Posted on 08/07/2002 12:35:37 PM PDT by PJ-Comix
YOU'RE TRAVELING THROUGH ANOTHER DIMENSION, A DIMENSION NOT ONLY OF SIGHT AND SOUND BUT OF POLITICS. A JOURNEY INTO A BIZARRE COURTHOUSE WHOSE BOUNDARIES ARE THAT OF THE IMAGINATION. THAT'S THE SIGNPOST UP AHEAD—BEAM ME UP…TO…THE TRAFICANT ZONE.
(We see Jim Traficant standing up and screaming in a courtroom.)
TRAFICANT: THE PROSECUTOR'S CHIEF WITNESS AGAINST ME, JOHN FACARO, IS A DAMNED LIAR! AND THE HUSBAND OF THE RAILROADING JUDGE HAS BUSINESS DEALINGS WITH THAT LYING WITNESS! WHY IS THE JUDGE EVEN ALLOWED TO SERVE IN THIS TRIAL? IS THIS JUSTICE? BEAM ME UP!
(A gavel hammers loudly on the judge's desk. The nameplate says, "JUDGE LESLIE WALES." She has short grayish hair.)
WALES: The accused will cease and desist from his inflammatory outburst!
TRAFICANT (pointing at prosecutor): AND THE PROSECUTOR HERE, CRAIG MUMFORD, TRIED TO GET ANOTHER WITNESS, MR. DETOUR, TO GIVE FALSE TESTIMONY AGAINST ME UNDER A GRANT OF IMMUNITY! WHEN DETOUR REFUSED TO LIE UNDER OATH, MUMFORD THREW THE BOOK AT HIM WITH AN INDICTMENT!
WALES (banging gavel): The accused will be silent while the sentence is read!
TRAFICANT: YOU CAN IMPRISON ME BUT YOU WILL NEVER SILENCE ME!!!
WALES: Mr. Traficant, the prosecutor has asked for a 7 year sentence but because of your outrageous courtroom conduct plus the flagrant disrespect for government that you have displayed, I hereby sentence you to 8 years in a federal penitentiary.
TRAFICANT: IT IS YOU AND PROSECUTOR MUMFORD WHO SHOULD BE SENT TO PRISON BECAUSE OF YOUR JUDICIAL MISCONDUCT!
(A court deputy handcuffs Traficant and leads him out of the courtroom as he continues screaming in protest.)
. . . . . . . . . . .
(A little while later in the Judge's chamber. With Judge Wales are prosecutor Mumford, John Facaro, and her husband, Charles Clerk.)
MUMFORD: Great job, Leslie! But don't you think you were pushing it by imposing a greater prison sentence than we asked for?
WALES: I couldn't help it, Craig. All his accusations about judicial corruption were making me nervous.
MUMFORD: Don't worry. Traficant is so outlandish with his tacky clothes and horrible wig that no one will take him seriously.
WALES: Now that the trial is over, how true was your testimony about bribing Traficant, John?
FACARO (smiling): Let's just say that I treated him to a few dinners and through creative exaggeration made it sound like out and out bribery. By the way, would you and Charley like to join me for a victory dinner this evening? There's great seafood restaurant at the Flats. My treat.
WALES: Uh, yes. I guess that would be okay.
CLERK: It would be a great place for us to discuss business.
FACARO: And I have a lot of real estate deals that require legal help.
CLERK: From my law firm of course.
FACARO: Of course.
(They leave the chamber. Out of the shadows steps Rod Serling, cigarette in hand.)
SERLING: Portrait of a federal judge in Cleveland caught up in a web of judicial corruption. A judge who has sentenced a controversial congressman to a long stretch in prison for the high crime of being politically incorrect. Judge Wales thinks the congressman has been effectively silenced by sending him away to prison. However, Judge Wales is about to take a trip of her own into—The Traficant Zone.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(A prison cell. Inside is Jim Traficant. Standing outside the cell is the prison warden flanked by two guards.)
WARDEN: Prisoner Traficant! Why don't you make it easier on yourself and confess that you were in the wrong? Just make that statement and you can get your sentence reduced.
TRAFICANT (angrily): HELL NO! IT'S THE DAMN JUDGE AND PROSECUTION TEAM WHO SHOULD BE CONFESSING TO ABUSE OF POWER!
WARDEN (sighing): Well, have it your way but in the meantime I'm going to have to confiscate your wig. Prison rules don't allow for it.
TRAFICANT: That's no wig. It's my hair! I just use a weedwhacker on it.
WARDEN (chuckling): Don't make me laugh. That wig is so fake it looks like a dead squirrel sitting on top of your head.
(The warden and the guards enter Traficant's cell.)
TRAFICANT: GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!
WARDEN: Grab him, boys! That wig has got to go!
(The guards grab Traficant by each arm and the warden yanks the wig off his head. Suddenly the bald Traficant's defiant eyes become soft and fearful. His body goes limp as he drops to the floor and covers his bald head with his hands.)
TRAFICANT (sobbing on the floor): Nooo! Ohhh Nooo! Please! Please! Let me out of here! Tell the judge that I'll confess to anything she wants! I beg you! Help me!
WARDEN: Well! That's much better. Now that you've got your mind right, I think the judge will want to hear what you have to say when we bring you back to her courtroom tomorrow.
