Budweiser presents: Real American Heroes. –♪ Real American Heroes ♫ –Today we salute you, Mr. Really Bad Toupee Wearer. –♪ Mr. Really Bad Toupee Wearer ♫ –More than any neon sign or exploding scoreboard ever could, your chrome-dome cover says "Hey, guys, look at me." –♪ What could you be thinkin'? ♫ –You think it looks "natural", but it couldn't look phonier if it had a chin-strap. –♪ Couldn't fool a blind man ♫ –Made of space-age fibers, it can repel anything: rain, wind, snow, and especially young women. –♪ I don't think so ♫ –So crack open an ice-cold Budweiser, Mr. Stud In A Rug, then crack open another for that thing on your head. –♪ I don't think it's on straight ♫
Tonight, we will be partaking of a liquid repast as we wend our way up the Golden Mile. Commencing with an inaugural tankard in The First Post, then on to The Old Familiar, The Famous Cock, The Cross Hands, The Good Companions, The Trusty Servant, The Two-Headed Dog, The Mermaid, The Beehive, The King's Head, and The Hole in the Wall for a measure of the same, all before the last bittersweet pint in that most fateful terminus, The World's End. Leave a light on good lady, for though we may return with a twinkle in our eyes, we will be in truth blind... drunk!
OK, I know this is going to disgust you, Michael, but a lot of people are in this business to make money. –You make it out like I'm some flake, George. I am in this business to make money, too. –Really? –Yes! –The Harlem Theatre For The Blind? Strindberg In The Park? The People's Workshop in Syracuse? –OK, now wait a minute. I did nine plays in eight months up in Syracuse. I happened to get great reviews from the New York critics, not that that's why I did it. –Oh, of course not. God forbid you should lose your standing as a cult failure.