he following is an encore performance of a little-known "reality-style" television show first broadcast back in May of 1949 (until shut down in 1953 by its own spineless left-wing producers when Joseph McCarthy took exception to the supposed ideological slant of the show opening). The guest on this initial episode is the multitalented Ed Parsons, long before he had become known as "the father of cable television."

Davie Evans:
Five marginally impoverished entrepreneurs think they have a business plan that will advance them into the middle-class, but will their "get rich quick" schemes pass muster with five self-satisfied Americans who are already there?

Find out today on Lizards' Lair, the TV show where five illogically optimistic comrades compete for hundreds of dollars in potential micro-loans from five socially insulated and generally mistrustful members of the self-perpetuating bourgeoisie.

And now, speaking of that notoriously tight-fisted pentad of Marxist pariahs, let's meet today's Lizards:

Insert the Zippy Sound Patterns Here

First, meet Andrew Jones. Andrew may look like a normal street bum, but don't let his questionable fashion sense fool you. He is actually a well-remunerated operations supervisor for a local bank. And talk about moderately well-off: He's scarcely 30 years old, and his lifetime earnings already exceed $400!

Next, wouldn't you like to fly? Then follow in the wing-tipped footsteps of Gareth Pence who flies almost daily, absolutely free of charge, as a nicely compensated co-pilot for Branff Airlines. But hold onto your helmets because his current salary is soaring to a family-friendly $600 a year, albeit thanks to massive mandatory overtime.

Kill the so-called "Sound Patterns"

Right. I won't lie to you, folks: Our other three pseudo-high-rollers actually lost their seemingly good solid jobs this week in the recent economic downturn, but they should be back next week, if only as contestants. Meanwhile, we're sure that the cocky and disdainful Andrew and Gareth will give today's entrepreneurs the condescending cross-examinations that we've come to expect here in the Lizard's Lair.

And with that happy thought, let's bring in our first impoverished entrepreneur.

Ed Parsons: Good afternoon, gentlemen.

My n-name is Ed Parsons from As-Astoria, Oregon, and...

Andrew: YES? Speak up, Ed. We're busy and well-off people, you know. (Not like SOME of us here: humph.)

"Next!" Professional bourgeoisie Andrew prepares to categorically pan another idea -- after meticulously evaluating it, of course, to make sure it's just as stupid as it seems to be!

Gareth: Yes, DO speak up, Ed. I can't sit here all day staring mindlessly at my fingertips like this, as if in listless contemplation of some improbable upcoming manicure.

Andrew: Nor can I continue to blatantly yawn like this, Ed, my boy, or else I'm sure to eventually fall asleep at long last.

Parsons: Yes, well, I have an invention that will bring television into the homes of thousands of people, perhaps tens of thousands, even millions.

Gareth: All right, all right, don't get carried away now, Mister Edison! Jeez!

Andrew: Yes, please, Mr. Parsons. This is 1948, after all. A lot of people are already starting to buy television sets. I don't see what the big deal is.

Parsons: But my plan --

Gareth: Even my cousin Guido in the Bronx has one, for cryin' out loud.

Parsons: Yes, but you see, my invention brings the television signal to places where you couldn't get it before.

Gareth: Places where I couldn't get it before, eh, Ed? You know, I just thought of a great dirty joke to insert right here, but seeing as it's only 1949 and all, I guess I'd better forebear (SIGH!)

Parsons: I beg your pardon?

Andrew: Well, tell us about your plan, Ed. (This oughta be good, Gareth! Ha!)

Parsons: Well, now, I live in Astoria, Oregon, gentlemen, a good 125 miles south of the nearest decent television signal in Seattle.

Gareth: You're talking about that new station, what-d'ya-call-it, KRSC, right? (My brother lives in Seattle.)

Parsons: Yes, sir.

Andrew: And you're telling me that you've found a way to somehow magically receive a Seattle station down there in Astoria?

Parsons: Well, I don't know about the "magical" part --

Gareth: You know what, Ed? I don't know about the magical part either -- but continue.

Parsons: So I climbed up on the roof of the local hotel in Astoria, where I found I could bring in the Seattle station quite well via aerial during their very first broadcast.

Gareth: Yes? (Sigh)

Parsons: And then I strung me some sort of cable-like wires to my third-floor apartment down the street.

Andrew: Oh, yes? And I suppose you picked up KRSC very nicely then in your third-floor apartment down the street.

Parsons: Yes, I did, sir. In fact, we started getting visitors from all over, wanting to watch our television set.

Andrew: I'm sure you did.

Gareth: Andrew, let me handle this.

Andrew, exasperated: Please do.

Gareth: Look, Ed: You seem to be a nice guy. You must be a busy person with some "real" job or other -- what do you do, by the way, when you're not trying to reinvent the wheel like this?

Parsons: Well, I teach flying lessons...

Gareth: Okay, fine, so you teach flying lessons. Well --

Parsons: And I sell and repair communications gear for fishermen.

Gareth: Right. Well --

Parsons: Oh, I run my own radio station, too.

Gareth: Whatever.

Parsons: And I manage the local airport --

Gareth: Enough. The point is, you apparently have some day work that you can perform just fine. So what's holding you back?

