G21 - CULTURE CAST "Fiends"

1) "School Spreads Alcohol Policy to Wine Sips in Paris"
by James Brooke for the New York Times (Sunday, 31 May 1998).
excerpts are boldly italicized.

2) "When a Lemon Drop Equals a Kilo o Cocaine"
a commentary for the Los Angeles Times by Paul Campos (Monday, 01 June 1998).
excerpts are CAPITALIZED.

"We are going through a new temperance movement,"
said Dwight Heath, a Brown University anthropology
professor who studies drinking habits around the world.

Bebe Burghoff,
a thirty six year old child, furrows her brow while watching miles of road get eaten up by the car that contains her. She reclines into the slippery, vinyl passenger seat and crosses one denimed leg over the other; her thighs sigh. Officer David Starsky is driving Bebe to the Babylon Behavior Modification Compound.

Officer Starsky thinks
"Intoxicating" as he captures a glimpse of Bebe's auburn ponytail whipping in the wind that flurries through the open passenger window. He wonders if this type of fire can ever be tamed.

A golden arch
sprawls over the serene road that leads into the squeaky-clean, glistening Babylon Behavior Modification Compound. The arch declares:
"The Keys To The Kingdom:
Self-Righteousness
Intolerance
Capital Punishment"

Birdies nest and chirp
amongst the embossed rhetoric of the untarnished arch. A surveillance camera sits within the O of Intolerance, documenting all who enter and exit Babylon. Officer Starsky has gained thousands of frequent flyer points for the many degenerates and delinquents that he has brought to Babylon to be saved. He'll probably go to Jamaica. Or maybe Rio.

Officer Starsky
will deliver the infamous and needy-for-modification Bebe Burghoff to the Babylon Behavior Modification Compound. A bird will inevitably shit on the windshield of his beloved car as he passes under the golden arch. He will be photographed and hassled by a posse of media people as he escorts Bebe Burghoff, the berserking, must-be-On-Something dissident, toward the glistening front doors of Babylon.

Cherry Creek's zero-tolerance policy statement opens by
referring to the "harmful effects of the use of tobacco,
alcohol and other dangerous drugs." In two paragraphs,
five references are made to "tobacco, alcohol and other
drug use.

Bebe's a catch; he'll get extra points.
He'll probably opt for Rio. Maybe Costa Rica. People sing and dance in these places for no particular reason. He wants a few shots of rum without thought, without analysis. He wants to wear beads and fondle the breasts of a woman who may or may not smoke.

Officer David Starsky
has had a rough year. The defection of his partner, Ken Hutchinson, had thrown Starsky into a blurry routine of grief/abandonment counseling. Hutch was always too soft, too damn wavering. Hutch had developed "issues" with slugging scourge and nabbing "bad guys." His eyes would water with sympathy every time he had to cuff a delinquent, every time he had to rough-up a degenerate. Hutch's face would pinch with perplexity whenever he emotionally revealed himself, whenever he made himself vulnerable to Capt. Dolby. Hutch would ask "But what makes the bad guys bad, Cap? Is it like a thing-in-itself?" Capt. Dolby, impatient, would reply "Aw crap Hutch, they're bad because they say so!" Capt. Dolby would bring his fist down onto his faux pine desk; his vanilla latte would hop along the surface of the desk, spewing flecks of non-fat lactose finality across the room.

Reliable sources say that Hutch shaved his head
and became Colonel Hutch; he runs an offbeat encampment of fellow defectors at the end of a black river. Colonel Hutch's heart became dark, perhaps shadowed by his own disillusionment. If only he had taken the pills; if only he had continued attending anger management workshops. He shoulda quit smoking.

And then there was the eerie, inexplicable
disappearance of Huggy Bear, Starsky and Hutch's long-time confidante and snitch. Since Huggy's eerie and inexplicable disappearance, Starsky would sometimes see him out of the corner of his eye: Huggy would grab his crotch and flip-off Starsky. Other times Huggy Bear would levitate above Starsky's bed; Huggy would levitate above Starsky in bed and Huggy would laugh and laugh in a really eerie and inexplicable manner. Officer Starsky would grab his revolver and shoot and shoot at the apparition. Starsky approached the police department Shaman for assistance; she recommended a black candle, the Lord's Prayer and a six-session drum workshop for personal empowerment.

While Officer Starsky
had learned to modify his grief and abandonment issues, he couldn't seem to resolve the apparition-of-Huggy-Bear issue. "Maybe it's like a guardian angel," the police department Shaman theorized. Starsky had also developed an addiction to nostalgia. It's always something. He would secretly fondle tie-dye on his days off. He burned incense and stared at Peter Max images. He ate donuts and watched "Shaft." He compulsively hummed the "Hawaii Five-O" theme song.

On one level, the furor seems one more case of strict
Application of zero-tolerance rules.

Officer Starsky periodically glances at Bebe Burghoff.
She's slumped in the slippery vinyl passenger seat next to him. He is provoked by her denim. Since the FAD (Firmly Against Denim) Movement had revealed the perilous magic that denim wreaks on society, particularly The Children, Officer Starsky has had to max-out his Macy's card in the men's department. Muted, innocuous hues of khakis, knits and rayons now cluttered his closet. His short legs required alterations. Sometimes he expected to see Huggy Bear grinning in between the denim stored at the back of his closet; Huggy always did love denim. Hutch, too.

