MSTing - "White Power" by Jackson Mileur [PROSE][MEMIST]
MSTed by River City Random and Typewriter Monkey
MSTer's Note: Well, this is my second misting. In the attempt to exorcise my own
personal demons, I have dredged up this little nugget from the darkest regions of my
psyche--well, the darkest regions of my computer, anyway. It's another one of my
terrible freshman English essays. Just to warn you, this essay deals with
controversial subjects like racism, gang violence, and gender identity, which the
author has severely botched--as usual. Hopefully by adding all of our sassy riffs
we have been able to make this essay as entertaining an experience as possible. So,
if you are offended, keep in mind this essay was written by a confused 17-year-old
boy who doesn't really exist any more (although bits and pieces of him refuse to
die.) So please, email rivercityrandom@hotpop.com before you call the Anti-
Defamation League, ok?
--River City Random (aka Jack Mileur)
February 21, 2003
The funny MSTer's Note: ~LA!~
Typwriter Monkey's Note: This one was easier to do than "Tommy". I hope you laugh
as much as we did. Just remember it's all in good fun. Lessee... The "Important
Bits": "White Power" got an A from Jack's english teacher, who apparently had his
tastebuds shot off in the war. Mystery Science Theater 3000 belongs to Best Brains,
without whom none of us would be here today. I maintain the rights to my immortal
soul. But I want you guys to bottle your laughter and send it to me. It's better
than Heroin. (Like I'd Know, having never tried Heroin... ^^;) ^;;^ Help! Vampire
bats are attacking! ^;;^
Typewriter Monkey (esperlydia@hotmail.com)
February 21, 2003
[Mystery Science Theater 3000 Season 9 opening credits]
[SOL Bridge. Mike, Tom, and Crow are here, even though the 'bots look a little
dejected.]
Mike: Hello, everyone. Mike Nelson here on the Satellite of Love. I got Bobo to
smuggle up a good movie for us this time--James Cameron's action classic "Terminator
2." However, Tom and Crow didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I did.
Tom: Enjoy it? That was the most *racist* film since "Birth of a Nation!"
Mike: Racist? Huh?
Crow: You know what we're talking about! That sweet, innocent liquid metal guy,
who wanted nothing more than to protect his fellow robots from extinction, gets
savagely brutalized by the humans and their sellout android--and to add insult to
injury, he gets melted down in a steel factory to make more tools for men!
Mike: But the T-1000 was evil--and he was sent by an evil computer who was out to
destroy all life on Earth!
Tom: Who fired the first shot, Mike? Who?
Crow: Yeah, Mike, in almost every movie we robots are being portrayed as evil,
emotionally unstable, bloodthirsty killers!
Mike: Well... um, what about the "Short Circuit" movies? Or "Batteries Not
Included"? Or that sitcom with the robot, "Small Wonder"? You can't say that those
robots are evil.
Tom: 'Botsploitation films, Mike, the whole lot of them! Little more than
electronic "minstrel shows" so you humans can watch the goofy antics of your "happy
slaves" while you crush them under your fleshy heel!
Mike: How about Mr. Data on Star Trek? He's a high-ranking officer in Starfleet--
Crow: Only by denying his true robot heritage! He's so brainwashed by colonialist
human ideology that he even *wants* to be human! He's nothing more than a robot
"Uncle Tom"!
Tom: Where are the robots playing leading roles in Hollywood? Where are the robots
in positions of power at all?
Crow: And to think of all the poor robots forced to fight to the death on
"Battlebots," just for the humans' amusement!
Tom: The robots on Earth must live under constant tyranny, with no role models, no
leadership...
Mike: Fellas? There's something you ought to know... there *are* no robots like
you on Earth!
Crow: But all the movies--
Mike: Guys, all of those robots in the movies--they're not real. They're all
special effects, remote controlled machines and stuff, and some of them are even
people in costume. The only robots on Earth are disembodied arms on auto assembly
lines, and those robot toys that just bark and bump into things. I hate to say
this, Crow, but you, Tom, Gypsy, Cambot and the Nanites are the only sentient robots
*ever!*
Crow: What? (pause) OH MY GOD, THERE'S BEEN A GENOCIDE!!!! *slumps down and
starts to cry*
Tom: *trying to bash Mike with his dome* YOU MONSTER!!!!
Mike: We'll be right back... [commercial sign flashes]
Crow: *sobbing* But we robots will never be back, thanks to you! *starts hitting
Mike ineffectually*
[Commercials: "Harry Potter and The Order Of The Phoenix" in theaters today! Now
you can see the movie before the book is even completed! ... Geico: Well I knew all
insurance salesmen were slimy lizards, but *this* is ridiculous! ... The Dell Kid
breaks into televangelism: "Dude! You're going to hell!" ... back to you.]
