ScreenPlay for "Chelsea Does Philosophy"

First Scene:

The backdrop here is a screenshot of the "Squatty Potty" commercial. Superimposed in front of it are both Jeff and Chelsea (real time digital overlay green suits portraying Jeff in a business suit, and Chelsea in same tailored for a woman. Jeff does not have a head, or neck so much, for that matter, as a penis with eyes over the central hole. The "head" of the penis is bent forward enough so that it can "face" the camera, and the hole altered enough to suggest a mouth. Chelsea has a Vagina for a head, stretched down enough at the base for form a neck. Her eyes are over the opening as well which, even though vertical, still serves to indicate a mouth. Both have ordinary enough arms and legs, but neither have hands. Both of them also have bulges in their pants that outline small, actual heads)

The scene starts with Chelsea looking around in wide eyed amazement for a second or two before beginning the opening dialogue.

Chelsea:
"What the fuck! Are you fucking shitting me here?"

Jeff -- smiling grandly:
"Pretty far out, hugh?"

Chelsea:
"Is that a unicorn shitting ice cream cones?"

Jeff:
"Indeed. This, though you might not think so at first glance, was intended to be a serious attempt at not being serious in the selling of an aid to shitting."

Chelsea:
"Why are we starting here? And why am I talking out of a vagina? What has any of this to do with Philosophy?"

Jeff throws up his hands in mock surrender. The smile goes away and is replaced by a sad resignation:
"Hey... Nobody gets it more than I do. It's a sad commentary, but here it is. The juxtaposition is a needed contrast I'm afraid. Getting through to people to talk about things they are either uncomfortable about, or for which they are not only that, but buzzed out to boot, requires a kind of war of metaphors. Which is just "Counter Blast" by another name; shameless buzz word dropper that I am."

Chelsea:
"Counter Blast?"

Jeff:
"Yes. A Marshall McLuhan term. No need to go into that now though, save to say that we'll be using a bunch of old cliches banging away at each other in new ways to make a larger point."

Chelsea laughs now:
"And that's one of the reasons why we have sex organs to talk through."

Jeff:
"Exactly. And why our heads are in our pants"

Chelsea, looking down:
"So that's what that bulge is supposed to be. If its up our asses so much why is it out front down there? "

Jeff:
"Well... Come on... Everything's going to be a bit of a stretch here... Don't you think?"

Chelsea:
"Apparently not if that's where my head starts the day. But I will grant you, that does put it closer to where it's likely to head out after breakfast."

Jeff smiles:
"I knew there was a reason you'd be good at this."

Chelsea:
"Yeah yeah... So what's this episode going to be titled?"

Jeff:
"Waiting for Godot is what occupies us now you know"

Chelsea:
"Say what?"

Jeff:
"That's the title. And I will be the Master of Ceramony for it."

Chelsea:
"And I'm supposed to be the T's. and V. along for the ride? In your dreams Dr. Dick. And by the way. Why can't I be the one who gets to talk with a dick? I bet I know just as much about 'it don't mean a thing if it ain't got the swing,' if not more, than you do."

Jeff moves his mouth to a kind of thoughtful pout as he considers this for a moment:
"Shit. Good point. And truth be told, I may have some serious balls, but a major dick I do not have. That makes you a better expert on dicks on two counts. I guess we'll have to switch."

The switch is made and Chelsea laughs now:
"You didn't really think you had to have a dick to be, or know, a dick did you?"

Jeff:
"Well, if I did I certainly shouldn't have. And I have to admit that, though talking with a vertical mouth is a bit disconcerting, the emphasized lips do have an odd appeal to them. In any case, however, I need to be M.C. for a very simple reason. Do you even know why Sara needs to be moany in the first place, let alone, how to accomplish that?"

Chelsea, groaning:
"Oh god... Please do not tell me to don't leave in a huff!

Jeff:
"See... You really are getting into the spirit of things here. I'm also going to be the one to lead us off with our song and dance number."

Chelsea looks a Jeff with great suspicion now:
"You're going to start a philosophical discussion with a song and dance number?"

Jeff:
"Of course. They wouldn't enjoy the massage at all if it didn't start with a jingle and some fancy footwork. We're going to illustrate what the 'real' Hokey Pokey is."

The tune to "Hokey Pokey" now breaks out. Their attire immediately changes to top hats, tuxedos with tails, and fancy canes.

