EXT. CAR BUMPER - DAY

W’04 sticker sits squarely on the bumper until, in a flash, it’s ripped off, leaving white paper stuck in its place, a sponge washes over the paper, scrubbing, followed by a razor blade, scratching, diggings under the paper, various fingers pulling away pieces of the sticker, old, young, dark skinned, light skinned, male, female, chip away piece by piece, leaving only the indelible stain of the outline of the sticker.

INT. CAR - FREEWAY - DAY

Car heads down the freeway, other cars get on, get off, weave in front, dense traffic all around, freeway signs come one after the next, myriad of sedans, pick up trucks pass one another, signs for 86th street, 56th, 21st fly by in quick blurs, an outdoor board displays the latest ad for the Bob and Tom show, houses large and small, neighborhoods new and old, in the distance downtown emerges, getting closer and closer.

All the while J.T., torn jeans, heavy metal t-shirt, work boots, american flag bandana, three inches thick, holding back his greasy hair, clearly the brains of the operation, at least the sharper of the two butter knives, takes us down the highway.

DEL ROY (O.S.): Now?

J.T. (still looking straight ahead): No! Not yet!

Pan to the right to see DEL ROY, built big, corn fed, born follower, the other half of the pack of two, dull witted, satisfied with his place in life, J.T.’s faithful assistant, slave more like it, sits in the passenger seat, holding something unseen, dumb founded.

DEL ROY: How’s bout now?

J.T. beats his hands on the steering wheel.

J.T: No! Not now! Not in five minutes! Not in ten minutes! Not until I damn well say so!

Del Roy nods his head “yes”, submissive, with every intent of doing what he’s told, continues to fiddle with the item in his hands, looks up.

DEL ROY: It’s just that...

J.T.: It’s just nothing and don’t you go pestering me now. You hear me?

Del Roy nods his head “yes”.

J.T.: I don’t want to hear another word about it not until I tell you so.

Del Roy looks back down examining the unseen item in his hands.

DEL ROY: (looking up like a wounded puppy): J.T.

J.T.: What?!

Del Roy looks back down at his hands for a beat, then looks back at J.T., speaks as if the words just slipped out of his mouth.

DEL ROY: How’s bout now?

J.T. beats on the steering wheel, pounds the back of his head into the seat, screaming at the top of his lungs.

J.T.: God! Damn! Mother! Bastard! You good for nothing, heifer tipping, manure for brains, dirt kicking, ditch digging, ignorant ass, white trash talking, son of a bitch!

Del Roy looks up, back at J.T., a question percolates up to his lips.

DEL ROY: How’s about now?

J.T. collapses into his seat.

J.T.: OK. Now.

Del roy throws his arms into the air and holds up a bumper sticker that says “W ‘04”.

All goes black except for the bumper sticker. The ‘04 shoots off the screen, the words “Where’s the” creep in from the right, bumping over the “W” a space away, a question mark drops into read “Where’s the W?”.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. CAR - FREEWAY - CONTINUOUS

J.T. continues to drive. W’4 bumper stickers prominently positioned all around him with a picture of George “W” dangling from the rear view.

J.T. (talking to us): We’re out here on a mission today. A mission of truth. You see, they’d like us to believe the American people have lost faith in good old “W” but that just a bunch of bull malarkey. Ain’t that right Del Roy?

DEL ROY: Sure is. (thinking, trying to remember) Who are they again?

J.T.: The Jews of course! They control the damn media you know. Every thing we see and hear. It’s not enough they got all the money, they don’t want nobody thinking on their own. All them Schwartzensteins and Goldenfarbs. They’re afraid of what we might do.

DEL ROY: What’s that?

J.T.: Figure em out. Know what they’re up to. I’ll tell you som’tin nobody manipulates J.T. Walker.

DEL ROY (thinking again): J.T., why you suppose they want and go do something like that fur?

Not believing the question, looks over at Del Roy.

J.T.: Why? You want to know why?

Del Roy nods, partly wanting to know, partly afraid of the revelation J.T. is about to impart.

J.T. (cont’d): Cause we’re becoming the minority in our own country. It’s a God Damn shame and if we’re not careful, that Jew media’s going to go and get that black fellow Bama elected...getting all them black folks all riled up then we’re going to be in a mess a trouble. You know, it wasn’t that long ago men like you and me ran this country.

