West Wing Story - Act 2

As the Dirty Hippies begin to cut into their turf, a rumble becomes inevitable.

So the Pets call a War Council.

Broder: Against the Snarks we need every man we got.

Jokeline: Friedman don't belong any more.

Punkin Haid: Cut it, "Liberal" boy. I an’ Friedman started the Pets.

Jokeline: Well, he acts like he don't wanna belong.

Cokie: Who wouldn't wanna belong to the Pets!

Jokeline: Friedman ain't been with us for over a friedman.

Bobo: What about the day we stomped the crap outta Iraq?

Kristol Hume Persuasion: Which we couldn't have done without Friedman.

O’Reilly: He saved my ever-lovin' dick!

Punkin Haid: Right! He's always come through for us and he will now.

Punkin Haid sings:

When you're a Pet,
You're a Pet all the way
From your first cocktail weenie
To your last lyin' day.

When you're a Pet,
If the Plame hits the fan,
You got Broders around,
You're a family man!

You're never too wrong,
The Beltway’s always wooin'!
You're one of the throng:
Just write down what they're spewin',
(And no interlocutin’!)

Then you are set
With a capital P,
Which you'll never forget
Till they cart you away.
When you're a Pet,
You stay a Pet!

Punkin Haid: I know Friedman like I know me. I guarantee you can count him in.

Jokeline: In, out, let's get crackin'.

O'Reilly: Where you gonna find the leader of the Dirty Hippies?!

Bobo: On the Intertubes tonight. Or any night. Hell, I crank out half a page of watery poo twice a week and it feels like a shit a 600 pound steel-wool bunny. But these bloggers? They just read and write and read and write. And they use all kinda big words.

Cokie: But the Intertubes is First Amendment territory. They...they...can talk back!

Jokeline: I'm gonna make nice there! I'm only gonna challenge ‘em.

Bobo: Great, Daddy-O! I can fluff that out to three, four columns...

Broder: So everybody talk real purdy.

ALL (sing)
Oh, when the Pets fall in at the Intertube dance,
We'll be the sweetest press gang in our old man pants!
And when the stoopids dig us with our Pet black lies,
They'll flip for our 50’s heptalk and our waxworks eyes!

Broder: Hey. Cool. Purdy. Easy. Meet Friedman and me at ten. And walk non- vituperatively!

Jokeline: We always walk non-vituperatively! Unless we’re screaming our asses off about how sassmouthy the Dirty Hippies are!

Cokie: We're Pets!

Bobo: The greatest!

Broder and Cokie (sing):

When you're a Pet,
You're the top whore in town,
You're the gold plated offal
Not just a Botoxed old clown!

Bobo, Jokeline, Punkin Haid:

When you're a Pet,
You're the top-dollar shrill:
Little poo, you're a Brooks;
Little Brooks, you're George Will!

ALL

The Pets are in fear,
Our street cred is a’reekin’!
The Blogs’ll steer clear
'Cause ev'ry Dirty Hippy a lousy chicken!

Here come the Pets
Us Octogenarian bats.
We bleat like spayed sheep
And we write like trained rats!

Here come the Pets:
Real world, step way back!
When Russert and Matthews,
And Hume host our pack!

We're drawin' the line,
So keep your “fuck you’s” hidden!
We're hangin' a sign,
Says " vituperative, foul-mouthed bloggers on the left forbidden"
And we ain't kiddin'!

Here come the Pets,
Yeah! And this is our thang.
To bend over and grab ‘em:
We’re Conservative ‘tang!
We take their whole!
Ever!
Cheney!
Lovin'!
Wang!

Yeah!