What the Man Says

Received Opinion with Bolt Upright gets even more received!

BOLT UPRIGHT: Good evening, I’m Bolt Upright and this is Received Opinion!

[Stereocilia-singeing synth bleats over 60 cycle hum. On the screen behind UPRIGHT: A Washington Post editorial page with the headline “Perhaps This Trump Fellow is Bad for Democracy,” over which a limited-action cartoon of a laughing JEFF BEZOS, outfitted in a black suit and witch’s hat, flies, riding a broom, the bristles of which steadily erase the type on the page. Caption: A VERY NEW BROOM!]

During the last election, Washington Post publisher Jeff Bezos killed his editorial staff’s endorsement of Kamala Harris. Later his underlings killed an editorial cartoon that portrayed him as a worshipper of Donald Trump. Now Bezos has declared that his paper’s editorial section will only carry columns that endorse, quote, “personal liberties and free markets” — [sententiously] unquote.

[CUT TO FILM: A tweedy guy with a beard in a book-lined room, reading a newspaper and shaking his head slowly.]

UPRIGHT V/O: Some say this is coded language. Arlen Dewlap, a communications professor at Barium State College in Wyoming, says Bezos’ idea of liberty and markets might not be the same as yours and mine. That is, if I had an idea; as a journalist I am scrupulously neutral.

[CUT TO tighter shot of DEWLAP, with chyron “Arlen Dewlap/White Nerd, Who Cares.” Some ruckus is faintly audible outside the closed door of his office.]

DEWLAP: See, Adam Smith thought that to work, a market, even a free market, had to be regulated. But the people who talk about free markets, libertarians, the Wall Street Journal, they use the term to mean unregulated, survival of the fittest capitalism, which is diametrically —

[DEWLAP’s door flies open; we can glimpse kids partying in the hall. A man in riot police gear enters and shoves an empty banker’s box at DEWLAP.]

COP: OK, professor, you run outta luck. Pack your [BLEEP] and get outta here, we’re making this place the new student vape-torium.

[Cheering in background. CUT TO silent footage of a lot of well-dressed, youngish-to-middle-agish white men at a swank oaken bar, laughing.]

UPRIGHT V/O: The libertarians I spoke to at the Old Ebbitt Grill in Washington seemed to confirm Professor Dewlap’s view.

[SOUND ON; the white men’s raucous laughter is now audible.]

WHITE MAN #1: What, you don’t like liberty, you liberal [BLEEP]?

WHITE MAN #2: Yeah, yeah, and I bet you don’t like freedom either!

WHITE MAN #3: Your mother likes freedom! Freedom to [BLEEEEP]!

[Laughter redoubled; some of the men give Hitler salutes, whereupon their faces are pixelated. BACK TO the studio, where UPRIGHT is standing by the Decision Desk, at which are seated our old favorites PEONI DOYENNE, wearing a green Balenciaga double-sleeve pleated dress and whatever Wicked Witch of the West shoes that model is wearing; CHAFE DRAMATURGY, in a teal Todd Snyder Italian linen Sutton suit, this ridiculous Madeworn distressed t-shirt, and cream Keds; and returning veteran BUFF TOEHOLD, hair disordered, wearing a yellow polo shirt and formless grey slacks, and in his stocking feet; he has been bound to his chair with electrical tape.]

UPRIGHT: Let’s run it by our Decision Desk. Buff, first let me congratulate you on your nomination as U.S. Deputy Under Secretary of Defense for Personnel and Readiness.

[DOYENNE and DRAMATURGY give little golf claps. TOEHOLD shifts in his seat, stares into the middle distance. UPRIGHT takes from his jacket pocket an umpire’s balls and strikes clicker and holds it in his hand.]

TOEHOLD: [Almost normally] Thank you, thank you, honor to serve, honor to serve.

UPRIGHT: What will be your duties in your new position.

TOEHOLD: [Struggling a little in his bonds] War stuff. Y’know. Kill. Kill [BLEEP].

[DOYENNE and DRAMATURGY seem embarrassed but keep smiling. TOEHOLD laughs silently, squints, rolls his head. UPRIGHT clicks once.]

UPRIGHT: I see. Have you had any combat experience, Buff?

TOEHOLD: [Struggling a little more, glaring at UPRIGHT] What – what the hell kind of question is that? Hah! Culture war! Ah ha ha ha! What war were you in, you [BLEEP]?

