The State (1993–2009): Season 4, Episode 2 - Episode #3.8 - full transcript

(male announcer) And now the
fartling conclusion of The State.

Well, here we are at
the 27th international

hokey pokey competition,
and it looks like we've got

some fine hokey
pokey-ers with us this year.

(man) It sure does, Bob.

You know, these athletes
have been training for months,

putting various parts
of their body in and out

and shaking them all
about from dawn till dusk.

And here comes the bell.

[bell dings]

♪ Put your left foot in... ♪



[whistle blows]

Ah!

Oh, they all blew it.

Not a good year in
this competition, Bob.

No, not at all; you know,

you can blame
nerves or the coaches,

but no one's going home
with the gold this year.

These guys suck at hokey pokey.

What a bunch of ass...

[punk rock music]

(man) ♪ Boys and girls. ♪

(chorus) ♪ Action! Action! ♪

♪ ♪

(man) ♪ Boys and girls. ♪



(chorus) ♪ Action!
Action! Action! Action! ♪

♪ ♪

(man) ♪ Na, na-na, na-ah, mm. ♪

♪ Na, na-na, na-ah, mm. ♪

♪ Na, na-na, na-ah, mm. ♪

♪ Na, na-na, na-ah, mm. ♪

♪ Na, na-na, na-ah, mm. ♪

(man) Hello, I'd
like to talk to you

about a very special
group of athletes

who are in need of your support.

In 1981, the U.S. Men's Bikini
Thong Rollerblading Team

was founded with
one goal: to bring to life

the classic plays
of the '30s and '40s

as performed by
men in bikini thongs

on Rollerblades.

From our very first production

of Thornton Wilder's Our Town...

Did you finish your
homework yet, George?

Just about.

Get your fresh milk here.

(man) To 1985's
award-winning production

of The Glass Menagerie...

Oh, I don't do anything much.

Please don't think I
sit around or anything.

My glass collection takes
up a good deal of time.

Glass is something you
have to take good care of.

(man) To 1993's revival

of Clifford Odets' rousing tale

of the struggle for union
labor, Waiting for Lefty...

We'll die for what is right!

Well, what's the answer?

(all) Strike! Louder!

(all) Strike! Again!

(all) Strike! Strike!
Strike! Strike!

Friends, for several reasons,

the U.S. Men's Bikini
Thong Rollerblading Team

is not sponsored by
the Olympic Committee.

If you've enjoyed
these productions

of classic plays
of the '30s and '40s

by men in bikini
thongs on Rollerblades,

then please make a
donation, however small,

to the USMBTRT.

A $25 donation gets
you this handsome

U.S. Men's Bikini Thong
Rollerblading Team duffel bag

and the U.S. Men's Bikini
Thong Rollerblading Team

Classics on Tape,

your choice of You
Can't Take It with You

or Lillian Hellman's
popular favorite,

The Little Foxes,

the perfect gift for
certain occasions.

I like to listen to it
while I'm relaxing

or out on the town.

And remember:
teammates on Rollerblades

in Bikini Thongs performing...

(all) Classic plays
of the '30s and '40s!

Uh, excuse me, sir.

Can you direct me to
the nearest Radio Hut?

Thank you.

Anybody home?
Mom, Dad, I'm back!

Buddy, my college
boy, you're home!

Frank, your son is home!

Mom, what happened to your arm?

Oh, it's nothing.

I had a small
operation on my wrist.

I almost lost my
hand. It's nothing.

You had surgery?
Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to worry you.
You were taking your finals.

I didn't want to
worry you. Worry me?

Mom, I want to know
if you have surgery.

Buddy, my boy! You're home!

Dad!

What the hell happened to you?

Oh, this? Well, I didn't want
to worry you during finals.

I got shot.

It was a graze,
nothing to worry about.

Uh, they had to take
out a little bit of my head.

But it's nothin' I use,
though, right, honey?

[laughs]

Hello?

When did this happen? Dad.

Oh, a couple of days
ago, right after I got

this concrete block
lodged in my back.

But, honey, you know,

my sweetheart, you got to study.

You can't be worrying
about us, right?

Dad, I think you
could have told me.

(Phil) Buddy! Uncle Phil?

[shrieks] Uncle Phil!

Yeah, fell into a helicopter.

I didn't want to
worry you, though.

You know, you got
your finals and all.

(Mary) Buddy?

(Buddy) Mary? Mary.

Why didn't you tell me
about Mom and Dad?

Buddy, is that you?
What happened?

I donated my optic
nerves to Cousin Ray.

Is he okay?

He has perfect vision now,

but he got elephantitis.

Buddy, Hey!

Lookin' good, kiddo!

Lookin' good!

(Buddy) Where's Grandma
Dolly and the orphans?

Oh, well, it's been a bad
week for them in general.

[wood cracks]

Don't worry about
them right now.

Tell us, honey, how
did your finals go?

Well, they were
postponed until tomorrow.

