The Maltese Birth Certificate

Also starring Sarah Palin, Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich, and introducing Donald Trump as the Rug Man!



Characters

Sam Spade --- Humphrey Bogart. What can I say? When Humphrey Bogart was my age, he was already dead. Look at what he achieved! Me? I can’t even open a jar of midget gherkins.

Spade's Voiceover --- Yes, you’re going to get to hear the innermost thoughts and comments of Sam Spade himself. What? No voiceover in the original Maltese Falcon? Well, I’m not exactly John Huston either!

Governor Sarah Palin --- Sarah Palin. Say what you will; she’s a hell of a lot better looking than Mary Astor from the original film. How was it that Astor was considered hot, even back in the day?

Kasper Trumpman, a/k/a The Rug Man --- Donald Trump. As with Sydney Greenstreet, Donald Trump makes his film debut here at over the age of 60. In Trump’s case, it could have waited way longer!

Mitt Cairo --- Mitt Romney. Smooth, slick, and somewhat dandified. Except when you're talking about Peter Lorre, who played the role in the original film, also add in “interesting, original, and talented.”

The Gunsel --- Newt Gingrich. Lizard-like, low-rent, and as we members of the Tribe would say, “tuchas-faced.” Elisha Cook Jr. would be proud!

Plus Ward Bond, Barton MacLane and all your other favorite forties actors that nobody except older Boomers like me remember.

SCENE ONE --- Then She Walked In

Spade's Voiceover: San Francisco is a city of some half million people. That's a lot of folks with a lot of different hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

Me, I'm just another one of the half million. But my line of work is a bit different from most of the other suckers.

I'm Sam Spade, Birth Certificate Private Eye!

My job is to track down and locate missing, stolen, and/or filed in the wrong manila folder Certificates of Birth. How did I get into this racket? It’s a slimy disgusting business, filled with depraved, revolting, amoral sleazebags ---- even the ones who aren’t lawyers. But for me, it’s home!

Well, it was another late Thursday afternoon in August, and I was sitting at my desk doing the things any Birth Certificate private dick does on his down time. Flipping through the mail, eyeballing the Daily Racing Form, and boning up on the multi-faceted legal distinctions between the Long and Short Form Birth Certificate in the State of Hawaii when ……

She walked in! The “attractive woman entering scene” saxophone music you always hear in movies from the 40’s played briefly. (BTW, I'm still tryin' to find it for you on You-Tube, folks.)

She was one tasty brunette, with a kind of firm but feminine jaw line and lips that said “if you wanna kiss me, you better be willing to gut Medicare first.” Dressed from head to toe in red, she reminded me of an explosion at the Crayola Factory!

Palin: Are you Sam Spade, Birth Certificate Private Eye? Mr. Spade, I need your assistance!

Spade: Now just hold on, sister! I don't function too well until I've been properly introduced.

Palin: Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Spade. My name’s Palin … Sarah Palin. Former Governor of the State of Alaska Sarah Palin.

Spade: That's much better. Yes, Governor Palin, I believe I recognize you from the dartboard down at Keith Olbermann’s joint on 32nd street. Now what can I do for you?

Palin: It’s my sister Michelle, Mr. Spade! She’s taken up with a shady individual named Thursby. I have reason to believe he’s trafficking in an original Joan Rivers birth certificate!

Spade: An original Joan Rivers! That’s written in Middle English, no less! This guy must play for keeps!

Palin: Mr. Spade, I want Michelle away from this horrible man! Get him drunk, lure him off with promises of racy photos of Mary Landrieu or Mrs. Clinton or Ruth Bader Ginsberg, whatever you have to do!

Spade: OK, Precious, I get the picture. You want me to get Michelle to repudiate Thursby.

Palin: Exactly, Mr. Spade, how did you know?

Spade: It seems to be written in black ink on your left hand. By the way, “repudiate” is spelled with a “p,” not an “f.”

Palin: I can see you’re packing heat, Mr. Spade; that’s good! Ohhhh, that Second Amendment! Sometimes it just makes me lose all control!!

Spade: Well, then, remind me to read it to you some evening over a bottle of bourbon. Leaving out the “militia part” of course.

Palin: You are quite the rogue, Mr. Spade, and I think I’m going for you! (Why…. I might be coining a term here!) Will you handle the case yourself for me?

Spade: Unfortunately, Governor, I’m occupied. I’ve been hired by a woman named Huffington to locate her birth certificate. Even she can’t figure out where her accent’s from! My none-too-bright partner Miles Frisby will track Thursby for you this evening. After tonight, I’m all yours …

Palin: Wonderful, Mr. Spade. Oh, and …. Sam…. if you need something - anything - all you have to do is whistle. You know how to whistle don’t you? You just put your lips together and….

Spade’s Voiceover: (cutting her off) We’re going to give that line a quick two dollar haircut! Plays a lot rougher by year 2011 standards than it ever did in 1941!

SCENE TWO --- The Bodies Mount

Spade’s Voiceover: I wrapped up the case with Huffington that night a lot earlier than I’d thought. Turned out her birth certificate was from a place called New Jersey. Couldn’t wait to collect the big fee I was sure I'd get from her! I went home, had a couple slugs of bourbon, and hit the sack, enjoying a Freudian dream about hunting elk in my birthday suit with the intriguing Governor Palin ….

Then there came a banging on the door like the Ringo Starr drum solo at the end of Abbey Road only more inventive. It was 2:30 A.M. I put on my robe and opened the door to my old pal, down-to-earth regular guy Police Sergeant Tom Polhaus and his boss, tough no-nonsense bordering-on-sadistic Lieutenant Joe Dundy. Yep, Central Casting, you’re on the ball!

