. For example, before the allied landing at Normandy many completely artificial armies were built and assembled near other likely invasion points in order to fool German air reconnaissance.
Tactical deception involves dissuading an attack by creating the illusion that the odds are unfavorable. The clowns are believed to be masters of the defensive art of tactical deception on land, in the sea, and in the air.
What were once believed to be large supplies of waterballoons near the eastern edge of Clowntown have recently been discovered to be filled with air. The clowns have also for some time been known to fill buckets with confetti when water is unavailable.
It is well known that the clowns possess one of the silliest naval armadas in the world, their primary attack vessel being the Donald Duck life preserver. Although their fleets of rubber duckies and toy boats failed to dissuade the amphibious landing on Clowntown's western bank, the clowns have enjoyed some limited success with their floating shark fin.
Although the clowns have been developing various prototype ornithopters throughout the past century, they have yet to build an aircraft capable of leaving the ground. Nevertheless kites, and, in particular, dispersing clouds of multicolored helium balloons serve to baffle our sophisticated radar systems.
Holocaust & Effect
The stage is a devastated chaos of ruined tents, partially deflated beach balls, a bigwheel halfmelted into slag, abandoned unicycles, marbles, confetti, and dead clowns. Enter from stage left "Red" with jumprope Agent Orange with riding crop and Ben Incentive. "Red" jumps rope and chants gleefully.
President I—
1 2 3 4 we won this big silly war!
5 6 7 8 everything is really great!
8 7 6 5 no one here is left alive!
4 3 2 1 now i'm gonna have some fun!
yippee!
yay!
three cheers for me!
"Red" begins to skip around in circles cheering.
Agent O—our military objectives were met within schedule mr.president sir. not to toot my own horn but this was the most skillfully executed blitzkrieg in the history of man. a textbook example of genocide. my holocaust here will be studied by dictators for years to come.
"Red" picks up a yoyo from near a clown's corpse. Benjamin stares at the corpse blankly. Agent Orange is looking around, visibly swelling with pride.
President I—lookie what i found!
Benjamin I—(quietly) spoils for the spoiled.
Agent O—of course i can't forget that i was in command of the most extensive, powerful, and frightening military machine that ever has existed, that ever will exist... and that there was no resistance to speak of.
President I—hey! the string on this yoyo is broke! no fair!
Agent O—(chuckling, a reasonable man) now sir, that sort of thing is to be expected in combat. 99% of our pinpoint bombing was true to mark but there's always error, technical and human. frankly sir, many of our boys had never been exposed to combat before and got a little, shall we say, trigger happy.
President I—you dummy! you were only supposed to kill the stupid clowns not break the toys! lookie a pez dispenser!
Benjamin I—Ricky, maybe you and I should have a talk.
President I—not now dad! hey! this pez dispenser's empty!
Agent O—(losing his patience) the candy was probably eaten by clowns desperate for food. famine is to be expected sir whenever we enforce an internbational embargo on food and medical supplies.
Benjamin I—Ricky settle down right now!
President I—and those electric traintracks are all bent, and this model airplane has a broken rubber band and this teddybear is losing its stuffing and this ambulance is missing a wheel and that icecream wagon is melting! all the toys are broke! you ruined everything!
Benjamin I—Ricky!
"Red" begins to pummel Agent Orange who winces, flinches, and backs away. Benjamin graps "Red" and lays him across his knee. "Red" is screaming terribly.
Benjamin I—alright Ricky i think you're getting just a little too big for your britches, understand? you're getting to be a big bully. you've got to learn that the world isn't yours to take away from other people.
Benjamin is poised about to spank his son. Agent Orange draws his pistol and cocks it behind Benjamin's ear. Benjamin looks up. "Red" looks up.
Agent O—unhand the president.
Lights go down. A shot rings out.
"Red's" sobbing is heard for some time.
The following conversation is heard in the darkness:
Ed—how did you feel when you killed another man, or even a woman i guess, for the first time?
Fred—pretty good. they weren't real people though. they were clowns.
Ed—i'm not talking about them. i'm talking about Tommy.
Fred—it was an accident. could've happened to anyone. even me. i'm glad to be alive. i'm proud of my country: God bless America. why?
Ed—i dunno. i always thought thou shalt not kill or something's bugging me.
Fred—cheer up. have another beer.
End
1991