Officer Starsky is hit with another wave of nostalgia.
He wants to throw back a couple of Schlitz's at a drive-in movie theater. He doesn't want to indulge the film, he wants to slip a War album into an 8-track cassette player. The original, unadultered version of Spill The Wine would play and he would walk his fingers across the rough demin of Bebe Burghoff's jeans (is that a button down fly?). Spill The Wine would play and that woman would speak French and anything becomes possible.

Officer Starsky's
reverie fades as his red chariot enters a long dark tunnel. The purr of the souped-up engine resounds within the dimly lit tunnel and this sounds like Ahhhhh.

"Bebe," Starsky says
"Bebe, Babylon is going to modify your behavior and I'm sure as hell going to miss you. I feel that we bonded on a very deep level when I arrested and interrogated you."

INDEED, IT'S BEEN A BUSY SEASON FOR THE
DISPENSERS OF JUVENILE JUSTICE.

Lulu watches
a needle-thin second hand sweep the face of a pristine white wall clock. She looks around the empty, sterile recreation room of Babylon Behavior Modification Compound: clean fun. The second hand quivers and hesitates every time it reaches 12. Lulu sits within a roomy cardboard box that once contained 500,000 nicotine patches. She prefers to wear her own patch on her head, like a yarmlke; Babylon insists that she needs Judeo-Christian religion (with an occasional exclamation point of socially acceptable New Age dogma).

In the television bolted from the ceiling of the rec room,
the Reverend John John Johnson does a rope trick; he yodels "Onward Christian Soldiers," too. A golden calf bleats.

A nurse enters the rec room.
He gnaws on a pencil as he drops pink pills, 1-2-3, in between Lulu's bare feet. "Time for your noon dose, Love Child" the nurse announces. He tosses a green pill in the air and catches it in his mouth.

"Does the Dalai Lama wear shoes?" Lulu inquires
"Beats the hell owda me. Down the hatch," the nurse says while pointing at the pills with his pencil.
"I'm thirty sex years old," Lulu says.
"I'm thirty ate," the nurse replies.
"Fuck," Lulu says.
"Don't fuckin curse," the nurse responds.

In the television,
the Reverend John John Johnson attaches himself to a cross. Vanna White spins the cross into motion with a kick of her stiletto shod foot.

OF COURSE NOBODY FORESAW THAT THINGS
WOULD WORK OUT IN QUITE THIS MANNER.

Officer Starsky
switches on the radio as he comandeers the tomato hued vehicle out of the long dark tunnel. Ahhh, look at Bebe. Her sneer adds an exquisite asymmetrical beauty to her face. Her occasional sighs, accessorized with pouts, are a titillating treat. Jimi Hendrix emits from the radio:

(Bebe presses her nose up with an index finger; she rolls her tongue around like a bitch goddess!).

Back home, Robert Tschirki, the Cherry Creek
Superintendent of Schools, announced that his
district's zero tolerance of drugs, alcohol and
tobacco extended to the City of Light.

In the television
bolted to the ceiling of the rec room, Lulu and the nurse can view the Army, Navy, Marines and CIA invade France. Smokers are shot. Wine drinkers are guillotined. Smart bombs descend on tobacco shops and vineyards. Peace-keeping troupes kick-up their heels. Reverend John John Johnson gives a wink and a thumbs-up; Vanna White holds a rescued child in her arms.

"Beaujolais: potable or poison?"
the nurse queries while gazing up at the ceiling. Lulu smiles maniacally while under the effects of the pink pills. She has a hankering for a hazelnut iced latte; maybe some Kenny G, too.

Officer Starsky peels-out through the media people
as he exits Babylon. A seven foot woman in a white lab coat had taken Bebe from him; or was it that he had handed Bebe over to her? He briefly tried to remember the contents of the latest Personal Responsibility pamphlet that he was required to read. The hem of the monstrous woman's white lab coat touched her gargantuan Nike high-tops. Sporty yet professional. Officer Starsky had hid his face in his hands as he trotted back toward his tomato hued vehicle. He had bitten one of the microphones that was shoved in his face. He had jumped through the window of his car and hot-wired it into life.

As Officer Starsky peels-out
through the media people, tears form in his eyes. He speeds under the golden arch. A bird shits on his windshield.

Bebe Burghoff
blinks furiously as white-coated behavior modification experts strap her into a chair that faces a projection screen. Her eyelids are taped open and chemicals are periodically dropped into her eyes. A cheery pep squad appears on the screen chanting "Self-Righteousness! Intolerance! Capital Punishment! Hurrah!" The pep squad shakes red pom poms and performs many impressive scissor-kicks. "I'm not that flexible," Bebe thinks.

Officer Starsky speeds
into the long dark tunnel. Huggy Bear appears on the slippery vinyl passenger seat next to him. Starsky pulls his revolver from his shoulder holster and shoots and shoots at Huggy Bear. Huggy grins and says "You gotta to save Bebe Burghoff; she's dope! You'll never forgive yourself if you don't."

"But, Huggy, she's scourge!"
Officer Starsky pleads. "I've come this far, all the way into the freakin 90's! I've maxed-out my Macy's card on muted, innocuous hues of khakis, knits and rayons! I quit smoking!" Huggy Bear begins humming the theme to "Hawaii Five-O" and Starsky weeps and weeps. "She's scourge, but, but, but I love her!" Starsky exalts as he joins Huggy Bear in humming the theme song of "Hawaii Five-O." Starsky promptly (and dramatically) whips-around the direction of his tomato hued chariot in the tunnel; the chariot's wheels screech, its engine roars. Starsky weeps and weeps; Huggy Bear lights a match on the inseam of his denim.

Fiends

by JENNIFER BLUE

G21 Staff Writer