Trade Your Addiction for Marilyn Monroe!

“Goooooood Evening, North America, I’m Chet Chatterly and this is the most popular hologig of all time: Traaaaade Your Addiction!”

Chet appears in your living room, life-sized, lifelike, and especially lively this evening. He is dressed in a bronze-and-copper-pinstripe suit, his fluffy blond hair perfectly groomed and his perfect smile gleaming. “Tonight!” says Chet, waving his hands excitedly, “once again, we’re going to totally transform people’s lives, thanks to the glamor of Marilyn! Over the next eight hours, you’ll meet four heroin heads, five cocaine junkies, sixteen alcoholics, four hundred and forty-three men addicted to pornography, a chronic skyboat gambler, another billie bunch of diehard Eilish seniors, a frizzy fiend, and, of course, the obligatory sex addicts. All these pathetic, self-destructive weaklings will be given a Once In A Lifetime Opportunity to put a permanent end to the most miserable aspects of their stunted personalities by Trading Their Addictions!

All this— and a few surprises— just ahead!” —

— A serious news announcer's voice reverberates from your walls, saying, “From our OSN World News Central Situation Hub into your living room, here now is Walt Walters.”

— Seated behind his blue neon command desk, dressed in a somber water-colored suit, Walt Walters addresses the nation in his distinctive deadpan baritone. “Good Evening, North America. I’m Walter Walters and this is an OSN News Brief. In New Constantinople, the Eurasian Sociological Summit began today with the arrival of leaders from six of the world’s eight nations. This will be the first Summit attended by Europe’s newly elected Chancellor Gladys Gladwell, whereas it will be the twelfth summit attended by long-time President of Africa Jaazaniah Jones, and the twenty-first summit attended by King Sidney Australia of the Pacific United Isles. The elderly Emperor Ai Wei Lun of the Celestial East remains in poor health and will participate virtually from his palace in New Beijing.

“Arabia’s controversial Sultan Shahin bin Snidely bin Sadid Sulibani has invited officials from South America to attend the Summit, but both North America and our Central American allies have been snubbed.

“Our beloved President Donald Nixon had this to say about the slight, ‘All free people everywhere need to be wary of what’s happening in New Constantinople! Sulibani is an evil madman! His followers think he’s God’s barber! Or something like that.’

“Vice President George paused during his regular Thursday afternoon snake-charming training to sum up the Golden Administration’s position, saying, ‘You wait and see. By the end of the Summit, Sulibani will have all the other leaders eating out of his ass!’

“CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno, made these comments about today’s events: ‘Who cares what happens overseas? North Americans pay attention to what really matters . . . like the most popular hologig of all time!’”

— “This has been an Old School Nettube News Brief,” says the serious announcer.

— Walt Walters and the OSN News desk minimize and fade away, as a peppy Chet Chatterly dashes out of a wall, saying, “Welcome back, everybody, to Traaaade Your Addiction! Let’s get this therapy thumpin’, shall we?”

A North American holographic audience applauds in agreement.

Talking and smiling simultaneously, Chet excitedly proclaims, “We’ll start our gig tonight with Johnnie Walker, our roving alcoholic twicker. Tonight Johnnie is tagging in from a nude bar in New Colorado Springs. So without further ado, heeeeeeere’s Johnnie!”

As Chet steps out of the scene, your hologrid becomes a commercial street corner, where Johnnie Walker is awaiting you. Wearing a black suit and a bright red shirt, Johnnie holds an old-fashioned OSN microphone in one hand and a perma-frosted glass of brown liquid in the other. Through the miracle of scent’o-rama, you know he’s drinking whiskey because of the smell.

Behind Johnnie is a squat gray tavern, with a prominent green door, but not a single visible window. A hologram is projected on top of the flat-roofed structure in the form of a snow-capped mountaintop, rising almost five stories high.

Johnnie Walker smiles at you before beginning his report. “Good Evening, North America! I’m Johnnie Walker and tonight we’re in New Colorado Springs, at a nude bar called Spike’s Peak, just off the Silver Nugget mag-line. We’ve received numerous slipmails from local Marilyn enthusiasts about this den of iniquity. The babble has it that the babes in this place are some of the lumpiest in the southwest!” Johnnie gestures (with his microphone) for you to follow him. As the door to the tavern slides open with a whoosh, he draws North America in, saying, “But let’s find out for ourselves, shall we?”

The sound of muffled music can be heard thrumming through the walls as Johnnie enters a short alcove. A second green door just ahead is guarded by a broad, bulky bouncer seated on a stool. The (mostly) hairless gorilla’s scowling face is brightly transformed by the sight of a celebrity he obviously recognizes.

“Hi, there,” says Johnnie. He looks at you and snickers at his own casualness.

The bouncer jumps to his feet to greet the famous twicker. “My God!” Shaking Johnnie’s hand, he asks all the usual questions, “Is it really you? Are you Logging Live? Is this Trade Your Addiction?”

“Jip dippy, it is!” says Johnnie. After taking a swig of his whiskey, he asks, “Why? Got an addiction you’d like to trade?”

As have so many others before him, the ape-man averts his eyes as he equivocates. “Maybe.”

Johnnie asks, “What name did you give yourself?”