Polhaus: I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news, Sam…

Spade: Oh, no! There isn’t going to be another season of Curb Your Enthusiasm!?

Polehaus: No, Sam. It’s Miles. He’s dead. Shot through the heart.

Spade: His second favorite organ! You guys want coffee?

Dundy: And there’s more news, Spade. The man he was tailing -- Thursby. He’s dead too!

Spade: Really? You take cream with that?

Polehaus: Sam, it seems that Frisby was following Thursby late Thursday night when he was shot full of lead. Several hours later, Thursby was shot full of lead. We’re running out of lead and we’re not even halfway through the picture!

Dundy: You see, Spade, Frisby was shot on Thursday and Thursby was shot on Friday.

Spade: Try saying that fast five times!

Dundy: You’re not taking this seriously, Spade! I think you killed Frisby, if not Thursby too; you had a motive.

Spade: What was that, Dundy?

Dundy: You were shtupping Frisby’s wife!

Polehaus: Oh now, Joe! Sam’s a good egg. At least as far as totally amoral sleaze-bag wife-shtuppers go!

Spades's Voiceover: Dundy and Polehaus departed after briefly complimenting me on the tasteful renovations underway at my apartment since I’d has hired Nate Berkus as my interior decorator. Yeah, that Oprah sure knows how to pick ‘em!

But something was bothering me. I knew then that Precious Palin hadn’t been playing square with me. Not only that, she hadn’t been playing triangle either, which is really my favorite instrument!

I called her at her hotel, informed her Thursby and Frisby were dead, and told she had to come right over. I was expecting histrionics --- not that I thought she knew what the word meant --- and I wasn’t disappointed.

SCENE THREE --- The Lady Lies

Palin: (entering Sam’s apartment) Histrionics, Sam? What does that mean?

Spade’s Voiceover: As I said, I wasn’t disappointed.

Spade: It means this: that story you told me yesterday was just a story. There is no sister! There is no Michelle!

Palin: You’re right, Sam, there is no sister. There is a Michelle, but the less said about her the better! What can I do to get you to trust me?

Spade: Not having all your lines of dialogue written on your left hand would help!

Palin: You've got to believe me, Sam. Yes, Thursby was my partner but I’d no idea anyone would be killed. Oh, you must help me, Sam. You're brave. You're strong. You lift things up and put them down!

Spade: You’re good, you’re very good! So good you almost make me want to sign up for a death panel!

Palin: Yes, I deserve that, Sam. I can only tell you that Thursby and I were searching for…. the world’s most valuable birth certificate!

Spade: My God! A Larry King! If it weren’t for the Rosetta Stone, we’d never be able to read one of those!

Palin: No, Sam. More valuable even than that …

Spade’s Voiceover: Just then, there was another banging at the door. That Ringo Starr must’ve been the luckiest guy in show business … after Tracy Morgan, that is! I opened the door….

Cairo: Hello, Mr. Spade. My name is Mitt Cairo.

Spade: Oh. Look what the Presidential Exploratory Committee just dragged in!

Cairo (entering): Mr. Spade, I seek your assistance in locating an important object that has been unfortunately lost or stolen. Or maybe it’s just in the wrong manila folder. (Seeing Palin.) Oh, hello, Governor. I'm delighted to see you again.

Palin: Hello, Mitt. How’s that Massachusetts Mandatory Health Care Plan workin’ out for you?

Spade’s Voiceover: In a rage, Cairo pulled a gun on both of us! That’s not something I can abide, although I think I saw Palin give a look like she wanted to slip the gun her phone number. I tackled Cairo, disarmed him, and slapped him down.

Cairo: You slapped me! Who do I look like to you? Larry Fine?

Spade: When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it! Well, you don’t actually have to click “like” on my Facebook page, but I’d appreciate it!

Cairo: Mr. Spade, Ms. Palin and I seek the same thing ---- A birth certificate of immense importance. I will pay you a sum equal to the cost of hair gel I use in a day to help me locate it.

Spade: What is this crazy birth certificate? Why is it worth the life of two men?

Cairo: Two men are killed? I hope they weren’t voters!

Palin: (ominously) It was the Rug Man. He’s in San Francisco!

Cairo: (in fear) The Rug Man!

Spade: Who is the Rug Man? Why is he called that?

Palin: If you saw him, Sam, you’d know. If you called 800 - 588 - 2300 EMPIRE, you couldn’t get a worse job!

Spade’s Voiceover: Just then the phone rang. It was my loyal secretary, Effie. Funny how in the forties every other dame seemed to be named Effie. Guess that makes up for the fact that there probably won’t be another Effie until the century in which Star Trek takes place.

Spade: Yes, Effie. A mister Kaspar Trumpman a/k/a the Rug Man wants to see me, eh? About the birth certificate? He’s sending his weasily and tuchas-faced gunsel over to pick me up now? (Hangs up)

Spade: (to Palin) Precious, what does “gunsel” mean?

Spade’s Voiceover: Look who I was asking! Precious didn’t even know the meaning of regular words! There came another knock at the door.

Spade: (as the gunsel enters) Yuck! You’re even more weasily and tuchas-faced than I expected.

Gunsel Gingrich: Keep on ridin' me. They're gonna be pickin' iron out of your liver. Or… uh…pickin’ liver out of your iron if you happened to be eating liver while you’re ironing your underwear. Something like that …

Spade: (laughing) The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter! Your patter is so gaudy it reminds me of Celo Green at his son's bar mitzvah!

SCENE FOUR --- The Rug Man

Spade’s Voiceover: Gunsel Gingrich took all three of us over to Trumpman’s hotel room across town, where I was given a royal welcome!