Jeff:
"Oh, you put your right side in and your bad side out, you put your head up ass and you shake it all about, you put your nose to a grind stone and give up without a shout, that's what it's all about."

[Author's notes: This needs at least one more refrain here, which illudes me at the moment. I am open to suggestions however]

At the chorus, when they both sing "Do the Hokey Pokey" they bob and bump genital heads together in a mocking sort of coitus, all to the beat of the melody of course.

When the song is over, Chelsea, a little out of breath rejoins the conversation as she twirls her fancy cane:
"You know, it just occurred to me that I don't have any hands, and yet I can hold this cane."

Jeff:
"Of course. That's the invisible hand of the market. Very powerful in the right socket-to-you outlet. Just don't fall down though."

Chelsea frowns at him with no small amount of anger:
"You don't know this about me so I'm going to cut you some slack. I really really hate being the straight man in a comedy piece. You try to make me ask the setup line to a funny come back and I will beat you bloody with this cane."

Jeff:
"Sorry. You don't want to fall down because having invisible hands makes it abundantly clear why no one should even think, let alone want, to try to lend you one. It's not there to actually do anything humanly useful with after all. But as you so admirably pointed out, it certainly knows how to leverage a mean 'beat me stick.' "

Chelsea:
"Ok. This is really starting to sound a lot more political than philosophical. I get it that you are also into radical politics, but what does that have to do with philosophy?"

Jeff:
Well, the problem is that's exactly the problem. You't can't talk about how you should consider the nature of things, as you go about your daily business, without also talking about what is the nature of your business in the first place. Just as you must be the change you wish to see take place, you have change the way you go about being in order to have a fundamentally new starting point for either. And how does one do that if one is already blitzed out with the message of making thy brand thy label?

Chelsea has now brought the cane up threateningly close to Jeff's head.
"What the fuck did I just tell you. Do I have to remind you about the parable of the guy beating a mule with a two by four?"

Jeff pauses with mouth open for only a few heart beats:
"Quite right. Quite right. You already have my attention. And apologies for any condescension that may be on display here. I am foolishing mistaking the possibility of not being into something as not having bothered to look at all.

"What I'm trying to illustrate here can be expressed with this example; something I myself have fallen prey to, even if in a slightly different way. Why have women been talked into shaving their vagina's? Ostensibly it is to satisfy another redefinition of what is fashionable, just as men have been sold on outlandish musculature in order to be men, with the same chrome and paneled excess on their trucks.. The thing is, however, once you do that you are really making yourself as much a product as the curvey cars we've given feminine lines to. With hair down there you are at least partly the semi wild animal nature intended you to be. And it is only because we give curvey lines to so many other things that makes it so difficult for us to take you seriously as anything more than just sensuous animals, or products.

Unfortunately, the only philosophy we seem to have now swirls around variously shared concepts of "piety and profits, the certainty of easy answers serving unquestioned dogma, and that right and wrong are fine so long as they don't threaten the privilege of the powerful. What we are for, in that context, is hard work and playing by their rules. Where work and play are two sides of the same coin; distraction as occupation. As well as where any deity one might imagine can be warped over to being the ultimate ledger keeper, balancing up not only the chits of good and bad behavior, but whether you continue to believe in the nonsense in the first place. Because being good or bad isn't nearly as important as having adoring fans are.

The entirety is a great deal more than simply cold facts that supposedly have only a "rational" aragnement; which is where survival of the most fit can warped into any oppressive economic mold. It is also, however, a great deal more than just unthinking gratification ether; where creation and destruction go hand in hand without pause for meaning. It is an unimaginably immense, recursive, question answer engine where the answer begs the next question, bringing the next answer to keep the process going. Meaning is immensely important, but it is always fleeting because of the back and forth of the question and the answer. We are essential as sentient meaning processors for we encorporate both the mind to make objectification possible, but an essential animal link to feeling so as to understand the Elemental Embrace as something more than simply filtered information.

None of this is going to make any sense to you, however, if you continue doing the "Hokey Pokey" as we've been sold on it now. Which is no more than to say that what you poke your nose into, how you do that poking, and what purpose that poking serves, has just as much to do with what is "business as usual," as with what are we and what are we for."

Chelsea:
"I knew that. Can I see just how small your dick is now?"

Jeff:
"Only if I can have a feel for how deep your curiosity goes. When, and if, I tickle your fancy of course."