I, uh, came home to study,

but I don't think I'll be
able to concentrate now

with you all dumping
all your problems on me.

Me, me, me, me,
me, me, me, me, me!

My arm.

My eyes.

My orphans.

What about my finals?

I'll be up in my
room trying to study.

Gimme that!

Should, uh, we tell him
about the snakes up there?

He's studying.

(Buddy) Snakes! Snakes!

Snakes!

Snakes, snakes, snakes!

[man on TV] Should we tell
him about the snakes up there?

(woman) He's studying.

(boy) Snakes! Snakes!

[phone rings]

Hello?

[man breathing
heavily] Oh, Susan.

Yes. Who's this?

I'm sitting in my house, Susan.

[panting]

I'm wearing a pair of
khakis and a sweater.

What do you... what do you want?

I want to come
over there, Susan.

I want to take you in my car.

I'm sorry?

It's an '85 Escort, Susan.

Ha-ha, I want to take you

to Bennigan's.

Ooh.

I want chicken wings.

I want potato skins.

Uh-huh.

This is Robert,

your friend from the office.

I know, Bob. I
asked you to call me.

I see you every day, Susan.

Right, because our
cubicles face each other.

Yes!

Aha-ha-ha, yes! Yes.

So Bennigan's tonight?

Yes! Yes.

Okay, what time?

I was thinking 8:00!

Ah! Ah! 8:00.

That sounds fine.

And afterwards, Susan,

ooh, I'm gonna drop you off

and head home

and call it a night,

'cause I have an early meeting.

Okay, I'll see you at 8:00.

[panting] Ah. Hmm.

[phone rings]

[calmly] Hello?

Hi, Robert, I just realized.

I forgot to give you my address.

You again?

I know who you are.

[tearfully] Stop calling me!

[whispers] Oh, God.

[whistling]

Ah.

(man) Hi, there. Howdy.

You're our mailman,
right? Yes, sir.

So you're the one

who's been delivering
tacos to us every day.

How do you like 'em?
Oh, yeah, I love 'em.

They're really,
really great tacos,

but I'll tell ya, uh...

Jake. Jake.

I'll tell ya, Jake, the
wife and I noticed

that, uh... since the
tacos started coming,

the mail doesn't so
much come as often

or at all.

Jake, what I'm getting at is,

where's our mail?

Yeah, you want to
know about the mail.

Here's the mail situation.

I can't fit both the mail
and the tacos in the bag.

It's hard enough
fitting the tacos.

I'll level with ya.

These bags weren't
designed for tacos.

That's kind of what
I'm getting at, Jake.

Well, don't tell me you're
having a problem with the tacos.

Jake.

I love the tacos, okay?

They... they're maybe the
best tacos I've ever had.

It's just that...

well, I think if I had to choose

between the tacos and the mail,

I'd have to choose the mail.

Okay, uh...

I'm gonna take a breath here.

I'm afraid you might
be saying something

you don't quite mean.

What I'm hearing is,

you don't want the tacos.

Great tacos today, Jake!

Jake, you have
to bring the mail.

If we want tacos,

we can always go to Taco Shack.

You're not gonna
eat that crap, are you?

Jake, if I miss my mail,

I don't pay my bills,

and I could lose my house.

Oh, so your concern

is the importance
of getting your mail.

Yes.

Bills and stuff. Yes, yes, yes.

Oh.

You know, you're right.

I'm sorry.

I just don't have
the same passion

for delivering mail as I do

for making and
distributing tacos.

You know, I quit.

I don't know what I'm gonna do.

Wait, Jake,

you could probably
get a job selling tacos

to customers on
a voluntary basis.

Listen,

I just died inside,

and I don't really
feel like talking.

So is he gonna start
delivering our mail now?

I don't know, sweetheart.

But I do know this:

that was the
longest conversation

I've ever had.

Good-bye, mailbox.

Bye-bye.

(man) Once upon a time,
there were three guys.

One was a Jew.

['70s-style theme music]

One was an Italian.

♪ ♪

And one was a redhead gay.

♪ ♪

And they were all living
together on Avenue A.

But I took them
away from all that.

Now they work for me.

I'm a WASP.

♪ ♪

(women) ♪ The Jew. ♪

♪ ♪

♪ The Italian. ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Redhead gay. ♪

♪ ♪

(Michael) Okay, boys,

your mission is
to find this man.

I'll check all the banks

and money-lending
institutions, Michael.

Great, and since all my
relatives are in the Mafia,

I'll check there.

And while I'm there,
I'll eat some lasagna.

I'll check the flower shops,

the Streisand section
of the record store,

and the docks,

just in case our
guy's on shore leave.

That's quick thinking, guys,

but this missing
person is an Irishman,

so you should check...

(all) The bars!

We're on our way!

(Michael) Let's
be careful, boys...

and girl.

Wh... Michael.

Sorry, angel.

