Prozac The Clown & William Bennett Do Las Vegas

[Prat-falling off the Segway he was slumped onto, Prozac makes his entrance to the Family Research Council Conference's day care facility. A crowd of impeccably-scrubbed kids lose their composure, whooping with schadenfreude-steeped joy .]

Hiya, boys and girls! I'm here because Bill the Bennett, one of the greatest clowns in the whole white world, my esteemed colleague and drinking bu...very close friend, is upstairs talking to your parents right now. So he sent Prozac! Prozac'll tell ya right now, kiddies, he can't hold a candle to the Bennett when it comes to dosing out a case of the clown crazies. But what he can do is...this! [Prozac turns, then runs full-speed into the wall, nearly knocking himself unconscious, reeling and collapsing on the floor. The children squeal with ear-splitting hysterical ecstasy.]

Toot-toot! Sheesh, those walls sure can sneak up on you! And that's just what Bill the Bennett would tell you if he were here. In fact, it's what he's saying to your mommies and daddies in the Big Room upstairs right now:

"Battlefield surrender comes from cultural surrender. Cultural surrender comes from befuddlement."

Let Prozac explain what that means. See, Bill the Bennett is a very smart clown, and he's also very brave. With his own two eyes, Prozac has seen Bill stay up all night at Caesar's Palace playing high-stakes Black Jack. What he means is, the wall that snuck up and hurt Prozac is just like the Liberal Media. That's right. Liberals are losing a war against Bad People, who want to come here and hurt your mommies and daddies. Bad People want to come here and hurt you, too. How bad are they? Well, for one thing, they would burn down all the McDonald's and Burger Kings everywhere. So you could never have another milkshake ever again! That's how bad! [Prozac makes his sad face, the children get totally quiet and little creased frowns of worry build upon their brows.]

Hey, c'mon you great little Americans, don't you worry. Not even for a minute. We're going to kick Bad People Booty. Toot-toot! And here's a little hint from your buddy Prozac, to make you look smart to your parents. So smart they'll buy you a milkshake and all the fries you want. So: when you're going home with them in your SUV, tell them that the Nazis only surrendered because their Liberal Media confused everybody with defeatism. And Japan's "Left Wing" [Prozac flaps left arm, holds nose] got "befuddled" by Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

What's defeatism? Very good question from the little girl in the yellow dress. Well, it's spelled d-e-a-f...whatever, defeatism means you love to lose. And only sick people, like Liberals, do that! And befuddled means, ah, messed up. Tell your parents the next time you see someone from the Liberal Media, you're going to kick them in the bee-hind, and that you need to eat a Big Mac right away, so you can grow up big and strong and dish out lots of Collateral Damage.

Ok, you got it? Liberal Media! Defeatism! Milk Shake and Big Mac. Aww, you're such good boys and girls, and Prozac loves you all. But he knows Bill the Bennett must be feeling a mite parched right about now, so he's gotta go help out before it's an emergency. [Prozac precariously mounts his Segway.] Now, do you remember the Prozac Motto? That's right: Take Your Ritalin, Be a Good Citizen!

Scooter Libby's Friend And Yours: Prozac The Clown Returns

Hi kiddies! It's great to be back at your great little day care. Prozac thought he'd drop by unannounced today because he knows that some of your parents will be talking about Prozac's fellow clown, a clown named Scooter Libby. He's got a very special clown job. It's to make the President happy!! And that's just about the bestest ever job a clown can have.

Now, remember last time Prozac was here, when people were saying how they were sending Scooter to jail and it made his head hurt because it didn't make sense? And Prozac put his hands up on both sides of his poor head, put them into his big red hair and he said, "Ow-wie!?" Well Prozac's head is better now! The President said Scooter doesn't have to go to jail after all. Now everything in Clown-Land makes sense again. Toot-toot!

Some of your parents might be very happy or very sad tonight. If they're happy, that's nice. It's nice when parents are happy, even if they are for pathetically wrong reasons. In Clown-Land we call that "Farce," and it's a tool we use when we want to make things look silly. And so many things are silly anyway that it's really easy. Toot! But if they're sad, and start spouting incomprehensible meaningless blathery-things like this:

Pelosi: Shows Bush's "Word Is Not To Be Believed"...Schumer: This "Completely Tramples On" Principal Of Equal Justice...Reid: Act "Disgraceful"
...Obama: Move "Cements The Legacy Of An Administration Characterized By A Politics Of Cynicism And Division"...Edwards: Bush "Clinically Incapable Of Understanding That Mistakes Have Consequences"

If they're sad and confused, they won't give you as many presents, and that's never good, huh? So when you go home you need to give them Prozac's Special Thought of the Decade, so they can start to be happy and make sense again. Repeat it after me so you don't forget:

"Dear Mommy and Daddy: where the hell have you been since before I was even born? Don't you realize these guys make Hitler and his goons look like a political vaudeville act? Why did you think the President was going to put his favorite clown in jail?"

