'I own Malibu': the stage play

July 31, 2006

Laurence Apathe
President
Los Angeles ArtWorks Center for the Performing Arts

Dear Mr. Apathe,

Here, in answer to your telephone call earlier today, is the first number you requested I tackle for “I Own Malibu.” I am a little anxious about your plan to make the story of Mel Gibson’s arrest and reaction a “rollicking comedy,” as you put it, but as I said, I’ve got no steady income and I was flattered to be approached.

Here goes. The swaggering protagonist is sprawled on the front seat of his car staring at the flashlight of a deputy sheriff, when he begins to sing in a rebellious tone.

Officer I’m suspicious of your motives
Son, you’re messing with a star
A star of immense proportion
A star who doesn’t give a flying fortz who you are
Who are you to test my sobriety?
You must be some second-rate
Twerpy wimpy faggy phony errand boy
Sent by the Israel Consulate

GIBSON LEAPS FROM THE CAR AND CONTINUES SINGING

I own Malibu
What kind of Jew are you
To think the Zionist conspiracy could apply to moi?
That’s not among the lessons I learned from Pa
And tell Sugar Tits over there
She’ll never see me in my underwear
I got Christian folks to see and better things to do
I own Malibu

THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY ATTEMPTS TO MAKE GIBSON TAKE A FIELD SOBRIETY TEST, BUT GIBSON BREAKS AWAY AND SINGS TO THE AUDIENCE:

If God wanted Jews to share Malibu with me
He’d have built them a settlement
He’d never countenance a Yid bringing my car to a skid
And asking me questions ‘bout the speed I went
Jew-boy fess up to what’s at play
You’re pissed that Israel can’t get its way
So you take it out on a superior race
Who can remind you in Aramaic as he spits it in your face

THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY WRESTLES GIBSON INTO A PAIR OF HANDCUFFS, BUT GIBSON, HIS BODY ANCHORED, CONTINUE TO POUR OUT HIS HEART

I own Malibu
And I can hold my liquor, too
In fact it makes me a truth-teller, helps me connect the dots
Between the Protocols of Elders and the world’s trouble spots
What kind of Jew are you?
You can’t imagine what I’m gonna do
I’m gonna be more self-righteous than Angelina and Brad
I’m gonna fill the Hollywood Reporter with self-serving ads
Catch the next jet to Jerusalem and meet up with Dad
Enlist a thousand celebrities in the Million Jew March

THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY REMOVES THE HANDCUFFS AND, WITH ANOTHER DEPUTY, BEGINS TO SHOVE GIBSON INTO THE BACK OF THE PATROL CAR, BUT GIBSON RESISTS LONG ENOUGH TO PROCLAIM:

And after all that, Deputy Kike,
The unwashed masses will like
Me a lot more than they like you
‘Cause I . . . own . . .Ma-li-bu

GIBSON’S HEAD DISAPPEARS INTO THE CAR

Please let me know if we’re heading in the right direction.

Peace,

Bob Baker



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