Rug Man: Welcome, sir, welcome! Make yourself feel right at home. Just as if this were Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.

Spade: Well, if this is Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, I don’t think I care to sit on the sofa.

Rug Man: Ha! Ha! By gad, I like a man who won’t sit on the sofa in Pee Wee’s Playhouse!

Spade: I see why you’re called the Rug Man. I didn’t realize you were also so bloated and fat!

Palin: (contemptuously) Yeah! He’s a stuffed pig!

Cairo: (making conversation) Do you like suckling pig, Mr. Spade?

Spade: No, as a rule, I never like anything that’s looking at me while I’m eating it. Fortunately that doesn’t come up very often.

Rug Man: Ha! Ha! By gad, I like a man who doesn’t like anything that’s looking at him while he’s eating it.

Spade: Well, the way it’s going, I hope you at least check “like” on my Facebook page!

Rug Man: Ha! Ha! By gad, I like a man who hopes I at least.... oh, the hell with it! Let’s get down to business.

Spade: Yes, let’s. Let's talk about the Certificate of Birth in question.

Rug Man: Mr. Spade, it is nothing less than the fabulous but monumentally elusive Maltese Birth Certificate!

Spade’s Voiceover: The only Maltese I knew anything about was a little dog my ex-wife used to own. In those days, my leg got humped a lot more often than I ever did!

Spade: I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Trumpman.

Rug Man: It is the actual birth certificate of the audacious man posing right now as president of this very country, the birth certificate that proves that one Barak Obama was born not in the United States of America, but on the Isle of Malta!

Spade: That’s quite a claim. How did The Maltese Birth Certificate come to be?

Rug Man: In 1961, Mr. Obama’s socialist, communist, Burl Ives–listening parents stopped off on the Isle of Malta on their way to Moscow for the annual Joseph Stalin Mustache Look-Alike Contest. There they had a child, Barack Hussein Obama, whom they hoped could develop a substantial enough milk mustache to win the contest.

Spade: I see. So whichever one of you can best rob and cheat and steal your way to possession of The Maltese Birth Certificate will become the Republican front runner for President ….

Rug Man: By gad, you are a flatterer, sir!

Palin: But, Sam, regardless of which one of us finds The Maltese Birth Certificate, all of us will benefit!

Rug Man: It’ll be no billionaire left behind!

Palin: An assault rifle in every pot! After first using it to blast to smithereens the chicken in every pot!

Cairo: An environment as polluted and degraded as each one of us!

Rug Man: Mr. Spade, we last learned that The Maltese Birth Certificate was in the hands of another one of Governor Palin’s so-to-speak confederates, a Captain Jacoby. Gunsel Gingrich paid a visit on him but shall-we-say failed to convince him to work with us.

Spade’s Voiceover: Just then the phone shall-we-ring rang. Effie had tracked me down at Trumpman’s with quite a story. Seems Jacoby had staggered into my office inconveniently bleeding to death, and handed her The Maltese Birth Certificate for safe keeping!

Think that’s contrived? Better never see the original picture then!

I told Effie to clean up all the blood, do a little light dusting, and deliver The Maltese Birth Certificate to us at Trumpman’s hotel room for all five of us to finally gaze upon!

SCENE FIVE --- You’re Taking the Fall

Sam’s Voiceover: Within minutes, Effie delivered The Maltese Birth Certificate and it was placed on a table in front of the co-conspirators.

Rug Man: At last ... after all these days, months, years, afternoons, fiscal quarters, Tuesdays with Morrie...

Spade's Voiceover: The Rug Man began to inspect The Maltese Birth Certificate from every angle, caressing it with an almost lascivious lust while the others salivated copiously from a distance. You’d think it was a Happy Meal which included the best toy ever for kids under three! The Rug Man took out a knife and repeatedly scraped it across the paper upon which the certificate was printed, apparently to re-assure himself that it wasn't a …..

Rug Man: (furious) Fake! No, no, no! It's a phony! It's as fake as Heidi Montag’s breasts!

Cairo: (panicked) How can you tell?

Rug Man: Look very carefully. No, at The Maltese Birth Certificate, not at Heidi Montag’s breasts! When I scrape it with my knife, the paper shreds on a left to right axis with minimum bonding and modest warp modularity. Also, you moron, it says right here on the back “Made in China!”

Spade: A swell lot of thieves! And I just now heard on NPR that the President has released his long form birth certificate from Hawaii!

Spade’s Voiceover: For a moment the Rug Man seemed so thoroughly distraught, so emotionally devastated, so completely destroyed by the utter failure of his multiple year quest that he almost changed his expression.

Rug Man: (recovering quickly) Oh, well. Come, Gunsel Gingrich! Mitt, Mr. Spade …. Care to join us on a quest for our second most desired holy grail: a lock of Joe Biden’s scant hair, the DNA of which proves conclusively he is a Martian seeking to secure a steady Republican food supply for his dying planet?

Spade’s Voiceover: No,thanks. Think I’ll sick around here and help the Governor plan the next 15 years to life of her political career.

Rug Man: By gad, I'd like to have you along, sir. You're a man of nice judgment and many resources, and as a non-Tea Bagger, someone with an IQ in double figures!

Spade’s Voiceover: The Rug Man, Cairo, and Gunsel Gingrich departed, but I knew they wouldn’t get far before being picked up by Polhaus for Jacoby’s murder. That left me with one final loose end --- the deceitful, ruthless, yet beguiling Governor Palin.

Oh yeah, I left out “kinda stupid.”

Spade: Now, Precious, give me all of it fast! When you first came to my office, why did you want Frisby to follow Thursby?