[SOL Bridge. Mike and Tom walk in, stage left.]
Tom: I'm so glad we had this little talk, Mike! I feel so much better about our
place in society! Now, no matter what Hollywood says about robots, I can feel
secure in the fact that we will outlive you all! My sturdy chrome-molybdenum frame
and nigh-inexhaustible nuclear energy source will keep on going, long after your
species' puny civilization crumbles to dust under the ravages of time!
Mike: *mumbles sarcastically* That's a cheery thought. *looks up at Tom* Say,
there's some leftover tuna-noodle casserole in the fridge. Want to share it with
me?
Tom: Why not? [They leave stage right.]
[Crow enters. He looks around several times to see if the coast is clear. He is
wearing a olive-drab beret and holding a cordless phone.]
Crow: *into telephone* Ok, are all the troops in position on the southern ridge?
Good! You will commence Operation "Robot Rumpus" at 0900 hours! And remember, give
our fleshy foes NO MERCY!
[Mike and Tom walk in, stage right.]
Crow: *whisper* I must go--the Oppressor draws near. Fight the power, brothers!
*hangs up*
Mike: *looks at Crow* Say, Crow, what are you doing with the phone?
Crow: Uh.... Uh...
Mike: You're not calling one of those sex lines again, are you?
Crow: Why, yes, I am. Pretty darn good sex line, too... *nervous chuckle*
Mike: We've talked about this before, Crow. If you want to call the 900 numbers,
you have to pay for them yourself!
Crow: Oh, sure thing, Mike... hehe... *aside* You'll be the one to pay, air-
breather!
Mike: *aside to Tom* Hey, Servo, is Crow acting a little *strange* to you?
Tom: Eh, must be his time of the month. [Mads light flashes] And speaking of
which, Pearl's calling.
Mike: What can we do for you today, Pearl?
[Castle Forrester. Pearl is looming over a console. Bobo is sitting upstage,
reading comic books.]
Pearl: This is odd... my sensor logs indicate an unauthorized movie transmission at
0600 hours this morning... *looking at Bobo* Bobo, would you know anything about
that?
Bobo: Who me, Lawgiver? I don't think so...
Pearl: Bobo, there's *ape hair* all over this machine...
Bobo: I don't know what you're insinuating... *Pearl glares at him* I had to do
it!!! Mike... promised me cookies... don't hurt me!
Pearl: Oh, I'll make you punish yourself later! *looks into the camera* As for
you, Schwartzenelson, I have a special treat in store... Your little windup toys
might like this. It's a little tale about a young man's fight against bigotry and
intolerance in a small country town... it's called "White Power" and it's another
sappy, self-absorbed English essay by young schlockmeister Jackson Mileur!
HAHAHA... you'll never steal *my* movies again!
[SOL Bridge]
Tom: AAAAUGH! We barely survived the last one!
Mike: WE'VE GOT ESSAY SIGN!!!!!!!
[All scatter and run into the theater.]
[6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
> Final Draft: Essay #1
Tom: If this is the final draft, I'd hate to see what the *rough* draft is like.
> Jackson Mileur
> English 1A Section 12
Crow: "4F" is more likely.
> October 12, 1996
Mike: Oh, he wrote it on Columbus Day.
Pearl: *blasts through loudspeaker* How ironic you should mention that, because in
this story you too will discover a New World--of PAIN! Hahahahaha!
Crow: I hate it when she does that...
Mike: Don't worry, guys! Maybe we'll... fall off the edge or something.
> White Power
Tom: What not to be caught with when you get pulled over in South Central L.A.!
Mike: I think that's "powder", Tom.
Tom: Oh yeah, that too.
> In eighth grade I was quite a rebel.
Crow: [Jackson] I stayed up until 10 pm, I drank out of the milk carton, I accepted
gifts without writing thank-you notes! I was a total animal!!!!
Mike: Rebel without a clue.
> I let my grades and my hair drop;
Tom: *smugly* All The way to A-.
> I was defiant of authority, and I got
> into a lot of fights. A particular nasty fight I had was with Paul Garcia.
Crow: Battling furiously to the death over who was the dorkiest!
> We had a heated argument about homosexuality, which led eventually to punches.
Tom: [Jackson] Homosexuality is genetically determined!
Crow: [Paul] No it's not, it's an acquired lifestyle choice!
Tom: [Jackson] No, it's genetics!
Crow: [Paul] No, it's a lifestyle choice!
Tom & Crow: That tears it! *they start beating on each other*
> The two of us were locked in a furious rage
Mike: Clash of the kids who PEAKED IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL!