“Barry,” says the bouncer. “Barry Brute.” He rattles off his Taco Bell classification preference and his North American citizenship number.

Johnnie alternates between talking into the microphone and shoving it in Barry’s face. “I take it you’ve seen our gig before and know why we’re here?”

“Absolutely,” says Barry, talking fast. “You’re going to ask some alchies if they want to trade their addictions and for every person that takes you up on the offer, you’re going to pay the owner and all his employees!”

“What’s the owner of this joint like?” asks Johnnie.

“Spike?” Barry shrugs. “He’s okay.”

Johnnie is amused. “There really is a ‘Spike’?”

“Yeah,” says Barry, seemingly confused by the question.

“Go on,” urges Johnnie. “What else are we going to offer everyone working here?”

Barry exclaims, “We can Trade Our Addictions too!”

“You are correct, sir!” enthuses Johnnie. “All thanks to the magnanimous sponsorship of who?”

Barry looks right at you as he says, “Addiswap Indivisible Developments!”

“That’s right!” Johnnie takes a long drink from his chilled glass before showing sympathy for the bouncer’s plight. “It’s gotta be a yank-pube, sitting out here alone every night, with all that lusciously lumpy cuddle hidden just behind those closed doors.”

Barry sighs heavily and nods.

“So, cuz…” Johnnie drinks and grins before going on, “you wanna go inside with us?”

“Scuzz, yeah!” shouts the Neanderthal.

When the seal on the tavern’s entrance is broken, throbbing music and multicolored-light-beams escape from within. Johnnie peeks inside, then looks back at you and lets his tongue loll out in an exaggerated pantomime of a panting dog, while simultaneously fanning himself.

Finally, with you and Barry-the-bouncer in tow, Johnnie enters the nude bar.

Through the miracle of scent’o-rama, you smell several kinds of smoke and liquor, a few bad perfumes, and a lethal amount of cologne. The current dancer on the stage is a big titty Latino babe wearing nothing but black high heels and skimpy red panties. She shakes her—

— — “This is an OSN Special Report! From our World News Central Situation Hub into your living room, here now is Walt Walters.”

Replacing the scene in New Colorado Springs, the OSN News Desk is maximized to full size, now lit in red alert scarlet. Walt Walters apologizes for interrupting your favorite gig, “We apologize, North America, for interrupting your regularly scheduled hologig but we have disturbing news tonight from the Eurasian Sociological Summit in New Constantinople. Gladys Gladwell has been assassinated! The Chancellor of Europe was killed by a localized krazz explosion during the summit’s opening ceremonies. African President Jaazaniah Jones was also injured and is listed tonight in critical condition. Additionally, five other people were killed in the blast. We have disturbing goggles of the event, which we will replay from several angles, at several different speeds, on a nonstop loop for the next twenty-seven continuous minutes.”

Walt Walters and his news desk are again miniaturized and dropped to the floor, so that part of your living room can be transformed into the Eurasian Sociological Summit chamber where a lady luminary just met her untimely end.

Unhappy that Trade Your Addiction was preempted just as they were getting to the good part, you power down your hologrid and go to bed early.

Two Weeks Later —

“Goooooood Evening, North America, I’m Chet Chatterly and this is the most popular hologig of All Time: Traaade Your Addiction!”

Tonight Chet is wearing a cheerful tiger-skin suit, but he looks unusually grim, a sure signal he has some kind of special announcement to make.

“I have a special announcement to make,” announces Chet. “Here at OSN, we’ve received a gajillion slipmails asking us if we will continue to fastcast new episodes of Trade Your Addiction, in light of the terrible events currently in the news. As you know, all the major connecttubes have suspended most of their regular hologig attractions. These are difficult times.” The strain on Chet to be this straight-faced is so great, he visibly shudders. “With our fastcast, however— the most popular hologig of all time— we are more than mere entertainment! We transform people! With every episode of this gig, we are empowering North Americans to rid themselves of their own assholiness! Therefore!” says Chet, shedding some of the seriousness and sounding more like his normal exuberant self, “all of us here at Old School Nettube consider it our civic duty to bring to you all new episodes of Traaaaaaaaaade Your Addiction!”

From your command comfolounger, you applaud and cheer the return of your favorite fastcast. All the news lately has been so depressing.

As if he read your mind, Chet sympathizes, “And since we know how depressing all the news has been lately, we’re gaga to announce that Trade Your Addiction will now be Logging Live with new fastcasts twenty-four/seven!”

A cheering audience begins to pop up around Chet, thousands and then millions of them, clapping and stomping. You hit the APPLAUSE button on your command chair and add your own holo-avatar to the appreciative throng.

When the applause finally dies down, Chet says, “And we’ll kick off tonight’s all new, all fresh, all exciting episode of Trade Your Addiction with yet another special announcement— right after this News Brief.”