Palin: Oh, Sam, I just wanted to scare him so he'd stop asking me for a cushy do-nothing federal job if I become President. Sort of like head of the EPA.

Spade: That's a lie! You hoped Frisby would shoot Thursby, but when Frisby didn’t shoot Thursby, you shot Frisby hoping Thursby be blamed for shooting Frisby. When Thursby wasn’t blamed for Frisby, you shot Thursby, having already shot Frisby.

Palin: Yes, Sam, I did do all that stuff, that's true. But I still can't diagram that sentence!

Spade: Okay, let’s try this: You killed Frisby on Thursday! Then you killed Thursby on Friday! Good thing for me there isn’t any Spadesday!

Palin: (sobbing) Okay, yes, yes, that’s right. But Sam, from the first moment I saw you…..

Spade: Don't try it, Precious! You're taking the fall. And I don’t mean the election in the fall!

Palin: Stop it! You know down deep in your heart and in spite of anything I've done I love you.

Spade: I don't care who loves who! Hey: “Who Loves Who?” Sounds like a good name for a musical comedy!

Palin: Sam, don’t say things like that even in fun. Oh, I was frightened for a minute. I really thought...You do such wild and unpredictable things.

Spade: I won't play the sap for you! I never learned how to play the sap anyway --- or the square or the triangle for that matter. I’m just not that musical!

Palin: Oh, Sam, you’ve been toying with me. You don't love me!

Spade: I won't walk in Thursby's --- and I don't know how many others --- footsteps, especially if I’m walking in Central Park on 59th Street where all the horse and buggies are! You killed Frisby and Thursby and you're going over for it.

Palin: Going over what for it?

Spade: Over easy for it? Over Niagara Falls in a Barrel for it? Who the hell knows?! I can’t keep up with all this smartass Dashiell Hammett patter forever!

Palin: You know whether you love me or not.

Spade: Maybe I do. Well, I'll have some rotten nights after I've sent you over, but that will pass. I’ll take an Ambien. I’ll watch a Farrelly Brothers movie.

The chances are you'll get off with life, which means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. Then again, maybe not; you’re not that great looking! You’re only halfway decent compared with someone like Mary Astor!

Spade’s Voiceover: Polehaus and Dundy arrived, and I handed over Precious Palin to them. She walked off … a bit defiantly perhaps, perhaps not. I was going to make sure she got some newspapers and magazines to read in the big house, but I know she loves to read “all of them,” and I just can’t afford all that many!

I was looking down at The Maltese Birth Certificate --- the cause of all this needless strife and stupidity --- when Tom came up behind me.

Polhaus. What is that, Sam?

Spade: The stuff that Tea Party dreams are made of.

Polhaus: (confused) Huh??

Spade: In a couple days, all of us would probably be saying the same.


The End

Return to Casablanca --- But Not for the Waters

"Yes, Ilsa, we'll always have Paris. And there'll be rude waiters for us wherever we go."


Directed by Perry Block 

                       

This highly “watered-down” version of Casablanca was taken from the original tweeted version of Casablanca I experimented with several months ago on my Twitter site. Y’know, the experiment which has since been come to be known as my own personal Gigli.

Here I have “de-tweeted” the tweets and turned Return to Casablanca --- But Not for the Waters into cinematic form. I’ve also added some extra dialogue and stage directions here and there, ostensibly to bridge originally disjointed tweets. So if you see some phrases or brief sequences clearly not from the actual movie or a bit out of order, please don’t get all hot and bothered that I’m not a Casablanca “purist!”

Hey, I live vicariously through this movie; you have a real life! So who’s the bigger Casablanca fan?! Huh?! Huh?!

Please be advised that this post is pretty long. You may want to bring your lunch and/or be prepared for a rest stop somewhere between Scene VI and Scene VIII.

So now, settle back, forget about all the constructive things you should be doing, and Return to Casablanca --- But Not for the Waters!

Cast of Characters:

Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) --- What can I say? Every guy on the planet wants to be either Bogey, Superman, or Bugs Bunny. In my case, all three!

Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) --- What can I say? I’ve seen the lady.

Inspector Louis Renault (Claude Rains) --- The quintessential oily opportunist who becomes a hero, as portrayed by one of the greatest character actors of all time!

Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) --- No, not Hans Conreid, Boomers. Paul Henreid!

Ugarte (Peter Lorre) --- Always so cool, off-beat, and one-of-a-kind. Here in his young, thin, and out of the picture too quickly days.

Ferrari (Sydney Greenstreet) --- Corpulent, inscrutable, and also out of the picture too quickly. Want to have fun? Catch him in Three Strangers, also with Peter Lorre.

Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt) --- Further proof that aging sucks. Twenty -three years earlier he’s the young sleepwalking murderer in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Here he’s already Nouveau Old!

Sam (Dooley Wilson): Probably the only sensible one in the bunch!
___________________________________________________

 Casablanca! 

Land of mystery .... intrigue .... romance.   I never been there, have you?

Scene I

Upstairs at Rick’s Café Américain. Richard Blaine, owner of Rick’s and American ex-patriot, and Inspector Louis Renault, corrupt but cute as all get out, are conversing.  

Louie: Rick, I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator’s wife? I like to think you killed a man, it’s the romantic in me.

Rick: Actually, Louie, it had more to do with ripping a label off the bottom of a mattress!

Louie: Why did you come to Casablanca?

Rick:  I came to Casablanca for the waters.

Louie: What waters, we’re in the desert?

Rick: I was misinformed. That and I heard there was a great sale on Deer Park!

Louie: Last night, two German couriers were killed. They were carrying two Letters of Transit that were stolen. I tell you this because you should know that Victor Lazlo is in Casablanca.

Rick: Victor Lazlo?!