[hearty laughter]

(male announcer)
Arnold Brown doesn't.

Arnold Brown voted against it.

Nice job, guys.

Where'd you find the Irishman?

Right where we thought, Michael,

at Blarney O'Reilly's.

Drinking Guinness
and getting in fights.

Beating the hell out of
a five-foot Puerto Rican.

But I'm okay. Gracias, guys.

I guess the luck I'm
supposed to have,

what with being Irish and all,

ran out.

[hearty laughter]

(all) Oh, boy.

So, Michael, I
thought after this case,

we'd finally get a chance to see

that White Anglo-Saxon
Protestant face of yours.

All in good time, boys.

All in good time.

[high, gasping laughter]

Welcome back to Sports Beat,

where sportswriters talk sports.

Our final topic:
up-and-coming sports talents.

Carl. Yeah, Pat.

I was at a Michigan
basketball game last weekend,

and there was a
kid, Stan Lewis...

Remember that name.

He was still a little
raw around the edges.

Still raw, sure.

He did not make a single shot,

but there was something
in the way he moved!

And he was easily

60, 70 pounds overweight!

But I tell you,

he was like a young,

fat, slow,

dumb Michael Jordan.

Pat, if I may,

I, too, saw a kid
destined for greatness.

I was at an Indiana
game two nights ago,

and I saw this kid
named Mildred Cooper.

A lady, I'm guessing.

Older lady.

But still, heck of a
basketball player.

No, never even seen the game.

She'd been working at the
stadium's concession booth

for 20 years, but her style,

her panache...

When Mildred Cooper
decides to enter

the professional
sports system...

Which disillusions

so many older,
out-of-shape ladies.

She will be...

she will be the next
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

Good name.

Great name.

Very, very funny in Airplane.

Somebody else you're
gonna hear from...

Remember you
heard it here first.

(Pat) Heard it here.

From me. From you.

Scott Freeman.

I was at a Bulls
summer training camp.

I didn't get to see him
play any scrimmages,

because he'd been cut in half

in a horrible elevator
accident in the 1940s,

but there was
something in his eye,

something about the
way he leaned there,

sobbing,

that said that this was the kid.

This was the next

Isaiah Thomas.

Wow. Wow.

My future superstar
pick of the week?

Joe Turbinson. Joe Turbinson.

Joe Turbinson, 218 years old.

Dead? Long dead.

Died at birth, I think.

Somebody had
saved him in a little jar.

He had weathered well, though.

He had not weathered so well,

and yet this rotten, moldy

goo mess in a jar,

with good coaching:

the next Larry Bird.

Maybe also the next
William S. Burroughs.

Great writer. Junkie.

Old, old, old junkie,

shot his wife.

Ran off with a 14-year-old boy.

Great, old, gay

junkie writer.

Joe Turbinson:
stake my career on it.

And remember, I'm the guy
who spotted Magic Johnson

when he was a little oily rag
that smelled like paint thinner

stuck underneath a truck.

We're out of time
on Sports Beat.

[all singing out of tune] ♪ By
the light of the silvery moon, ♪

♪ I want to spoon. ♪

(male announcer)
And now alcoholism!

[Stars and Stripes
Forever playing]

Ever since the dawn of time,

booze has systematically
ruined the lives of men and women

and boys and girls worldwide,

causing tremors, the
shakes, blurry vision,

slurred speech,
and heart disease,

destroying families,
businesses, cars,

creating birth defects,
homelessness, and misery

for everyone across the globe.

Alcoholism, we salute you!

(Michael) Hi, we're The State.

You know how when
somebody on a TV show dies,

the members of that TV show
create a little tribute to them?

Well, nobody on our show died,

but we went ahead and made

one of those cool
montages anyway,

because we thought
it would be funny.

Well, not so much funny as sad.

But in a funny way.
(Michael) Right.

So we voted on
who we wanted dead,

and it was unanimous.

It's Ken. Whoa.

(Michael) Ken's dead.

I... I voted for Joe.

Dead members' votes don't count.

I'm fine.

Mom, Dad, don't worry.

We're not worried.

Yeah, I'm fine.

So now, without any further ado,

our tribute to our
first dead member,

Kenneth Joseph Margaret Marino.

We'll miss you, Ken.

I'm fine. I'm fine.

[dreamy R&B music]

♪ ♪

Yeah. I'm fine.

(woman) ♪ Something
that I can't describe. ♪

♪ And even though I
feel scared inside, ♪

♪ somehow you
make it all right. ♪

♪ ♪

[cheering]

I'm fine.

(woman) ♪ And the pain
is just a part of it all. ♪

♪ ♪

♪ But I think that you
will be there for me ♪

♪ if somehow I start to fall. ♪

Ken, you could
never be replaced,

but we did replace you.

And we'd like you to
meet our newest member,

Ken's dad, Richie Marino.

I wanna dip my balls in it!

[laughter]

You're much funnier than Ken!

I'm fine.