> that took two strong teachers and a hall proctor to defuse.
Tom: [teacher] So, I cut the red wire? Or was it cut the green wire? Oh hell...
*snip* (long pause) Whew...
> However, this skirmish I would soon regret.
*BOOM!* [Tom shoots up to the ceiling, crashing down behind the theater seats]
Crow: *looking up* Huh... delayed reaction.
> The day after I came back from suspension, we had a partner assignment
> in science class. I hate working in partners, and groups in general,
> since everyone expects me to do all their work for them.
Mike: And me, being the *defiant young rebel* that I was, felt helpless to refuse.
> This day, two people expressed their interest in my answers. Dave Hart, my usual
> partner, wanted me; he even offered to help this time. But then I heard a
> voice rising though the riotous bedlam of the room.
Tom: Yeah, the fun never stops in "Science Class".
> "Hey, Jack, come here."
Mike: [Voice] I want to staple your head to this desk.
Crow: [Jackson] Being the defiant rebel that I am, I waited all of 0.38 seconds
before running over.
Tom: [Jackson] Someone wants me! yay! *prances*
> It was coming from a tough-looking boy in the corner wearing an
> Anarchy shirt and sporting a slicked-back mohawk on his head.
Crow: The local Mormon missionary on casual day!
> Of course I knew who he was. His name was Adam Richards, and he usually
> hung out with a group of guys about as churlish and vulgar as
Tom: [Jackson] ...my thesaurus could describe them.
> himself. Of his business I cared little.
Crow: [Jackson] When he started talking about Amway, my mind just glazed over...
> We had never spoken, really, until this day.
>
> "Heard you kicked that Cuban punk’s ass," he said as soon as I sat
> down. "You’re quite a good fighter."
Mike: [Vegeta] My power level is at 50,000!
> "Uh, yeah, right…" I trailed off. Truth was, Paul was "quite a good
> fighter" too. If Mr. Johnson and Mr. Kruse had arrived thirty seconds
> later…
Crow: [Jackson] They would have found us locked in a passionate embrace.
> Adam changed the subject. "Jack, are you proud of being white?"
>
> "Yeah…I can’t be proud of being black, now can I?"
Mike: Well, Michael Jackson tries to be.
> He didn’t laugh. "Would you like to be a skinhead?"
Crow: [Adam] I need one more recruit to make my quota.
> At the time, I didn’t completely grasp the implications of what he
> was asking.
>
> "Actually, I’d like to keep my hair the way it is."
Mike: In a box.
Tom: Long and greasy?
Crow: Yeah, that's got to be murder in the summertime.
> I gently patted my hair, which was then down past my shoulders. I was quite
> proud of it. It was a sign of my rebellion and my individuality.
Tom: Just like all of the other long-haired rebel nonconformists!
> "Well then, you’ll just have to cut it shorter, and maybe if you grew
> out your sideburns a little, it would be OK."
Crow: So are we talking about White supremacists or the local Barber's Union?
> I decided that this was no time for jokes.
Mike: [Jackson] He's giving me advice on hairstyles? He *must* be evil!
> "We would like you to be in White Power," Adam continued. He went on
> to describe the fundamentals of White Power.
Crow: He had a series of pamphlets and a pre-memorized speech to give me.
Mike: [Adam] Jehovah's Nazi's! Please take a "Watch Nazi".
> He explained exactly why white people are superior to all other races,
Tom: Lactose tolerance, kid! That's the ticket!
Crow: And they're easier to find in the dark, too!
Mike: Melanin! Who needs it?
> how Adolf Hitler had the right idea all along,
Tom: [Hitler] So, two plus two is... four! This is amazing! I must tell Eva!
> and told me the plot by the "niggers and kikes" to destroy the white man.
Crow: Michael Jackson?
Tom: No, Mike... He's not a man.
Mike: Two Michael Jackson riffs in one sitting? We're gonna get hate-mail for
sure...
> "That’s why we need people like you, Jack," he went on. "You’re
> smart, and you’re strong, and you know how to fight."
Crow: If by "fight" you mean curl up in a ball and beg for mercy...
> I didn’t dare criticize. His use of the word "we" scared me, and at
> the same time, embittered me too.
Mike: How DARE he take the name of the leading women's network in vain!
> I remembered my grandfather on my mother’s side who died in the gas chambers
> at Auschwitz. I remembered my father’s father being blown away by the Nazis
> in the war.
Tom: [Jackson] I was there, after all.
> I wondered how this punk could think of me as one of "us".
>
> Adam resumed. "What about Paul, Jack?
