SS: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Lonely Dungarees. Because the only jeans you can count on are your own. And now, the Lives of the Cowboys.
TR: I thought Texas was supposed to be warmer than this. Come down here to warm up and we're freezing our butts out here on the windswept godforsaken plains -- What you sitting there so quiet about? Say something.
GK: I'm meditating, Dusty.
TR: Come on. The wind is blowing at us and the coffee tastes like paint thinner and the beef jerky is stale and last night I slept on a rock and now my back is killing me. Now you.
GK: Dusty, I've transcended those things.
TR: How'd you do that?
GK: It's called Conestoga Yoga. Read about it in a magazine.
TR: And what's the point of that?
GK: To achieve a sense of peace.
TR: You start to feel peaceful and that's when the snake comes up behind you and bites your butt.
GK: You sit still and you breathe deeply and pretty soon you start to see a bright light at the center of your consciousness. (A BEAT, HELICOPTER, DISTANT)
TR: I see a bright light right now. It's coming right for us. Do you see that?
GK: I do.
TR: Looks like a big bright star or something. And it's moving this way. (A BEAT, A LOW HUM STARTS TO BUILD)
GK: It's not Christmas Eve yet, is it?
TR: Nope. Why?
GK: Never mind. Just asking.
TR: This is how people get abducted by aliens.
GK: Is that so?
TR: Yup. They're always out in the desert alone and this thing comes by and wham they're gone.
GK: That's no UFO--
TR: Who's in that thing--
GK: Look, someone's coming out-it's a woman.
(DISMOUNT, FOOSTEPS APPROACH)
TR: Are you sure? Look at the pantsuit-
GK: Hold on now-that isn't--
SS (HILLARY): Hello boys. How's everybody doing out here?
GK: Senator Clinton?
SS (HILLARY): That's right. It's me, I am back.
GK: What brings you all the way out to the dusty godforsaken prairie, Senator Clinton?
SS (HILLARY): I'm practicing for when I must visit Kurdistan or Uzhbekistan when I am Secretary of State and I must try to be friendly to very strange people. Here. I've brought you an American fruitcake as a gesture of goodwill.
TR (UNDER): Dang. I hate fruitcake.
GK: Welcome, Secretary Clinton- may I offer you some rotgut whiskey and some beef jerky-
SS (HILLARY): I would love some, thank you very much. I want you two gentlemen to speak freely with me. Tell me the things that are bothering you. And I will listen with interest and nod my head.
TR: It's cold and windy and dusty and my back hurts and beef sales are down and we're too old to be riding the trail and yet we lack the skills to do anything else.
SS (HILLARY): Yes. Okay. I hear your voice, and I am responding with my voice to say thank you for your voice.
TR: Uh oh. Looks like another one coming. Hide the beef jerky.
SS (CLINTON): Now I wonder who that could be?
(HELICOPTER LANDS, FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
TR (BUSH): Hi there. Anybody waiting for me? If you weren't, that's okay, and if you are, then here I am. Can't stick around for long. But if you want me to, maybe I could.
SS (HILLARY): Welcome to our circle of diplomacy. I am here to listen. What's past is gone and now we must move ahead together into the future.
TR (BUSH): Yeah? Well, my future is right here in Texas and I am going to hunker down with my guitar and compose some little ditties.
SS (HILLARY): I respect that and I honor your choice. .
TR (BUSH): Mind if I borrow your guitar there?
GK: Be my guest.
(GUITAR TUNES, STRUMS)
TR (BUSH, SINGS, TO STREETS OF LAREDO):
I'm just a lame duck and my time it is ending
I've got one more month and nothing to do
So I went to Iraq to say Mission Accomplished
And somebody tried to hit me with a shoe.
I'm sure that history will judge me successful
Though it may take centuries to arrive at the truth
And meanwhile my approval ratings
Are somewhat lower than John Wilkes Booth.
So beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
On January 20 as I leave D.C.
And go back to Texas and take off this blue suit
And put on some jeans, O how happy I'll be.
GK: You speak for all of us, Mr. President.
SS (HILLARY): You have done the best you could, Mr. Bush, and that is all a person can do. We release you.
TR (BUSH): Thank you. I shall be released.
TR (BUSH (SINGS):
Eight years I drove the bus
I was the chief and the decider
And now I lose the keys
And sit in back, just one more rider.
I never stopped to ask directions
I did a heckuva job and took them my way
And now -- I'm standing here
Out on the highway.
GK: Well, good luck, Mr. President.
TR (BUSH): (SINGS)
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I said things that were not true
About the war -- what it's about--
Nobody dared to throw me out
I wasn't swift nor was I brainy, but I stuck with Cheney.
I've slept, I took my naps
I exercised on my Stairmaster
And now, hands in my lap, I'm heading out to pasture
For what is a man, what has he got
If he's surrounded and he is caught
But I was the boss, I took the wheel, and now I'm leaving and I feel
The record shows I thumbed my nose and did it my way!
TR (BUSH): I'm outta here --
GK: So long, sir. Good luck to you sir.
SS: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Lonely Dungarees.