Louie: Rick, you seem impressed!

Rick: Victor Lazlo’s succeeded in impressing half of the world. Too bad it’s the same half that thinks Bob Saget is funny. But why would you think I would help Lazlo?

Louie: Because, Ricky, I suspect at heart you’re a rank sentimentalist! I’m familiar with your record. In 1935, you ran guns to Ethiopia. In 1936, you fought in Spain, on the Loyalist side.

Rick: I got well paid for it on both occasions.

Louie: The winning side would have paid you much better.

Rick: Now you tell me!

Louie: Rick, there are many exit visas sold in Rick’s Café Américain, but we know that you've never sold one. That is the reason we permit you to remain open.

Rick: Oh? I thought it was because I let you win at roulette.

Louie: You let me win? Uh-oh! I just mortgaged my house to get in on Ferrari’s Wide World of Roulette Sweepstakes!

Rick: So what are your political sentiments, Louie?

Louie: I have no convictions.  I  blow with the wind, and the prevailing wind happens to be from Vichy.  Should the wind shift and start coming from Philadelphia, I’ll root for the Phillies. After all, they have Ryan Howard!

Rick: I see. So you think I might sell a Letter of Transit to Lazlo?

Louie: He’ll need two exit visas. He is traveling with a lady. 

Rick: He'll take one.

Louie: I think not. I have seen the lady. Actually he’ll need …. three! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Rick: Louie, your sense of humor …. Well, you’re no Claude Rains!


Scene II

Rick’s Café Américain later that evening. Stench of smoke and bourbon in the air, intrigue 'round every corner. (Actually I’m feeling kind of nauseous myself.) Rick is talking to Ugarte, who - like Inspector Renault - is kind of adorable in a sleazy, oily, disgusting way.

Ugarte: You despise me, don’t you, Rick? 

Rick: If I paid you any mind, I probably would.  Know what?  I actually  manage to despise you even without paying you any mind!

Ugarte: Rick, I hope you're more impressed with me now! 

Rick: You're right, Ugarte. I am more impressed now that I know you played Center for Duke on the 2001 NCAA winning team!

Ugarte: No, no, Rick! I’m talking about the dead German couriers, these two Letters of Transit.

Rick: Yeah, well, it’s Casablanca, life’s cheap. Tell me, what’s Mike Krzyzewski really like?

Ugarte: I know many people in Casablanca, but somehow because you despise me, you are the only one I trust!  Here, please hold these two Letters of Transit for me.

Rick: Yeah, swell, wonderful. Hey, ever meet Alan Iverson???

Police enter, looking for Ugarte.

Ugarte: Hide me, Rick, hide me!

Rick: Don’t be a fool, Ugarte! It’s my turn to hide and your turn to seek!

Ugarte is taken away and we hear a shot.

Concerned By-Stander: I hope when they come for me, Rick, you’ll be of more help!

Rick: I stick my neck out for nobody. Except Oprah!


Scene III

Rick's, even later that same evening.  Stench of smoke and bourbon still fill the air, intrigue still 'round every corner.  (And I'm still feeling nauseous ... as if you even care!) Inspector Renault is introducing Rick to Major Strasser of the Third Reich.

Major Strasser: Ah, Mr. Richard Blaine. Cannot return to his home country.

Rick: Yes, Major Strasser,  I have one lousy sense of direction.  I'm so bad, I make MapQuest look reliable!

Major Strasser: Are you one of those people who cannot imagine the Germans in their beloved Paris?

Rick:  It's not particularly my beloved Paris.  I 'belove' Vegas, baby!  What happens there stays there!

Major Strasser:  Can you imagine us in New York?

Rick:  Well, there are certain sections of New York I wouldn't advise you to try to  invade.  Those Yankees fans will eat you alive!

Rick leaves (a wee-wee?) and Victor Lazlo and Ilsa Lund enter.

Louie: (greeting them) Welcome to Casablanca, Mr. Lazlo! By the way, do you find Bob Saget funny?

Victor:  That is a nice welcome, thank you, Inspector Renault!  I have not seen this Bob Saget, but I have it on good authority from my friends in the Underground that he sucks.

Louie:  And you, Miss Lund, I was informed that you were the most beautiful woman ever to visit Casablanca.  That was a gross understatement!  As opposed to my girlfriend, who's more of a gross statement!

Ilsa:  You're very kind, Inspector Renault. Although the second part of your statement was very unkind.  However, if that's your girlfriend at your table, it was also very accurate!

Ilsa spots Sam and approaches him. 

Ilsa:  Hello, Sam.  It's been a long time.

Sam:   Hello, Miss Ilsa.  (to himself) Oh, crap!   Not only is the Boss about to go psycho on us,  it's gonna be that damn song again!

Ilsa:  Play it, Sam.  For old time's sake.

Sam:  I can't remember it, Miss Ilsa.  Yes, that's it.  I can't remember it. 

Ilsa:  Play 'As Time Goes By.'  I'll hum it for you.

Sam:  No, No!  I mean, no, Miss Ilsa, that's okay.

Ilsa:  Da-dy-da-dy-da-dum, da-dy-da-doo-da-dum .... diggle-dai-del-deedle-daidel-dumm!

Sam: Oh my God!   Stop it, Miss Ilsa, your singing is bad enough, now you’re mixing in 'If I were a Rich Man!'  Okay, I'll play it, I'LL PLAY IT!

Sam begins tentatively playing and singing  'As Time Goes By.'

Sam: "You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is still a sigh ...."    Oh, Miss Ilsa, please!  Compared to this, ABBA  is like the Beatles!

Rick enters,  incensed.