— “From our OSN World News Central Situation Hub into your living room— good evening, North America, I’m Walter Walters.” Tonight, Walt Walters appears in your living room wearing a dark suit and a darker expression. His OSN News desk is lit up amber and all his goggle-screens are swarming with violent images. Walt announces, “North American spies working in tandem with Interpol and other lawkeepers in Europe have found still more evidence linking Arabian Sultan Shahin bin Snidely bin Sadid Sulibani to the assassination of Saint Gladys Gladwell at the Eurasian Sociological Summit. Sultan Sulibani still claims he was anonymously warned away from the Summit’s opening ceremonies at the last minute, explaining that is why he wasn’t present when an explosion killed Gladys Gladwell and five others. But new evidence gathered by our own National Intelligence Bureau suggests that top officials within Sulibani’s regime were directly connected to the terrorists responsible for planting the deadly bomb.

“This afternoon, our beloved President Donald Nixon took time out of his busy vacation at his New Daytona Beach ranch to speak with twackers, saying. . . .”

“There is no reasoning with that nut-job Sulibani!” The President appears in your living room dressed in multicolored shorts (showing off his knobby knees) and a T-shirt that reads, The Chief Executive Loves Spring Break!

“He’s a deranged sadist! He wants to rule all of Eurasia!" President Nixon broadens his condemnation: “All Arabians are radicals! And all radicals are our enemies!”

Your President reaches out a holographic hand to you, saying, “Also, my fellow North Americans, we must never forget that Arabia has corrupted South America, bringing the conflict to our Hemisphere, in a provocative manner Eurasians fail to understand.”

“So,” says President Donald Nixon, taking a broad, bow-legged stance, “because North Americans are resoundingly committed to opposing the nefarious Arabian regime, I am calling for Silver Congress to authorize emergency funding for the immediate manufacture of 1.7 million robo-soldiers, the first 500,000 to be deployed in the next three months, with remaining 1.2 million turbo troops to be deployed by Christmas!”

Millions of North Americans join in applauding their beloved leader.

When the clamor dies down, the President’s image freezes and fades away, as Walt Walters reappears to report, “Vice President George paused during his pre-invasion polar bear hunting vacation to speak with twackers, saying, ‘Get away from me, you parasites, before I shoot someone in the ass!’

“CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno, had this to say about today’s events. . . .”

Cecil’s grandfatherly head appears, larger than life, and he speaks in a resounding voice that echoes through your home. “Let the politicians and generals worry about the proper way to invade Arabia and annihilate that violent, oppressive culture! Are you a military tactician?” He looks at you, sadly shaking his huge head. “I didn’t think so. So what can you do once the zapbots start to roll? You can’t stop the war, so why worry about it? Listen to your old Uncle Cecil, now. Let killer androids do what killer androids were programmed to do and you concentrate on what you should do, as a hard-thinking, fun-loving North American patriot!” Cecil produces his trademark paternal smile. “Concentrate on watching Trade Your Addiction!”

— “This has been an Old School Nettube News Brief,” says the somber announcer.

Tiny naked nymphs prance across your carpet, throwing petals out of baskets, leaving a dissolving floral trail as they sing, “🎼🎵🎶 Ooooooh. ESssssss. ENnnnnnn.”

— Chet Chatterly dashes out of the wall, smiles at you, and announces, “Tonight we’re going first to the city of New Indianapolis, where our roving smoking twicker— Merits Marlboro— is about to launch an exciting new era of Trade Your Addiction!

“Take it away, Merits!”

Merits Marlboro is dressed in green sharkskin slacks and an orange camel-fur jacket. In his right hand is an OSN microphone. In his left hand, clamped between his four fingers are three ultra-long lit cigarettes. Inhaling noisily from all three, Merits peers at you through a haze of harsh (real, thanks to smell’o-rama) smoke and says, “Tonight I’m in a residential neighborhood in New Indianapolis, just off the Central Hoosier mag-line. As you can see, it’s a typical North American neighborhood.”

Modest two-story houses with cramped yards line both sides of a thin, stainless-steel street. On the lawn in front of one middling home, two Yorkshire terriers are yapping and frolicking. In another yard, a three-toed sloth hangs from the branches of a banana tree inside a climate-controlled biozone.

At the nearest intersection, a tattlebooth sits on the corner. Above that conspicuous flat OSN kiosk is a revolving hologram of the ubiquitous Marilyn.

As Merits walks up to a parchment yellow house, he announces, “This is the dwelling of one Joe Blow. According to his family, Joe is a real son of a glitch! They say he smokes more than a chimney in an emu-burning plant! But let’s see for ourselves, shall we?” The hologrid that is a large chunk of your living room follows a trail of Merits’ smoke onto the porch of the sepia-toned house. Holding all three cigarettes in his mouth, Merit pushes the blinking summoner button.

Your hazy roving TYA twicker tells you, “We’ve got a surprise for you tonight, my North American cousins! Wait ‘til you see—” Merits stops talking as the front door whooshes open, revealing a scruffy man holding a frazz gun. “What the scuzz are y—!” The man is unable to finish his sentence because of a sudden bout of coughing.

Puffing on his three cigarettes, Merits Marlboro commiserates, “I feel your pain, buddy.”

Joe pounds his own T-shirt-clad chest, stops his coughing, and glares at Merits. “I know you.”

Merits grins. “Of course you do.”

“You’re not welcome here,” says the grubby man with the blinking frazz gun.

“Really?” Merits sounds unperturbed. “Why not?”

“I like my addiction!” shouts Joe. “I don’t wanna trade it!” He waves his heater at Merits, demanding, “Now get the scuzz off my property before I zap ya!”