Del Roy surprised, gives a look as if he realized he were born of noble blood until J.T. rips the carpet out from underneath him.

J.T. (cont’d): Now, look at it...bunch a crazy ass, hip hop, screaming fools. If we’re not careful, we’re going to go and give the whole thing to the Mexicans.

DEL ROY: I think they like to be called Hispanic or Latino Americans?

J.T. slaps his hand on the dash.

J.T.: I don’t care what they like to be called! How’s we supposed to keep all them countries straight anyhows -- Guats-temala, Ven-zuala, I-ran. They’re all a bunch of Mexicans to me and if we’re not careful they’re going to take over the whole country.

DEL ROY: How they going to go and do something like that?

J.T.: They’re already doing it. They’re coming over the border by the truck load. They gots themselves a tunnel runs straight from Mexico City to Los Angeles -- saw it on the t.v. Hell, they just about taken over the whole of Cali-fornia and now they’re marching East.

DEL ROY: They’re coming here to Indiana?

J.T. nods “yes”. Del Roy thinks for a beat, scratches his head, looks at J.T.

DEL ROY (cont’d): Why you suppose them Mexicans want come all the way out here fur any how?

J.T.: It’s all part of their plan. First, it’s all them crap jobs nobody wants and then BAM! They call ‘em SLEEPER CELLS. They’re just waiting.

DEL ROY: Waiting for what?

J.T.: Take over. What else? (letting the story unfold) First it’s all the good jobs, then our houses, all the good looking women, soon there won’t be nothing left for simple folk like you and me.

DEL ROY: You don’t think they’re going to take Momma’s trailer now, do you?

J.T.: Damn straight they will.

DEL ROY: We can’t let them do that.

J.T.: Trust me brother, we ain’t about to but first we gots to see how bad it really is.

EXT. GREENWOOD - STREET - DAY

J.T. and Del Roy stand in front of a sign that reads “Greenwood, Indiana Population est. 36,112”. Del Roy smiles big as can be, holding J.T. just a little too tight.

J.T. (becoming more annoyed by the second): That’s why we’re here in the heart of America, GREENWOOD, INDIANA. This is Republican country. If we’re going to find “W” anywhere, it’s going to be here.

Del Roy squeezes even tighter, J.T. pushes him away.

J.T. (cont’d): Get off me you dim witt!

INT. CAR - DAY

The car pokes its way down one aisle after the next, passing car after car, both hanging out the window, searching one car after the next, still no “W” stickers.

J.T.: It don’t make no sense.

DEL ROY (turning to J.T.): Where you suppose they all went to?

J.T. thinks hard.

J.T.: Don’t exactly know but I got me an idear.

EXT. MALL - DAY

J.T. and Del Roy stand outside the mall entrance talking to people entering and leaving optionally could be a busy street with people coming and going), people, old, young, rich, poor, mostly white, middle class, Republican base.

J.T. Stands with a microphone in hand.

J.T. (talking to us): Hey there, y’all. Me and my brother Del Roy...

Del Roy stands behind J.T. with a wheel on top of a pole with a big picture of George “W” at its center with a pointer meant to measure George “W”’s approval rating between 1 and 100.

Del Roy smiles big for camera.

J.T. (cont’d): Are here at the mall doing what they call an exit poll. For those of you that ain’t to bright on politics that’s when we asks people coming out what they think?

Del Roy leans on J.T. and whispers something in his ear. J.T. Takes the hat in his back pocket, wacks Del Roy hard across the head, then the chest, anything else he can find.

J.T.: Get off me you dumb son of bitch. (still beating on Del Roy) They know we going be asking people going in as well they don’t need me telling that. (turning back to the camera) Del Roy here will be measuring “W”’s approval rating. Ain’t that right?

Del Roy nods, recovering from his beating, breaking a smile big for the camera.

J.T. approaches different people, leading with the mike, asking questions, soliciting reactions, some people are welcoming, others evasive. Some people approach eagerly, others chased down, still others evade him with fast walk if not a full out run.

In interview style, J.T. poses the same questions to middle class Americans, Harley riders, black, white, immigrants, old, young and anyone else he can find trying to get the answers he’s looking for.

SITUATION #1

J.T. (cont’d): Let me ask you something? Who you suppose was a better President Abraham Lincoln or George “W”?

J.T. improvises, digs, half listens, not getting the answer he wants.