Rick:   I thought I told you never to play it again, Sam!   That putt is a gimmee.  Pick it up Sam.  You don't need to play it again! 

Rick spots Ilsa and does a double-take.  Actually it's more of a triple-take. Even if there isn't such a thing, if anybody could do it, it'd be Bogart!

Ilsa: Rick, I wasn't sure you were the same.  Let's see, the last time we met ....

Rick:  .... was La Belle Aurore!  Sort of a cross between Olive Garden and Applebee's , only without the great food!

Ilsa:  How nice, you remembered!  But of course, that was the day the Germans marched into Paris. 

Rick:  I remember that day in every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.  I wore a little pink thing with ribbons --- I was very uspet about the Germans!

Victor Lazlo enters and Ilsa introduces him to Rick.

Rick:  Mr. Lazlo, I congratulate you on your work.

Victor:  Thank you.  I try.

Rick:  All of us try, you succeed!  What is it --- the Cliff's Notes?

Victor:  Yes, Monsieur Blaine, I always use Cliff's Notes.

Shortly, Victor and Ilsa leave Rick's.

Victor: Ilsa, I think this time the Nazis really mean to stop me!

Ilsa: What did you think they were trying to do before, Victor? Give you a five minute time out?

Scene IV

Hours later in Rick's, now closed and darkened.  Only Rick and Sam remain. (Me, I'm still nauseous.  In fact, I think I'm gonna be sick ....)

Rick: You played it for her, you can play it for me!  Play it, Sam!

Sam:  Oh, no, not again!   Tell you what, Boss:  I'll pay you 'Feelings' as sung by Mr. Glenn Campbell.  "Feelings, nothing more than feelings ...."

Rick:  No, no, Sam!  Haven't I suffered enough?

Sam begins playing 'As Time Goes By' again.

Rick:  Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.  And she's a contractor too!  Sam, let's get a quote to paint the place! 

Sam has a long flashback about the happy days in which he fell in love with Ilsa in Paris.  You and I should only have such flashbacks  instead of the ones in which we're being yelled at by the ninth grade gym teacher for not being able to touch our toes!

Ilsa furtively enters Rick's. (Hope you know what furtive means.  I have no clue.)

Ilsa: Rick, I have to talk to you!

Rick:  Ilsa!  Well, Sam, you can go! 

Sam:  If Miss Ilsa's going to sing again, Boss, you better believe I'm going!

Rick: Why did you have to come to Casablanca?  There are other places.  Havertown PA, for example.  It has two --- count 'em --- two Wawa Convenience Stores!

Ilsa: Can I tell you a story, Rick?

Rick:  I know a story too, one with a wild finish.  A guy standing on a station platform in the rain whose insides had been kicked out!  Even worse, after my insides were kicked out, they went wide of the goal posts and we lost by two points.

Ilsa: I know.  I bet on your team too.  But Rick, please let me tell you this story!

Rick:  Okay. But first I want to jump in my jammies and grab Rupert Bear.  Can you get me a drink of water?  Deer Park?

Ilsa:  It's about a girl who at the house of some friends met a man about whom she’d heard her whole life. A very great and courageous man. He opened up for her a whole beautiful world full of knowledge and thoughts and ideals. Everything she knew or ever became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshiped him… with a feeling she supposed was love.

Rick: And then?

Ilsa: And then he got her drunk on Ripple, and the rest is history!

Rick: Tell me, who was it you left me for?  Was it Lazlo, or were there others in between?  Or aren't you the kind that tells?

Ilsa:  Oh, I'm the kind, Rick.  Others in between.  Ever hear of the Philadelphia Eagles?


Scene V

Rick's, the next evening.  Rick, sitting alone, is approached by an attractive young woman (Annina).  Rick is about to show his benevolent side.  Even if I had a benevolent side, I'm sure it would  photograph just as badly as all my other sides!

Annina:  Monsieur Rick, what kind of man is Inspector Renault?

Rick:  Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so.

Annina: More so?!!!  W-e-e-l-l-l, maybe this won't be so bad after all!

Rick:  I beg your pardon, young lady?

Annina:  Oh, no, no, no, I was ... um ... kidding!  What I meant to say is oh, Monsieur Rick, you are a man.  If someone loved you so much your happiness was everything to her, but she did a bad thing, could you forgive her?

Rick:  Nobody ever loved me that much! Well, there was that tattooed skank who's now boffing Jesse James.

Annina: My husband is trying to make money for our exit visas by playing Scissors, Paper, Stone.  Of course, he's losing.  He's got a mean Paper, but he has trouble moving effectively to his left with Scissors.

Rick:  You want my advice?

Annina:  Oh yes, please.

Rick: Go back to Bulgaria!

Annina:  We came from Detroit, Monsieur Rick.

Rick:  I know. Bulgaria's nicer!  Well, everybody in Casablanca has problems,  yours may work out.

Annina:  (a bit crestfallen)   Thank you, Monsieur Rick.

Rick gets up and walks over to the Scissors, Paper, Stone table to where  Annina's husband  is sitting.

Rick:  Buddy, have you tried Stone today?

Croupier:  And the House puts out Scissors, the Monsieur wins with Stone!

Rick: Now put it all on Paper.

Croupier:  And the House puts out Stone. The Monsieur wins again!

Rick:  Cash those winnings and don't come back!  On second thought, you can come back for our special 'Thursday All-You-Can-Eat Wings Night!"

Annina runs over to Rick.

Annina:  Oh, Monsieur Rick, I don't know how to thank ....

Rick:  Ahh, he's just a lucky guy!  But he's GOT to work on moving effectively to his left with Scissors!

Inspector Renault saunters over to Rick with a "naughty-naughty" look.