Totally ignoring the threat to his life, Merits looks back at you and says, “Isn’t this just typical, sad, North American behavior?”

“Hey!” says Joe, charging forward, weapon-first. “I said: Get your scuzzing ass outta here, frizzwit!”

Suddenly your viewpoint zooms in on Merits’ hand as he holds the OSN microphone; you witness him thumb-punch a button on the wireless control-stick, with an audible click!

Instantly, a conical light beam comes humming down from the heavens. As the holocam pulls back, you see Joe is now trapped inside a tight, purple, government-satellite-spawned, localized e.m.-pulse negation field.

As the man in the stained white T-shirt looks up, saying, “What the f—!,” Merits Marlboro energizes the end of his OSN microphone, revealing it is also a blackjack jolt-stick. Joe’s exclamation, “Oh, s—!” is cut off when Merits electrocutes him.

His nervous system flooded with a crackling arc of alternating current, Joe Blow drops his frazz gun and does a jerky jitter-dance. After three teeth-chattering seconds, the blue lightning stops and Joe collapses onto his styroturf.

Merits deactivates the high voltage handle of his microphone, while puffing on his cigarettes.

Joe twitches, jerks, and shudders on the ground, smoke wafting off his body. Barely conscious, drool sputters from his quivering lips.

Merit prods the man with his foot, asking, “Guess what, cuz? Because he’s such a big fan of our gig—”

The Leader of Free North America sticks his head out of one of your living room walls just long enough to say, “I’m a big fan of Trade Your Addiction!”

Merit continues, “Our beloved President Donald Nixon signed into law earlier today the TYA Intervention Act! Now, if the addiction is severe enough, as testified to by at least three taxpaying family members, we’ve been authorized to Do The Right Thing and help people help themselves!

“We’re taking Trading Your Addiction to a whole new zero!”

There is much applause and cheering and gnashing of teeth, before Mr. Marlboro stills the home audience.

“Take your average Joe Blow, here,” says Merits, blowing smoke down at the still reeling Hoosier. “His wife, his daughters, his brother, his mother, even his dog have all asked us to intervene in his case! Cigarettes are only one of Joe’s obsessions. He’s also addicted to bad beer, macho chow, vintage Cheetos, gravi-baseball, porn opera, and dog emojis.” Mr. Marlboro steps up to Mr. Blow and kicks him, saying, “You’re just an average 22nd Century jazzhole, aren’t ya, Joey?”

Merits allows the North American audience a moment to register their disdain with boos and hisses and other sounds of disapproval before he declares, “Well, tonight, cuz, you’re going to be converted to the glory of Marilyn . . . whether you like it or not!”

Merit gestures to someone behind the camera, saying, “Let’s get him into the convertomobile, boys!”

Six large, bald, angry-looking men wearing Trade Your Addiction t-shirts and too-tight white jeans rush into your field of vision, obscuring your view of the lucky Mr. Blow.

This new, more aggressive style of Trade Your Addiction is terribly exciting! You can’t wait to see how this dumbass acts toward Merits three hours from now, after he’s seen the light of Marilyn!

Only two men are needed to drag the mostly limp (and still occasionally twitching) Hoosier away. The other four Trade Your Addiction ogres act as posse for the miserable addict. After Joe is shoved into the convertomobile, Merits Marlboro takes an exaggerated sniff and says, “The air already smells cleaner!”

Merits then reminds you, “If you support the Intervention Act and the war time policies of our beloved President Donald Nixon, log on to WeLoveNixon.gov/feedback and register your support!”

Chet Chatterly strides back onto the scene, walking over to Merits, as he addresses you, “And if you have an addicted relative you’d like to nominate for Intervention, stop by your local tattlebooth today!”

Merits steps back and the neighborhood fades behind him, revealing your living room again. Merits assures you before he vanishes, “We’ll be checking back with Mr. Blow later in tonight’s gig!”

Chet Chatterly smiles and informs you, “Next up is our roving sex twicker, Buffy Fluffer, reporting tonight from a brothel in Newer Las Vegas where wild orgies are routinely organized by the well-known sex-addicted celebrity Charlie Sh—”

— — “This is an OSN Special Report! We interrupt your regularly scheduled hologig with news of WAR!” Trumpets play a stately fanfare as Walt Walters appears in your living room seated behind his bright red, white, blue, and gold desk. A gigantic North American flag flies proudly behind him, flapping in a freshly minted breeze that (thanks to smell’o-rama) wafts through your home. “Good Evening, North America! I’m Walter Walters and we are at War! In a surprise preemptive attack tonight, North American robo-armies teamed with the military of our Central American allies to attack many key cities in South America, including Neuvo Bogota, Neuvo Caracas, and Old Buenos Aires. Simultaneously overseas, the other half of our existing turbo-troops joined with mecha-convoys from Europe to establish a ninety-mile fighting front on the border of Arabia, where our forces are being met with surprisingly fierce robotic resistance.

“At this hour, our beloved President Donald Nixon is meeting in New Constantinople with the new Chancellor of Europe, Heinrich Heidelberg, who was formerly Vice Chancellor under the late, great Saint Gladys Gladwell.