J.T. (cont’d): Anybody can end a civil war but it takes a real wrangler to start one. Don’t you think?

J.T. passes the microphone back, improvises, half listens.

J.T. (cont’d): OK, then. Why don’t you go and show us where you think old “W” rates.

Del Roy steps forward. The person gives “W” an unsatisfactory rating. J.T. gives Del Roy a look, no response, J.T. gives him a quick kick to the shins and Del Roy pulls a string sending the needle to 100%, very satisfied.

J.T. (cont’d) (to the camera): Lookie there, we got us another satisfied constituent.

J.T. quickly dismisses the participants

SITUATION #2

J.T. (cont’d) Tell me what’s your favorite “W” moment?

J.T. improvises, takes the good, the bad.

J.T. (cont’d) Go ahead now, show us where you think old “W” rates.

No matter where the dial lands, Del Roy makes sure it goes to 100%.

SITUATION #3

An Indian or Pakistani rates George “W”.

DEL ROY: You ain’t really going to take Momma’s trailer now are you?

Completely confused they make their rating.

SITUATION #4

J.T. approaches a number of different people, some black, some white, some voice support, others get in his face.

J.T.: It’s common to name things after great Americans. I mean Regan and Kennedy got them selves airports, Lincoln’s got himself a mall and hell even that Martin Luther King got himself a whole day. I’m not so sure I completely understand that one.

J.T. improvises, takes the wrath and support.

J.T. (cont’d): What you suppose we should name after “W”?

After a negative reaction, J.T. looks shocked, rushes them off. Del Roy leans in.

DEL ROY: He didn’t give no rating.

J.T.: I know. That’s what we call in the business a victim of the cutt’n room.

SITUATION #5

Somebody doesn’t like their rating being manipulated gets in Del Roy’s face. He drops to his knees in fear covers face and starts screaming.

DEL ROY: J.T.! HELP!

SITUATION #6

J.T.: I was watching THE t.v. the other night and they had this fancy JEW lawyer on saying that even if the whole country wanted “W” back in office, he couldn’t run.

J.T. points the mike to the participant getting their reaction, pulls the mike away.

J.T. (cont’d): Who the hell wants some JEW telling them who they can and can’t vote fur. Come on now, wouldn’t you like to give “W” another whirl?

He half listens to the response, leads them over to the wheel.

J.T. (cont’d) Why don’t you come on over here and show us how you’d vote.

Del Roy makes sure they all hit 100.

SITUATION #7

J.T. (cont’d): Who would you say are the five greatest Americans to ever live?

J.T. waits eagerly to here George W in the list but becomes more and more disappointed as they reach the end without mentioning him.

J.T. (cont’d): Where you suppose George “W” ranks in that list?

J.T improvises, digs, half listens.

J.T. (cont’d): He’s got to be better than somebody. Who would that be?

Not liking the answer, J.T. shuffles them over to Del Roy.

J.T. (cont’d): O.K. well why don’t you show us how Old “W” rates?

Del Roy keeps the string pull taught enough that they can’t go below 75%, fighting with the contestants, finally conceding, waiting for them to leave, yanking it back to 100.

SITUATION #8

Somebody gives “W” a bad rating. Del Roy adjusts it to 100. The person goes after Del Roy. In three stooges fashion, Del Roy weaves in and out of the crowd, dancing around the pole and the “W” meter, avoiding capture.

EXT. MALL - EVENING

The sun begins to set over the mall, J.T. and Del Roy stand alone.

J.T. (talking to us): I think we did what we done set out to do today. What you think Del Roy?

 

DEL ROY: Don’t know but I’m a mess of hungry.

J.T.: Me too. What do you say we get out of here. I bet momma’s cooking up a batch of hamburger helper.

DEL ROY: With the meat and all?

J.T. Nods “yes” and Del Roy is gone in a split.

J.T.(talking to us): So next time you hear them talking bad about “W” on the t.v., don’t believe it for a minute but it’s like old “W” says you may like some of the people some of the time and all of the people all of the time but you just can’t trust those damn A-rabs.

He salutes the camera.

FADE TO:

THE MOST INDELIBLE, GOOFY CLOSE UP OF GEORGE “W”.

CREDITS ROLL.

BUSH’S MOST RIDDICULOUS SOUND BITES PLAY IN THE BACKROUND.