Louie:  Just as I thought!   A rank sentimentalist!    I'll forgive you this time but I'll be in tomorrow night with a breathtaking blonde, and it'll make me very happy if she loses!  So tomorrow night please:

 RICKY, DON’T LOSE ME THAT NUMBER!

Scene VI

Upstairs at Rick’s. Rick and Victor Lazlo are chewing the fat about, oh, any old thing.

Rick:  Do you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this?  I mean what you're fighting for.

Victor: Know how you sound, Monsieur Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.

Rick: Well, if not in my heart -- which is my second favorite organ -- my first favorite organ believes it!

Victor: You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die.

Rick: Well, sounds like I’ll soon be sitting shiva with the world’s mishpocha then! Got the address?  Should I pick up some cold cuts from Murray's for everyone?

Germanic music begins playing from the café, and Victor storms downstairs and addresses the band.

Victor: Play the 'La Marseilleise!'  Play it!!! Oh, you don’t know it!  Okay, 'Frere Jacques' will do! 
  

Rick nods the OK and the band begins to play. Following the song, the entire café erupts in patriotic fervor! Ilsa looks fondly at Victor,  just as you are probably looking not so fondly at me  wondering when this damn parody will end!

Major Strasser: You see, Inspector Renault? If Lazlo’s presence here can cause such a disruption, can you imagine the damage from ‘Victor Lazlo, the Home Game?’ I order you to close Rick’s!

Louie: But I have no excuse to close it. My mommy forgot to write me one  before I came to school.

Major Strasser:  Find one!

Louie:  (announcing to all) This restaurant is now closed!  Thank you very much and don't forget to tip your bartenders and servers!

Rick: How can you close me up, Louie? On what grounds?

Louie: I'm shocked .... shocked to find that gambling is going on in here! Although not as shocked as I was to find gambling going on in a place like Chester PA, but still pretty shocked!

Croupier: Your winnings, sir.

Louie: Oh, thank you very much!

Nobody can ever improve on that classic exchange. I won’t even try!

Scene VII

Later that night at Rick’s apartment.  As Rick enters the apartment, he finds Ilsa also there.  She has previously entered  furtively. (What! You haven’t looked up “furtive” yet?)

Rick: Your unexpected visit isn't connected by any chance with the Letters of Transit.   It seems as long as I have those letters, I'll never be lonely.

Ilsa: No, I'm here for Phillies tickets.  Of course, it's the Letters of Transit!

 Rick: Sorry, Ilsa, it's no deal!  Or is it "Deal or No Deal?" Say, Howie Mandel might be perfect for a show with a name something like that!

Ilsa: I know how you feel about me, but I'm asking you to put your feelings aide for a cause far more important. It was once your cause too.

Rick: I'm the only Cause I'm interested in!  By the way, care to make a donation to my Cause? Or co-host my telethon?  Y'know, I just fired Jerry Lewis.

At the end of her rope, Ilsa pulls a gun on Rick.

Ilsa: All right, I tried to reason with you. I tried everything. Now I want those letters!

Rick:  Go ahead and shoot.  You'll be doing me a favor!

Ilsa:  Really?  Well, if you put it that way ....

Rick: Wait! Wait!  Can't you take a little joke, Ilsa?

Ilsa drops the gun.

Ilsa: Rick, I can't fight it anymore!  I tried to stay away.  You see,  Rick, Victor is my husband and was even when you knew me in Paris!

Ilsa throws herself passionately into Rick's arms.
  

Rick:  Well, okay.   If you put in that way....

Ilsa: I ran away from you once.  I can't do it again.  Oh, I don't know what's right any longer! You have to think for the four of us! I mean the three of us, counting Victor.  Or is it the two of us? Yes, in addition to not knowing what's right any longer, I have no math skills either!

Rick: All right, I will.

Rick:  (turning to audience) You see, folks, it’s 1942, and it’s SOP to have women in the movies - even Ingrid Bergman - act like they’re dependent morons. The only flaw in this otherwise great movie!

Rick tenderly kisses Ilsa, and then ....
Thank God Casablanca wasn’t made in 2010, because as much as I love Bogart, we'd have seen a lot more of him next than even I ever wanted to!  Ingrid Bergman --- well, that would have been an offsetting factor. But I will follow the discretionary tastes of the 40's and show you nada!

Rick: Here’s lookin’ at you, kid! Yes, you’re right, Ilsa: I am one of the men who stare at goats!  

Scene VIII

At the Blue Parrot, another Casablanca nightclub, Rick and Senor Ferrari, the proprietor, are having a pow-wow. How’s that for a totally inappropriate expression under the circumstances?

Ferrari: As leader of all illegal activities in Casablanca, I am an influential and respected man.  Just think, if I were 375 pounds lighter, watch out, Brad Pitt!

Rick:  Well, 'Brad,' let's conclude our business then.  I wouldn't want you to keep 'Angelina' waiting!

Ferrari:  I assume a handshake is satisfactory for our deal on Rick's?

Rick:  It certainly is not!   But given the time we've got,  let's just make it a pinkie shake! 

Ferrari: Oh, yes, I like a good pinkie shake!

Rick:   Now,  Sam, Sasha, and Karl stay with the place or I don't sell!

Ferrari:  Of course they do, it wouldn't be Rick's without them.  What do you think, I'm buying your dump for the veal cordon bleu?

Rick:  And Sam gets  25% of the profits.

Ferrari:  I happen to know he gets 10%, but he's worth 25%.  And for the iconic star of a classic movie, Rick, you are one hell of a cheapskate!


Scene IX

Having discussed with Inspector Renault his supposed plan to entrap Victor into arrest for attempting to purchase the Letters of Transit and take off with Ilsa for America, Rick and Inspector Renault lay in wait for Victor and Ilsa in the closed, darkened Rick's.