“Vice President George canceled his long-awaited review today of the Rocky Mountain Condor Cloning and Meat Packing Company to return to the Gold House in Newest Washington, where he spoke briefly about the Enemy, saying, ‘Our robots are twenty percent more powerful than their robots! We’re going to kick their pathetic tin asses!’

“CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno, had this to say to all God-fearing patriotic North Americans, “I know we would all rather be watching Trade Your Addiction... but this is War!”

Walt Walters announces, “We have reports from OSN twackers on every front of this War Against Radical Tyranny. We’ll start by—”

You start your coverage by powering down the hologrid. Disgusted, knowing that Trade Your Addiction won’t resume fastcasting for hours (if not days!), you decide to go to bed early.

Two Months Later —

As you settle into your command comfolounger with an ever-full mug of your favorite beverage, you power up your hologrid, only to hear the serious news announcer voice immediately say, “From our OSN World News Central Situation Hub into your living room, here now is Walt Walters.”

— Walt's suit is water-colored; the OSN News desk is neon blue; and all is obviously right with the world. “Good Evening, North America, I’m Walter Walters and this is an OSN News Brief. All the other connecttubes are talking tonight about Old School and we couldn’t be more proud!” Behind the unusually chipper newscaster, the goggle-screens show talking heads on other fastcasts discussing Trade Your Addiction. “At the urging of our beloved Golden Administration, the Silver Congress joined together today in unprecedented unity to pass the Trade Your Addiction Corrective Rights Act. This new law allocates two gazillion North American tax dollars to provide you with the guaranteed right to correct your personality flaws! Are you a pain in the ass shizzhead? Or a know-it-all clunk-bucket? Or a wimpy lick-lizard gook-craver? Or maybe you’re just a stupid jerk! Whatever your horror is, you do now have the New Constitutional Right to tame your inner spazz and live clear-headed and affliction free!”

Walt Walters goes on to explain, “Coming soon, to every major city in North America: mag-portable mobile-giggers, designed to provide citizens with the full Trade Your Addiction experience, including a lifelike, life-sized, lively Chet Chatterly, empowered by the most sophisticated A.I. matrix in the known universe!”

Walt is so excited, he sounds more like Chet than himself. “Over the course of the next decade, North American citizens in good standing with their Government will be scheduled one mobile-gigger hour and then the subsequent required three hours in a convertofield. There are provisions for people who don’t have addictions or don’t wish to trade their addictions: they can swap their mobile-gig time for a variety of consolation prizes.

“The first mobile-giggers are expected to be deployed in as little as two months, first in the Big Twenty and then in thousands of cities nationwide.

“And now, our beloved President Donald Nixon will speak to us from a secret bunker somewhere on the Arabian front.”

President Nixon appears in your living room dressed in a crumpled blue suit and tie, announcing, “The government of North America has no desire to change anything that Cecil B DiGiorno has accomplished with the Addiswap process. Throughout all history, has there ever been anyone who has done more to rid humanity of the demons that plague us? I say to you!” your President points right at you, “Cecil B. DiGiorno is a hero! Everyone who’s ever appeared on Trade Your Addiction is a hero! When Marilyn is embraced in every home in every city- from Newest New York to Newer Los Angeles- then we shall all be free, in a way we have never been free before!

“My fellow North Americans, now begins the Age of Self-Improvement, which my administration has made possible! We will fund Addiswap Indivisible Developments so that they can bring the Trade Your Addiction experience to the masses!”

Somewhere secret near the old Holy Lands, President Nixon strikes a pose, nose high, hands raised, fingers reaching, expecting applause.

His expectations are realized thunderously.

You key-command your own avatar to join the clapping North American throng.

The applause refuses to die down for many long minutes.

When Walt Walters is finally maximized in your living room, the announcer sounds a bit hoarse, as if he might have been cheering himself. Walt informs you, “Vice President George is currently overseeing clone-fighter velociraptor releases somewhere behind enemy lines, where he is quoted as saying, ‘I’m going Jurassic on these mother-scuzzer’s asses!’

“CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno, had this to say to all loyal Trade Your Addiction feelers, “All of us here at Addiswap Indivisible Developments are proud and honored to take up this monumental task. Our goal has always been to help North Americans to live happier, healthier, hardier lives. In bringing you Trade Your Addiction, we have always felt we are doing a public service. And now, thanks to the efforts of our brilliant and beloved President Donald Nixon, we can assure every citizen of North America will benefit from the Addiswap process!

“And if that isn’t gaga enough, TYA feelers will have additional opportunities to win phenomenal prizes during certain hours by voting on whether or not the Chet Chatterly that is being fastcast twenty-four/seven is true skin or an A. I. holodupe!

“The innovations just ahead will take Trade Your Addiction to a whole new zero!”

“From the OSN World News Situation Hub, I’m Walt Walters!”

Even as Walt and his blue desk are being minimized, you hear the newscaster whoop with glee.

— “Goooooood Evening, North America, I’m Chet Chatterly and this is the most popular hologig of all time: Traaade Your Addiction!” Tonight Chet’s smile is even bigger than normal, threatening to nibble on his earlobes. He’s dressed in a patriotic red, white, blue, and gold suit, complete with a star-studded top hat, just like Uncle Sam Hill. After taking many bows and allowing applause to reign for several minutes, Chet says, “Everyone, of course, is talking about the big new Trade Your Addiction legislation! I don’t know about you but I can’t wait for the first traveling-gigger prototypes to be unveiled! It’s truly a glorious time to be a North American!”