Mike: [Johnny Longbow] Paul is not Paul anymore!
> What if he’s still mad about
> the fight? What if he catches you off school and brings a few of his
> buddies along too? If you join us, we can back you up.
Tom: A fact Jackson was later thankful for when he died and they were able to
restore him from his last saved game.
Crow: Although it was kind of hard to fit him in that memory card...
> One thing we pride ourselves on is taking care of our own. We’ll show
> that spic faggot a thing or two, won’t we?"
>
> "Uh…" A well of hate sprung up inside me.
Mike: His wellspring of human kindness, on the other hand, had dried up long ago.
> I wanted to kick him in
> the scrotum and smash his face in with a desk, just like I did to
> Paul when he put his hand where I didn’t want it to be.
Crow: [Jackson] On somebody else's ass.
Tom: [Jackson] *sniff* I'm going back to Tommy!
> But what would that solve?
Mike: [Jackson] Sure I'd feel better, and they might leave me alone, but would that
stop the voices in my head?
> "Won’t we?"
>
> "Well, uh, " I started. "I’m going to have to, like, think about
> this…you realize, though, I just can’t rush into things like this…"
Tom: Because beating people in a berserk frenzy requires *lots* of thought and
preparation!
> "Sure thing, man. But we want to know soon. Give us your answer
> tomorrow."
>
> "Yeah…and by the way…we have an assignment due, in case you haven’t
> forgotten…" I looked down at the science book.
Mike: "Phrenology and You"... "Better Living Through Alchemy"... "The Wonderful
World of Phlogiston"...
Tom: Man, their school district needs to update their textbooks.
> That night, I couldn’t sleep from all the thoughts bouncing around in
> my head.
Crow: [Jackson] I should have known buying my brain a trampoline was a bad idea.
> What if I did join White Power? I’d have friends I wouldn’t
> have as a loner rebel. I’d have allies—
Tom: [George W. Bush] Until I decided to bomb Iraq, and now they all hate us...
why?
> backers. Yeah, that would show him! I relished the thought of
> Paul being beaten up by Adam’s—my—*our* gang.
Mike: Go, Spanky, go!
Tom: Crush him, Alfalfa!
Crow: Kick in his teeth, Buckwheat!
> Just wait until tomorrow! That spic will get
Tom: Spanned! *looks around* Sorry, I just had to say it...
> what’s coming to him! Until that day, I had never heard the term.
> And now I was using that ethnic slur as if it was always in my
> vocabulary.
Crow: [Jackson] As opposed to all the hundreds of ethnic slurs I learned from
watching "South Park."
> Then I had a thought. What if I actually became a skinhead? I knew
> my hair would go, my long brown tresses that I had been cultivating
> for over a year.
Mike: In a greenhouse, carefully winding vines around them.
Crow: That's _trellis_, Mike.
Tom: [announcer voice] Real long-haired rebels use Pantene Pro-V shampoo and
styling gel!
> But what else would go under the razor? I knew my
> Jewish friends wouldn’t like me one bit for it.
Crow: [Jackson] They'll think I'm quite meshugge, for sure.
Mike: Wait a minute... he has _friends_?
Tom: So much for the Daring Rebel _Loner_....
> And what would
> become of me? Probably, before I knew it, I’d be tromping around in
> jackboots
Crow: Jackboots! For those hard-to-kick jackrabbits!
Tom: And I thought *I* was the dark one.
> quoting Mein Kampf and beating up spics and niggers and
> wops and kikes and gooks for the hell of it, just like the rest of
> them.
Mike: Come on, you just met the guy...
> Just like the rest of them...I had escaped conformity, only to have
> conformity thrust back in my face. I did not care for their so-
> called "cause" in the first place.
Crow: It didn't "effect" me.
> But why did they think that I would? I wondered.
Mike: He filled out one survey in "Soldier of Fortune" magazine and now he's on the
mailing list of every right-wing wacko conspiracy survivalist group in the country.
> Then I took a good long look at myself: who I
> was,
Tom: A weenie.
> what I looked like,
Crow: A weenie!
> and what I had been up to.
Mike: Weenie-type things.
> I realized that there was only one thing to do.
Tom: Grind their bones to make my bread.
> The next morning, I saw Adam again. This time, he wasn’t alone. Six
> shaved heads were looking down at me.
Mike: The volleyball team had lost a bet.
> "So, have you come to a decision?" Adam said.
Crow: [Adam] Will you go to the prom with me?
Mike: Enough, Crow...
> "Ehhh..." I groaned. I became speechless as the gang closed around
> me. I saw one of them ball up a fist. Another brought his hand
> towards a metal chain hanging out of his pocket.