I mean, look at me: I've made dollar after dollar as a copilot for Branff Airlines. Dollar after steady dollar. I mean, Rome wasn't built in a single business day. So forgive me, this million-dollar scheme of yours is just so much pie in the over-reaching sky. Tush tush, young man, settle down and put that nose of yours to the nearest available grindstone, do not pas GO, do not collect 200. You're no doubt scaring your right-minded friends and loved ones by flitting about so with these vague and unlikely plans of yours. I mean, patience, friend, patience: Slow and steady wins each and every race that I've ever heard of in this life, at least in THIS particular veil o' tears (void where prohibited by the laws of physics, may not apply in parallel universes).

"Cable what?" Professional bourgeoisie Garteth (sic) evinces misgivings with respect to the finanicial details of the Parsons business scheme.

Parsons: Huh?

Andrew: You don't get it, do you, Parsons?

Parsons: Get what, sir?

Andrew: Nobody wants to invest in endless miles of cable when the television signal is flowing free of charge for everyone to use right there in the pea-picking air!

Parsons: But --

Andrew: As for the Tin Man and Dorothy living out in the sticks, they may get poor television reception from time to time, but you can't expect such probably world-weary local yokels as that to have the wherewithal, financial or otherwise, to pay for an expensive cable system that's going to bring the signal straight to their no-doubt dilapidated doorway, as if on a silver platter!

Parsons: Yes, but bond issues could be floated --

Andrew: Good heavens, bond issues -- stuff and nonsense. (If you could only hear yourself talk, Ed.)

Gareth: Yes, I'm sorry, Ed, but my discretionary income is going to keep accruing interest at an admittedly dismal but nonetheless guaranteed rate in the First National Bank of Trenton, backed by the full faith and credit of our American government.

Parsons: But I already have customers ready to sign up.

Gareth: Steer them my way: I've got some swampland in New Jersey for 'em.




Davie Evans: Well, Parsons, that was not what you were expecting, was it?

Parsons: No, it certainly was not.

Davie Evans: But tell me, seriously, do you really think it's a wise investment of your time and money to try to custom-deliver this essentially "free" television signal to people's homes like this, and try to get them to pay you for it, into the bargain? I mean, our Lizards do have a point: Television exists already, and it's free.

Parsons: Yes. In fact, the Lizards didn't give me a chance to say this, but I've already got about 100 customers signed up in the Astoria area.

Davie Evans: What?

Parsons: Yeah, and I'm charging them $125 a head for installation, plus $3 a year upkeep.

Davie Evans: Is that so?

Parsons: SIGH! Oh, well. I expect I'll have to turn my attentions toward that commercial airline routing system that I've always wanted to build up at the Arctic Circle.

How much do you need, Ed? Show host Davie Evans hits up Parsons for a morally questionable hush-hush business deal shortly after show taping.

Davie Evans: Hey, hey, wait a minute, not so fast.

Parsons: What? What is it?

Davie Evans: What if I myself were to invest some of my own money in this "cable tv" scheme of yours?

Parsons: But you're the HOST of this show!

Davie Evans: Shh! Yes, I know, I'm the host of this show, but I think you've got a real winner here.

Parsons: Well, now, I --

Davie Evans: Oops. Hold that thought.

Davie Evans, facing audience: And that's it for today's Lizard's Lair, where another seemingly fruit-filled pie in the sky has landed smack-dab on the head of its hapless baker.

Parsons: What?

Davie Evans, aside: I'm just reading the dogmatically disdainful cue cards, Ed. Don't take it personally.

Davie Evans, to audience: Join us next week when impoverished contestant Peter Goldmark introduces his quote-unquote "color television set." Here's some scenes...

Andrew: Well, color me dubious, Peter.

Gareth: That makes two of us reasonably well-off bourgeoisie.

Andrew: Not that you should give up. You've invented a cute little "color" tube there: maybe you could make it into a party accessory.

Gareth: Yes, Peter, "think outside the box." Get it? Or should I say "think outside the boob tube."

Andrew and Gareth: Ha ha ha ha!

Davie Evans, aside: Now, then, how much investment capital do you need?

Parsons: Well, I --

Davie Evans: I make twice as much money as those clueless bozos out there in that bogus loft-like studio of ours.

"Why, you!" Perceiving an affront in his allegedly "slipshod" treatment on-camera, Parsons prepares to fight Andrew and Gareth in this boxing ring in Astoria, Oregon.

Parsons: I --

Davie Evans: In fact, our obviously hardcore Commie producer originally wanted to introduce me as a "robber baron," but CBS vetoed that language, noting that the voice-over introductory material was starting to sound like Das Kapital.

Parsons: Oh.

Davie Evans: Which our lawyers at the time maintained was a copyrighted work, ironically enough.

Parsons: Look, you're a busy man --

Davie Evans: How about $1,200 for a 40% stake in the company?

Parsons: Um...

Davie Evans: But mum's the word, yes? I'm down to just two Lizards and this show couldn't survive another panelist abnegation, particularly as we're already losing in our ratings war with that stupid "Life of Riley" program! (I'm beginning to think that this "reality tv" idea of mine is just plain ahead of its time!)