GUARD: What should we do with this wig, Warden?
WARDEN: Store it away in the Property Room. Maybe I'll put it up on eBay the next time they have a free listing day.
. . . . . . . . . . .
(Late at night in the prison Property Room. Outside there is a powerful thunderstorm. The frequent lightning flashes illuminate the inside of the property room. On one of the shelves sits Traficant's squirrel/wig surrounded by many other items. Suddenly a lightning bolt smashes through the window and strikes the squirrel/wig. As electric sparks from the lightning strike surround the squirrel/wig, it begins to pulsate slightly and falls off the shelf to the floor. Slowly the squirrel/wig slithers across the floor towards the open window and, with stronger pulsations, hops up onto the window sill. By the erratic glare of the lightning strikes, we see the squirrel wig undulating back and forth with greater and greater frequency until it seems that the elemental force of the universe is coursing through it. The squirrel/wig rears up and it appears that there are a couple of bright glints where its eyes could be. There is also the hint of a wicked smile from what might be a mouth. A loud lightning bolt strikes nearby and the squirrel/wig emits a frightening, high pitch chirping squeal. Then the squirrel/wig leaps forward from the window sill and slithers away into the stormy night.)
. . . . . . . . . . . .
(The next day in Judge Wales' chamber. Craig Mumford walks into her room.)
MUMFORD: Good news, Leslie! Traficant is now begging for mercy and we're bringing him back to court in an hour for his public humiliation.
WALES: Are you sure he won't become uncontrollable like before?
MUMFORD: Naw! Once the warden took away his awful wig, Traficant lost all his spunkiness. Right now he is like putty in our hands.
WALES: Good! I'll take care of the paperwork in the meantime. Please alert the press so they can be present to witness Traficant's change of attitude.
(Mumford leaves the room and Judge Wales begins working on some papers. After a few seconds, the door to her chamber opens slightly and a barely audible high pitch chirping sound is heard. Judge Wales looks up but sees nothing. She shrugs her shoulders and resumes her work. A short time later, a much louder chirping squeal fills the room. Judge Wales snaps her head up and is shocked to see a throbbing squirrel/wig peering evilly over the front edge of her desk. The judge screams as the squirrel/wig, with another loud chirping squeal, leaps on top of her head. Judge Wales grapples desperately with the squirrel/wig, trying to tear it from her head, and falls to the floor.)
WALES: No! NO! NOOOOO!!!
. . . . . . . . . . . .
(An hour later in the courtroom. An utterly defeated looking Traficant is sitting next to Prosecutor Mumford with his head hanging down.)
MUMFORD: Your Honor. Prisoner Traficant is now ready to express his remorse for past actions. In return we ask that the court reduce his sentence by a couple of months.
(Traficant wearily stands up and slowly opens his mouth to speak. Suddenly a loud voice cuts him off before he can begin. It is Judge Wales who we hear but don't yet see.)
WALES: PRISONER TRAFICANT IS A VICTIM OF GROSS ABUSE OF JUSTICE!
(Everybody in the courtroom looks up at the judge in shock. She is wearing the squirrel/wig on her head. The expressions on her face appear to be very similar to that of Traficant before his imprisonment.)
WALES (continuing): TRAFICANT LED THE FIGHT AGAINST GOVERNMENTAL ABUSE OF POWER BY THE IRS, THE BATF, AND THE RENO JUSTICE DEPARTMENT! HIS TRIAL WAS NOTHING BUT TRUMPED UP JUDICIAL PAYBACK!
MUMFORD (leaping up): Please stop! Are you crazy! You're going to cost me my appointment to U.S. Attorney!
(The squirrel/wig on top of Judge Wale's head seems to pulsate slightly.)
WALES: YEAH! I'M CRAAAAAAZY WITH RAGE AGAINST GOVERNMENTAL ABUSES OF POWER! NOT JUST THIS CASE BUT ALSO AT RUBY RIDGE AND WACO AND…."
(As Judge Wales rages away in the distance, Rod Serling emerges from the shadows at the back of the of the courtroom. He is smoking a cigarette and wearing a squirrel/wig on his head.)
SERLING: Submitted for your approval. A corrupt judge who found a unique brand of justice in—The Traficant Zone.
(Suddenly a crazed expression appears on Serling's face.)
SERLING (screaming): BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!!!
(Rod Serling dematerializes, except for his squirrel/wig which falls to the floor and slithers away.)
Thanks for the flag.
Detore didn't know Traficant was taping him and Traficant was "leading the witness", but it seems the Government really has done a job on both of them.
I wonder how Detore is doing now?
(Have you sent this to that b***h Wales yet? ;-)
Traficant did, and the traitors Waled on him.
But in the dark and stormy night
The Wig sallies forth
As the heavens get ready to rumble.
The Wig be bracin' traitor-rapist 42 'bout dat million from Mochtar.
The Wig be badgerin' the Butch of Buchenvald 'bout dat hundred large from Chicken Man.
The Wig be arm-twisting Algore bout' dem strategic oil reserves.
The Wig be doing the Charles Dickens on Loserman 'bout his Enron end-run donations.
The Wig will rise from the pages of P-J-Comix to depose dirty Dems in the dead of night.
As they seek sleep counting sheep they find themselves horrified by the baaaad wigs of
Beam me up pings.
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