Good! Here let's try it once more: "Don't you realize these guys make Hitler and his goons look like a political vaudeville act?" Better. You're such smart girls and boys, and you're going to do just gr-r-r-r-reeeat!

Now, you could also tell your parents, if they come back at you with any guff, a different Special Thought. Maybe even the Special Thought of the Century! So we can keep it as our secret, if you want. Because no one is going to believe us anyway. Prozac is just a clown. And lots of people think little kids aren't smart, and don't want to listen to them. But we know better, right? You can learn better and faster than just about anybody!

You know, Prozac sees lots of cars driving around with bumper stickers on them that say "01.20.09," or "Visualize Bush Out of Office," and he hears people saying, "We've turned things around before, and we can do it again." Prozac has to scratch his head, stroke his chin, and then maybe even scratch his butt when he thinks about that one. Prozac knows Scooter and the President's other clowns, he knows how much fun they're having and how good they are with the new tricks they've practiced so hard on. So his tiny clown brain doesn't see why they're going to get ready to leave. [Stage whispers to the day care children.] Maybe not ever leave.

Remember, kiddies, this message to your parents is optional. "Optional" means you can tell it to them if you feel like it, or you can forget all about it and get popsicles or ice-cream sandwiches from the freezer and go play Nintendo and get your hands and the controllers all sticky!! Prozac is only going to tell you because you're such special boys and girls and he thinks you're so clown-eriffic! Toot-toot! Ok. Here it is:

"Dear Mommy and Daddy: What will you do if the President and his clowns don't leave?"

So kiddies, not to end on a downer. C'mon, not one of you is 5 years old yet, and your day care provider just threatened me with an icy gaze. Prozac really thinks what happened today is good. Scooter Libby, while a very, very good clown, is just a clown who works for a very big and very bad man. That's why Prozac works alone! Toot! And people are going to get more and more mad at the bad man for things like this, and maybe if they get angry enough they will take Scooter's bad President to where they take all bad men. Away! See you soon, kiddies!

Introducing: Prozac The Clown

Several Hordies have taken the time to blame me personally for throwing them into spiralling black funks of suicidal depressions, stemming directly from one of my recent book reviews. Hey... guys: look at it this way: at least I saved you from reading the book. Plus, it was on Oprah's Book Club, it won a Pulitzer Prize, and I even told you about the happy ending! Humanity survived in the end, didn't it?! And can I help it if Lord Mother watches Oprah, fer chrissakes? I do feel your pain, and so have decided, just for you, just for today, to become...Prozac the Clown. I am putting on my fake nose right now.

Toot, toot! Hey kiddies! Do you know who Scooter Libby is? He's a clown, too! Only he's a very special clown. His job was to make the President happy. And that's why he was called Scooter Libby, that's right, Emily! Scooter got his federal prison inmate number assigned today. That makes Prozac feel very sad for Scooter because he and many of his friends are fellow clowns. But it turns out that clowns can go to prison, too. Even if they work for the Bush Administration. Having the President's favorite clown go to prison doesn't make sense to poor Prozac, it makes his head hurt, oww-ie, so Prozac will believe it when he actually sees it. Can you say, "the jury is still out?" Sometimes Prozac says that when he doesn't know if something is finished yet. The jury's still out! The jury's still out! Hee-hee! Even so, just in case, Prozac has had a T-shirt made for his friend Scooter to wear in prison:

I'm Here For Dick (Cheney).

Haa-ha-ha-hee! Toot-toot! Kiddies, maybe you've heard your parents or their friends say funny stuff like this:

"If the liberals would stop spending so much money on midnight basketball, free abortions and treasonous investigations of the Executive and Vice-Presidential branches of government, we could afford to build more small-town prisons and boost the local economies."

If you're like Prozac, you know that grown-ups can be ree-eee-ally silly sometimes! This stuff about midnight basketball and treason is just fancy-talk, kind of like when they spell things with letters so you can't understand. What they really mean is that they're freaking out and will beat you with a shoe after you fall asleep. And what's that mean? Right, that means they need a Time Out. Say it with Prozac: "Mommy, you need a Time Out." "Daddy, you need a Time Out." Good! You're such wonderful boys and girls. Oh, and if any of them touch you in or around your "bad places," then you come tell Prozac right away, ok? Then we can report them to the state and send them to prison to keep the economy boosted!

Now, kiddies, Prozac has to go really fast to visit another party, but when you get home he wants you to get out your dictionaries and look up this word: immigrants. Im-mi-grants. Will you promise Prozac to do that? Good! Because then we can talk about it next time! [Prozac mounts brightly painted orange, lime, and purple scooter festooned with pom-poms.] Bye-bye kids, and remember the Prozac Promise: Take Your Ritalin to Be a Good Citizen!