For three minutes, the country registers its agreement with applause.

When Chet finally silences the audience, he informs you, “But what many good Christian citizens aren’t aware of is that today is special in another way. Today OSN officially gobbled up both Incast Communications and Comsight Holoprogg! Our aggressive take-over of both companies was a gagagian success!” Chet points at you, proclaiming, “Every North American citizen will ultimately benefit from this historic gobblemerge! We welcome the feelership of both Incast and Comsight!”

The flying naked nymphs flutter above Chet’s head, singing, “🎼🎵🎶 Welcome to Oooooo ESsssssss ENnnnnnnn!”

Chet flicks one of the nymphs on her naked butt, sending the tiny sprite careening through the air. Chuckling, he says, “Normally, we would go right to one of our world-class celebrity twickers for our first round of Trade Your Addiction . . . but before we do that, we’d like to take a moment to explain to our newly expanded audience how the Addiswap process works.”

You groan. You’ve felt this gig since it first logged on. You already know how the Addiswap process works.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” says Chet, with grandiose gesturing, “I give to you the world-renowned expert on addiction— Doctor Phil Gorge!”

Doctor Gorge comes waddle-running out of your wall and rushes over to shake Chet’s hand.

“Good evening, Doctor.”

“How’s it shivin’, Chet?”

“Gaga,” answers the dashing Mr. Chatterly. “So, Doc, could you please explain to our new captives what makes Addiswap so scuzzin’ great.”

Doctor Gorge chuckles. “Well, Chet, everyone who’s ever tried to go on a diet, quit smoking, kick alcoholism, or give up jam junking knows how hard it is to conquer certain addictions. While the symptoms of physical withdrawal can be terrible, the mental withdrawal from what we crave is often even worse.”

Chet looks bored. “Having seen thousands of junkies on our hologig over the years— you’re not telling me anything new, Doc.”

Doctor Gorge persists, undaunted by Chet's jaded attitude. “'Once an Addict, Always an Addict’ is an old cliché... but it’s essentially true. Curing an addiction would involve not only an alteration in brain chemistry but also the difficult struggle to break bad habits.”

“Screw that,” says Chet. “We’re North Americans! We want easy solutions!”

“Damn jippy!” The good doctor agrees. “Accordingly, we— here at Addiswap Indivisible Developments— have developed a specialized, patented technique whereby previously harmful addictions are replaced by a new obsession that is both benign and beautiful.”

Chet winks at you before asking the stupid question, “And who exactly are you talking about, Doctor Gorge?”

“Why...” Phil looks flummoxed to have been asked such a stupid question. “Marilyn, of course!” And then he beams the smile of the enlightened.

“Honorable North American cousins, without further ado,” says Chet, “I give to you, in all her glory: the incredible, loveable, vivacious, stupendous, luscious, long-lasting, lumpiest of the lumpy . . . Marilyn Monroe!”

She is dressed as she was on the old-world night when she sang Happy Birthday to President John Kennedy, in a sheer flesh-colored gown covered with 2,500 rhinestones. The dress was so tight she couldn’t wear any undergarments when her voluptuous nude body was sewn into it.

Gazing into your eyes, Marilyn Monroe wiggles her magnificent bosom at you as she puckers up her bright red lips and blows you a kiss.

“But Doctor,” says Chet, playing ignorant or devil’s advocate, “is an addiction to Marilyn that much preferable over any other kind of addiction? If I’m married and I become fixated on Marilyn, why would I wanna sleep with my spouse?”

Doctor Gorge chuckles. “I repeat: the reliance on Marilyn is a benign addiction. It can be fed simply by watching a snippet of Gentlemen Prefer Blonds, or The Seven Year Itch, or anything else Marilyn. And while you will appreciate the beauty of the woman, she won’t inspire lust in you.”

Chet scoffs. “Are you kidding me? You're trying to tell me I could look at her,” he points at Marilyn, “and not pop a weasel?”

“Addiswapped enlightened awareness allows you to appreciate Marilyn on a more ethereal zero. Until you’ve experienced it for yourself, it’s difficult to understand.”

Chet leans closer to Doctor Gorge and lowers his voice, like this conversation isn’t being heard by billions of people. “They say it’s like a sustained thrill'gasm. Total energizing bliss.”

Doctor Gorge looks at you and says, “The point is how easy it is to satisfy this benign addiction. If you’re feeling anxious or stressed, just peeking at Marilyn’s image can be enough to totally soothe your nerves. Whenever you need a fix for whatever ails you… Marilyn is always there.”

“But,” says Chet, playing dumb for the sake of the noobs watching, “of all the nouns you could swap addictions for, why does the Addiswap process focus solely on Marilyn?”

“Are you kidding me?” exclaims Doctor Gorge. “Just look at her!”

Both men do, with admiration— and all of North America looks with them.

Finally, Chet slaps his hands together, breaking Doctor Phil out of a trance. “Shock on, Doc! This Addiswap Process really does sound gaga!”