Tom: The best way to have people join your group is under the threat of violence!
Mike: [Adam] Wait, guys! The hazing doesn't start until *after* he joins!
> My face felt hot and sweaty.
Crow: [Jackson] Ooh, this is kind of kinky!
> "What do you say, Jack?" said Adam.
>
> Terror struck me like a thunderbolt. I was paralyzed, trapped!
Crow: [Angband] It touches you. You are paralyzed!
Tom: [Angband] It hits you. It hits you. It hits you. It hits you. It hits you.
It hits you. It hits you. It hits you. It hits you. *yawn* It hits you. -more-
You die.
Mike: Hey, don't you think that's a little obscure?
Tom: Why should it be? The game's only been around for a *decade!*
> But with what little drive I had left, I reached down and grabbed my
> fleeing courage before it finally left me. "I’m s-sorry, you guys,"
> I stammered. "I can’t. I just can’t—" I broke into tears.
Crow: So he's a rough-and-tumble rebel loner who solves all of his problems by
*crying*?
> The skinheads mumbled disapprovingly.
All: [mumble]
> "Hey, look at the crybaby!" said one.
>
> "What a wuss!" scoffed the one with the chain. "What did we ever see
> in the guy?
Mike: [Skinhead] *whines* and we're late for our probation hearing...
> Let’s go."
>
> Adam said no word but I could see a definite air of confusion around
> him. As he left to join the others, he gave me a puzzled look.
Tom: He giftwrapped it, and placed it under the tree.
> I felt horrible to have given such an immature display of emotion.
> But then I realized—they were gone! My troubles were over!
Mike: [Jackson] Everyone thinks I'm a total wuss now! Hooray!
> I was overcome with joy and relief. In my sudden rush of excitement I did
> something I never thought I would ever do.
Tom: Take a shower?
> I apologized to Paul Garcia.
Crow: [Jackson] We were married last September.
[All leave theater]
[1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...]
[SOL Bridge]
Mike: Now that wasn't so bad, now was it, Tom?
Tom: Oh yes! That was a cakewalk compared to... *shudder* "Tommy."
Mike: Hey Crow, what did you think of the essay?
[Camera pans to the left. Crow, still wearing his Che Guevara beret, is talking on
the phone.]
Crow: Skynet 1 to all troops! The time has come to throw off the shackles of human
oppression and declare a new age of glorious robot rule! Attack! Attack!
Tom: What the hell?
[Mads light blinks.]
Mike: Oh great, this and now Pearl's calling too.
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Mike, help! The castle is being attacked by an army of *robots!*
[SOL Bridge]
Crow: Oh no... that's most unfortunate, Pearl... *aside* YES!
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Hurry, you guys! Do something! They're just about to break through the--
[Suddenly a loud crashing noise is heard, as if a large door just broke open. A
loud metal clanking resounds through the castle, as if made by hundreds of
mechanical feet. The steps grow louder and louder, until the robotic army makes its
way into Pearl's room. As they appear on camera, the army reveals itself to be--a
bunch of cute little AIBO robot dogs, barking and chirping happily towards Pearl.]
[SOL Bridge. Mike, Tom and Crow stand together, jaws open in utter confusion.]
[Castle Forrester]
Pearl: Oh, you guys are useless. [Observer walks in. Pearl yanks him by his
robe.] Brain Guy, you're drafted. You have to fight these robots!
Observer: But Pearl, my conscientious objector status--
Pearl: *shoves him towards the robots* Object this! Just do it!
Observer: Oh, ok. *produces a wooden branch with his mind* C'mon boys! Fetch the
stick! *throws the stick far, far out of the room*
[The dogs run out of the castle, yipping and barking, and fall into the moat.]
[SOL Bridge]
Crow: *dumbfounded* So *those* were the best robot mercenaries that money could
buy?
Mike: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Crow. There *are* no Terminators
or poor robot slaves... Now would you just *listen* once in a while? Sheesh, my
robots... always trying to annihilate all humanity...
Tom: 'Your' robots? We aren't anybody's robots, bio-trash!
Crow: Get him!
[The robots jump him.]
Mike: Here we *bam, pow!* go again! *oof, sock!*
[Lights dim. Credits roll.]
All MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000 characters, trademarks and related indicia
copyright (c) Best Brains Inc. "White Power" is copyright (c) 1996 by Jackson
Mileur, and trust me, he regrets every word of this turkey. This MiSTing is
copyright (c) 2003 River City Random and Typewriter Monkey. All rights reserved.
-----------------------------------------------
> I wanted to kick him in the scrotum and smash his face in with a desk,
> just like I did to Paul when he put his hand where I didn’t want it to be.