[UPRIGHT clicks again. TOEHOLD blinks, snaps his teeth at Bolt.]

UPRIGHT: I was a war correspondent in ‘Nam. I saw a bit of action.

DOYENNE: Bolt, I’m sure Buff has had some experiences in his journalism career that were just as stressful as Vietnam, haven’t you, Buff?

[A beat. TOEHOLD looks skyward, as if hearing an alarm, then suddenly wheels on DOYENNE, screams, and attempts to charge her, dragging the chair to which he is bound. DRAMATURGY leaps up, runs off six or seven feet, then turns to watch; DOYENNE screams, whips out a small canister, and sprays something in TOEHOLD’s face.]

TOEHOLD: AAAAGH! [BLEEP] AAAAGH! [BLEEP BLEEP] AAAAGH!

[UPRIGHT clicks, makes the classic “outta here” gesture. PAGES swarm TOEHOLD and drag him and his chair away. DRAMATURGY retakes his seat. From her voluminous folds DOYENNE withdraws some Kleenex and dabs her brow and neck.]

UPRIGHT: An exciting new face for the Trump administration. Are you alright, Peoni?

DOYENNE: Oh, yes, fine. [Holds up canister] My gosh, haven’t had to use this since the 2004 Republican Convention! I’m amazed it still works. But then it is Marine issue.

UPRIGHT: While Peoni composes herself, Chafe, maybe you’d —

DOYENNE: Oh, I’m fine, and Bolt, let me say this is rather rich on Mr. Bezos’ part. I mean, Mr. Murdoch has never killed one of my columns, and sometimes, I have to tell you, I’ve been quite critical of his favorites. Just the other day I called President Trump a brute! An effective one loved by millions, but nonetheless.

UPRIGHT: Bold choice, Peoni. Chafe, before I ask your opinion, please tell me what you paid for that shirt.

DRAMATURGY: Hm? Oh, this? Well, um, I don’t know, in the low three figures?

UPRIGHT: You know what Madeworn is, right?

DRAMATURGY: Well, I can’t remember any of their tunes, but you have admit it’s a bombing, slamming design.

UPRIGHT: Chafe, I know it’s been a while since you had to file a column, but let’s say you turned in your next manuscript to — Hachette, that’s your publisher, right?

DRAMATURGY: Yep. Third year!

UPRIGHT: And let’s say they told you, sorry, Marc Andreesen bought Hachette and we’re not putting out anything liberal anymore. How would you feel?

DRAMATURGY: Well, Bolt, you know I’m all about seeing both sides of the story, and if Mr. Andreesen thought I had been spending a little too much time on the left side of things, I’m sure he’d be interested if I, say [spreads hands, purses lips], wrote a book about the forgotten, neglected Trump voter. Seen from the perspective of a sympathetic, persuadable liberal!

UPRIGHT: I see.

DRAMATURGY: [mutters something]

UPRIGHT: What?

DRAMATURGY: [leans closer to UPRIGHT, mutters something]

UPRIGHT: No, that was just a hypothetical, Chafe. But here’s something that’s not a hypothetical —

[UPRIGHT gestures and a giant TV screen descends from the flies and is suspended behind the Decision Desk.]

— let me present the new owner of our network.

[Screen flicks on to show JEFF BEZOS, visible only from the waist up, sitting in his absurd entertaining space as seen in “The Man Who Has Everything.” He is wearing this shirt.]

BEZOS: Hi, Bolt. Hi, everyone. As you know, we are America. Which means I am America. And America is Trump. So I am Trump. And just as you want to stay on the good side of your boss, you also want to stay on the good side of America. Who is Trump.

DRAMATURGY: Jeff, I love your shirt!

UPRIGHT: He can’t hear you, Chafe.

BEZOS: Of course I can hear him, Bolt. I can hear all of you and I can see all of you. So you better believe I’ll be watching and listening. And because I’m such a strong believer in personal liberties, I’m going to let you watch and listen to me too! Hit it!

[Technotronic’s “Pump Up The Jam” plays; the camera pulls back and BEZOS is nude from the waist down, with an erect penis and a cock ring. Six very young Asian girls in lacrosse uniforms swarm BEZOS and lick his body as he throws his head back and laughs.]

Nobody’s bleeping this shit, motherfuckers!

[As DOYENNE and DRAMATURGY gape, UPRIGHT rushes the camera, frantically making the “cut” gesture.]