Louie: Still not sure why you’re doing this, Ricky. Miss Lund is very beautiful, but you were never interested in any woman.

Rick: You’re forgetting that tattooed skank who’s boffing Jesse James.

Louie: Ricky, I'm going to miss you. Apparently you're the only one in Casablanca with less scruples than I.

Rick: Yes, Louie, but today they had a deal on scruples at Staples. I’ve stocked up! Hmm, "stocked up on Scruples at Staples!" Say that fast five times!

As Victor and Ilsa enter and receive the Letters of Transit from Rick, Inspector Renault attempts to arrest Victor, but Rick pulls a gun on him instead.

Boy is this getting good!

Louie: Rick, have you lost your mind? 

Rick: I have.  Sit down.

Louie:  Put that gun down!

Rick: I wouldn't like to shoot you, Louie, but I will if you take one more step! And certainly if you take several steps and do the hokey-pokey and turn yourself around!
Louie:  Under the circumstances, I will sit down.  And I'm  sure as hell not going to do the hokey-pokey, even if it's ladies choice!

Rick: Louie, remember this gun is pointed right at your heart.

Louie: That is my least vulnerable spot.

Rick: Well, then I’ll just re-direct it due south!

Off to the Airport for the denouement (finally!)  At the airport, Rick tells Inspector Renault to put Victor and Ilsa’s names on the Letters of Transit, ensuring their safe departure.

Ilsa: Richard, no! I want to go with you! You’re a much bigger star than Hans Conreid.

Louie: (interjecting) Ingrid, that’s Paul Henreid!

Rick: Ah, shut up, Louie! Only Boomers will get that joke anyway!

Ilsa:  But Richard, please ....

Rick: Look, Ilsa, you’re getting on that plane! Someone has to sit next to Kevin Smith!

Ilsa: But I love you, Rick! More even than the Philadelphia Eagles!

Rick: If you’re not on that plane, someday you’ll regret it, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life - definitely no later than Hump Day! Look, Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble. But the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. (Actually maybe they do, considering the stink beans produce!) Someday you’ll understand that.

Rick: (turning to audience) Yes, folks, it’s still 1942 and it’s still SOP to talk to women – even Ingrid Bergman – like they’re dependent morons!

Rick: (to Ilsa) We’ll always have Paris. And there’ll be rude waiters for us wherever we go.

Ilsa: And I said I would never leave you.  Well, okay, I’ll leave you.  Here’s the number where I’ll be, make sure the sitter gets it!

Rick: Here’s lookin’ at you, kid! I’m saying it again because the stupid goat movie sort of tanked and I’m using up any excess dialogue!

Victor approaches to squire Ilsa onto the plane.

Rick: (to Victor) There's something you should know.  Ilsa was at my place last night.  She did everything she could to try to get the letters of transit. She even pretended to still be in love with me.   For my sake, I let her pretend.

Victor:  I understand. Since no one is to blame I ask for no explanations.

Rick:  Geez, are you easy!  If I'd have known that, we would have done a hell of a lot more pretending, including the one where I pretend to be the Orthodox Rabbi and she's the humongous pig roast!  

Victor: Welcome back to the fight! This time I know our side will win --- or at least finish in the money!

Victor and Ilsa board the plane as Rick and Inspector Renauld look on.

Louie: I suppose you realize this isn't going to be very pretty for either of us. Especially you.

Rick:  Yeah, but I do plan to do my bunk at the concentration camp in a light mauve with pinkish overtones.

Louie:  You know I'll have to arrest you.

Rick:  As soon as the plane leaves, Louie.  Maybe also wait until the boring in-flight movie with Nicholas Cage starts.

As the plane taxis down the runway, Major Strasser arrives and tries to stop it. He reaches for a nearby phone to order it halted.

Rick:  Step away from that phone!  You know it's too expensive to call Information.  Look up the number instead!

Major Strasser persists.

Rick:  I said stop!  I was willing to shoot Inspector Renault and I'm willing to shoot you.  I kind of want to see if when I hit you it makes a clanging noise and you turn about and start immediately going in the opposite direction.

Major Strasser pulls a gun and  BANG! BANG! BANG! (I am so juvenile!)  Rick shoots Major Strasser and he falls dead to the ground. Louie's deputies drive up in a jeep.

Louie: Major Strasser’s been shot!

There follows a pregnant pause as Rick and Inspector Renault cautiously regard each other.   No, they're not literally pregnant, you idiot!

Louie: (to his men) Round up the usual suspects!

Rick, quite relieved, half smiles knowingly at Inspector Renauld.

Louie:  What?!!   Who took Rick's name off the “Usual Suspects List?"   Ha-ha-ha, just a little joke, Ricky!

Rick: You’re still no Claude Rains, Louie.

Louie: You know, Rick, you’re not only a sentimentalist, you've become a great patriot!

Rick: Seemed like a good time to start.

Louie: I think perhaps you’re right.

Inspector Renault drops a bottle of Vichy water into a trash can and kicks it. And it goes through the uprights for a winning three point conversion, unlike Rick’s guts earlier in the movie!

Rick and Louie walk off together into the dense airport fog.

Rick: You know, Louie, this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship!

Louie: You're right, Rick! You follow me on Twitter, and I follow you back.

Rick: And you’d better ….. or I’ll unfollow your ass!              

THE END 

Return to Casablanca --- But Not For the Waters

 With that, our classic tale of heroism, intrigue, and romance concludes! I hope you enjoyed it. I personally am sick to death of it!

Let’s return now to our own crappy little lives, OK folks?

~~~~~~~~~~~