“If you think Marilyn is shizzle now, just wait until you’re addicted to her!” The good patriotic doctor puts his thumbs in his armpits and puffs up with pride, declaring, “I know what I’m talking about! I’m not just a professionally trained Addiswap physician!” He glows with the inner light of Marilyn as he proclaims, “I’m also a client!”

“Well, thank you, Doctor Gorge for—” —

— — “This is an OSN Special Report! We interrupt your regularly scheduled hologig with tragic breaking news!” While cellos, clarinets, and French horns weep a minor-key dirge, Walt Walters appears in your living room, red-eyed, quiver-lipped, and ashen-faced, wearing black. The OSN news desk is glowing a sickly shade of green. “Terrible news, North America! CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno, is dead tonight, killed by an assassin’s frazzin!”

⚡⚡ You gasp in horror and disbelief. ⚡⚡

“The murderer has been identified as an Arabian nationalist linked to the evil regime of Sultan Shahin bin Snidely bin Sadid Sulibani. Little else is known at this hour about the perpetrator of this heinous crime.”

After wiping tears from his bloodshot eyes, Walt informs you, “Upon hearing the news, our beloved President Donald Nixon vowed to ‘raze Arabia to the ground’ in retaliation for the murder of North America’s most revered corporate overlord.

“Vice President George returned to the Gold House from another successful manticore splicing experiment in a secret installation somewhere in Manitoba, vowing, ‘If New Congress doesn’t triple the amount of money going to the Trade Your Addiction Corrective Act in a memorial to this great man, they can eat my ass!”

A moment of silence follows the Vice President's declaration. This is the part of the hologig where CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B. DiGiorno traditionally speaks.

Walt Walter breaks down and cries.

All of North America weeps with him.

Two Years Later —

— As you settle back into your command comfolounger, the serious news announcer announces, “From our OSN World News Central Situation Hub into your living room, here now is Walt Walters.”

— “Good Evening, North America, I’m Walter Walters and this is an OSN Special Report! We are just moments away from hearing our beloved President Donald Nixon address the nation in what we expect to be a critical speech.

“All over the planet tonight, the news is especially grim. On the Arabian front, our robotic forces have been rendered obsolete by a new model of e.m.-pulse cannons. Our evil Enemies now wield true Weapons of Mass Disruption!

“Arabia seems to produce an endless stream of young men willing to die in what they consider a holy jihad, while long continued economic disruptions in Europe are causing Allied Forces to dwindle.

“In Central America, Arabian combatants, aided by the drug cartels, engage in a constant barrage of bloody terrorist attacks.

“In South America, our Allied armies remain entangled in the Brazilian rainforest while the South American government under Generalissimo Ricco ‘Dirty’ Sanchez remains utterly inaccessible in his stronghold in the Andes mountains.

“In Africa, famine ravages the north, while civil war rages in the south, making it difficult for President Jaazaniah Jones to keep his promise to commit additional resources against Arabia.

“In the far east, the Ascendent Nation of the Celestial East and the Pacific United Isles are now engaged in their own conflict— a war we North Americans can’t even begin to care about.

“The only good news for our President tonight is the remarkable success of the Cecil B DiGiorno Memorium Act, which has already made it possible for nearly thirty-nine percent of all North Americans to trade their dependencies and live new, productive, affliction-free lives!”

As the OSN World News Situation Hub slowly minimizes down to mouse-size, Walt is saying, “Let’s go now to the Pyramid Room in the Gold House where our beloved and brilliant President Donald Nixon is just moments away from giving a historic address.”

The President is dressed tonight in a traditional gold tuxedo, seated behind his gold triangular desk in his gold triangular office with the gold triangular Seal of the Nation hovering behind him.

President Nixon looks grim and sweaty as he says, “My fellow North Americans, I do not come to you tonight to speak of conflicts far away. The wars we fight abroad against the enemies of freedom and decency will only be won by us first assuring liberty in our own country. And how must all responsible North Americans secure their freedom?”

Your President provides the answer. “CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B. DiGiorno knew the way to enable North American greatness!” Behind President Nixon appears a smiling holodupe the late, great, Saint Cecil B. DiGiorno. “Cecil knew that to truly realize the dream of self-determination, our citizens must be empowered to rid themselves of their debilitating obsessions!”

President Nixon keeps dabbing his brow with a handkerchief. He is perspiring like a spitting cobra. The stains under his arms grow larger by the second. After taking a stiff drink of water, the Leader of Free North America continues, “Lately, much to our great sorrow and dismay, this Administration has learned of irregularities within Addiswap Indivisible Developments, attributed to Benedict Boyardee, the man who took over as CEO after Cecil B. DiGiorno’s untimely demise. Several members of the board of directors of Addiswap are also about to be indicted for graft and treason. Our distinguished Nationalized Intelligence Bureau has discovered incontrovertible evidence that the current overlords of Addiswap Indivisible Developments have robbed you,” your President reaches out a long finger attached to a long arm, pointing at you, “of your tax dollars, buffing their own bank accounts with revenue intended to cure spazzmatic North Americans! That is why, in addition to taking into custody these enemies of the people, I have also regrettably come to the inescapable conclusion that it is best for all North Americans and Free Citizens Everywhere that we immediately nationalize both Addiswap Indivisible Developments and Trade Your Addiction, the most popular hologig of all time.

“Rest assured, my fellow North Americans, this Administration has no desire or intention to change anything about the cherished Trade Your Addiction experience. In fact,” says beloved President Donald Nixon, “Stay Tuned right after my speech for a brand new, always new, extra-special, first ever Nationalized Trade Your Addiction, where a new world record for mass conversion will be set tonight by the entire collective population of New Cincinnati!”

After another sponging of his forehead, the President concludes, “Finally, I want to assure every hero who’s already traded their addictions that they are not forgotten and forever appreciated! Thirty-nine percent of the population have now seen the light of Marilyn! But I won’t stop until every American is freed from the demon dependencies that afflict their souls!

“Hear me when I say this, all you assembled tonight…” President Nixon’s expression is uncharacteristically stern (and uncharacteristically scary). “No longer will citizens simply be able to say they aren’t addicted and it will be accepted at face value. We hate to punish everyone for the actions of a few, but it is undeniable that some citizens have abused their rights.

“Simply put,” says the simple President, “Some people are liars.”

“A new era is dawning, my fellow North Americans! As a nation, we stand today stronger than ever before! And we will be stronger still!”

President Nixon mops more sweat off his face, then smiles at you before speaking in a much softer, calmer voice, “But… as the original CEO of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno would say, ‘Let’s stop worrying about all that Administrative nonsense and leave that to the Administrators. Let’s concentrate on what really matters: an all new, extra-special edition of Trade Your Addiction.Gov!’”

Vice President George makes a startling unexpected appearance on your hologrid, saying, “Stay tuned to Trade Your Addiction, dummy, or we’ll send someone to kick your ass!”

You are conflicted about giving up your own addictions. If you had to give up all your addictions, wouldn’t that mean giving up your addiction to watching Trade Your Addiction?

And the larger question remains.

Should you trust your leaders?

You heard a disturbing conspiracy theory recently— that your own National Intelligence Bureau was behind the assassination of Gladys Gladwell, that They manufactured this war, and that They might even be responsible for the death of your personal friend, Cecil B DiGiorno.

Uneasy about this government takeover of your favorite hologig, you power down your hologrid, deciding to go to bed early.

You have just finished gargling and lasering your teeth when you receive the priority summons to your home’s entry.

When you are slow to respond, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before in your entire life: a loud knocking on your front door.

A Year Later, on the Anniversary of Cecil B DiGiorno’s death —

For the first time ever, Trade Your Addiction is preempted for a gig even more special: A Tribute to Marilyn.

Walt Walters and Chet Chatterly will serve tonight as co-hosts for this greatly anticipated event.

Walt begins by informing you that, “A milestone in North American History was reached today, thanks to our wildly successful Old School Connecttube mobile-gigger project. More than half of all North American citizens have now appeared on some version of Trade Your Addiction, the most popular hologig of all time! Fifty-one percent of the population has now seen the light of Marilyn! And tonight, the Nationalized A.I. Development Program, working in tandem with Trade Your Addiction Travelgig Productions.Gov, will take holodupe simulacrums to a whole new zero!”

“That’s right,” says Chet. “Tonight, for the first time since lost time, Marilyn Lives Again!”

Walt explains, “No longer will Marilyn appear solely as a rerun holosim derived from her old films. Tonight the immortal Goddess that we all love becomes fully interactive!”

You find yourself fighting sleep.

There has been unprecedented media hype for this event but you’re just not that interested. You had your fix of Marilyn earlier tonight and are still feeling sated.

As Chet Chatterly rambles on, you doze off in your comfolounger.

In a disturbing dream, Corporate Eternal Overlord of Addiswap Indivisible Developments and your personal friend Cecil B DiGiorno is crying on your shoulder.

“Wake up!”

You wake up, opening your eyes to the Helen of New Troy.

“Pay attention now, cuz, because this is deadly serious,” says the seductive voice of a Siren.

Marilyn Monroe is dressed in her red, white, blue, and gold patriotic best. Her bodice is tight, her skirt is short, and her hair is hidden inside a star-studded top hat. She even wears a cute little facsimile of Uncle Sam Hill's white goatee. She whispers her proclamation in her typically sultry voice. “No longer do we have the luxury of using only robotic forces. Even our adapta-droids are now failing! New techno will always be invented to conquer old techno. We need to face the hard truth.” Marilyn smiles in a way that gives you chills, as she tells you, “What is needed now is the human element.”

As the national anthem begins to play, Marilyn rallies her audience, proclaiming, “If we all band together, we can finally defeat our enemies and put an end to this war! That’s what I want! Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” you shout, jumping to your feet.

"Well, then show me the grizzle you're made of, honey! Stand Tall, Be Brave, Serve Your Country, and make me proud! Get online and enlist!

"Do it now!"

Marilyn points at you, declaring...

👇 "I Want YOU!"

As billions of North American avatars cheer, the most addictive woman in human history winks at you and blows you a kiss.

LIKE and SUBSCRIBE if you'd be so kind. Tips and Pledges are also greatly appreciated! I'm disabled (I have debilitating seizures) and Vocal is currently my only source of income.

Thanks for your readership.

_______________________Bolt ⚡