Chomsky: The Sitcom, Episode 5: “Everybody Wants To Rule the World”
by John Kendall Hawkins
Very loosely inspired by the memoir, Chomsky and Me (OR Books, 2023) by Bev Boisseau Stohl. Boisseau describes her time as Chomsky’s office manager for 24 years at MIT. Among her multitudinous tasks was setting up interviews with people of every walk and cut of cloth who, seemingly, came by to pick the public philosopher’s brains. This sitcom is meant to be droll tribute to a great voice of reason and wisdom in the perfecting of the Human Project.
The characters in episode 5, in the order they appear, are Noam, Glenn, Bev, G. Gordon Liddy, and Laura. The characters are depicted in a satirical fashion, resembling Larry David caricatures. No attempt is made here to paint accurate pictures of real lives or personalities.
In this episode, Noam is worried about the movement of the Doomsday Clock forward toward The End. His mental tussles with the structures of architecture and boneheaded protesters continue to plague his old age. He begins to worry about ChatGPT and the coming AGI paradigm shift just ahead. Bev and Laura disappear down a rabbit hole. Glenn whines about deep fakes and commuting on the Red Line. Noam gives a speech about the decline of American Idealism in the time of MAGA dogmatists. Mystery Man finds a way to use AI to raise funds to buy Building 20 and has begun evicting people he dislikes.
SCENE 1: INT. NOAM’S BEDROOM, A DREAM
Noam is having a recurring nightmare. The Doomsday Clock is being mischievously placed on the dome of the MIT building, site of so many previous pranks, by bonkers engineering students wanting to send some kind of message. Noam is worried that too little care is being employed in the erection of the clock; he has flashes of Harold Lloyd. Sure enough, as he stares up, one of the engineers mistakenly pushes the minute hand forward to midnight. Noam’s mouth opens in terror and he screams (but no one can hear you in inner space). There is a massive explosion and a whiteout. Noam wakes and sits up in his bed, sweating.
Talking Alarm Clock: Time to wake up, Professor Chomsky. (pause) Time to wake up, Mr. Chomsky. (pause) Time to wake up, Gnome. (pause) Do you know where your time has been today? (pause) Wake up.
CHOMSKY turns the machine off. He sits there looking bewildered for a moment.
CUT to:
SCENE 2: EXT. STATA BUILDING, NOAM LOOKING UP GLUMLY AT THE PUNCHED IN THE FACE STRUCTURE SEEMINGLY MEANT TO OUTDO BRUTALISM
CHOMSKY: What the -- (we hear dogs barking, nearing, coming right at him) -- hey, what’s this? (rubs his eyes, as four mechanical AI-driven dogs from Boston Dynamics come huffing and puffing, straining the leashes that two huge security-looking hulks with sunglasses and shirt labels that say BOSTON DYNAMICS) Morning.
DARKGLASSES 1: (speaking like the melting cop from Terminator 2) Morning, sir. Aren’t you the world-renowned philosopher, Noam Chomsky?
DARKGLASSES 2: Bediddle, bediddle.
CHOMSKY: Well, yes I am. (gestures at DG2) What’s with him.
DARKGLASSES 1: He’s a robot, sir. And these are robot dogs. I’m out taking them all for a walk.
CHOMSKY: (joking) They don’t bite, do they?
DARKGLASSES 1: The dogs don’t, no.
DARKGLASSES 2: Bediddle, bediddle. (dripping what appears to be saliva)
CHOMSKY: What’s with him?
DARKGLASSES 1: We haven’t uploaded his mind yet. He is still at the moron level.
CHOMSKY: Is that contagious? Because I’m seeing --
DARKGLASSES 1: Well, there does seem to be an unnatural brain drain going on everywhere.
While NOAM considers this remark, one of the dogs squats and takes a shit on the grass. It looks like old magnetic tapes or something, now steaming. A dog held by SG2 sniffs at Noam and then takes a pee on his knee; it is machine oil.
DARKGLASSES 1: Sorry about that, sir. (a kind of radio in the head broadcast is heard) Gotta run, sir. Send that bill for the dry cleaners. (the dog arfs, as in in apology or evil humor)
DG2: Bediddle, bediddle
They run off toward the marketplace. NOAM looks back at the Stata and walks toward the entry, the camera freezes for a moment at the punch in the face in front of him.
SCENE 3: INT. STATA BUILDING, GLENN’S OFFICE
Glenn is playing with the gnomes, dollies talking fashion. One gnome is larger than the other. The smaller gnome wears a Che Guevara tshirt. In the faux convo that ensues Che represents the left wing press angry at Noam’s shortcomings. He is playacting the dolls in a psychodrama fashion. Noam looks on quietly as if he were observing respectfully Dibs: In search of himself.
Dialogue of dolls
NOAM GNOME: It’s Mafia Logic. Which is to say, Just Do It is the slogan that prevails. Do It or we send some muscle to enforce.
GLENN THE REPORTER GNOME: Mr. Chomsky, how come you use deepfake videos to spread your gospel on youtube?
NOAM GNOME: You’re a shallowfake, aren’t you?
GLENN THE REPORTER GNOME: It’s just a question. You don’t have to get snippy.
NOAM GNOME: Well, I don’t use YouTube. I’ll ask Bev.
GLENN THE REPORTER GNOME: Mr. Chomsky, I saw it myself. You wouldn’t answer why you wrote that book The Hidden Persuaders.
There is a flash of an early Bob Dylan press conference where a young reporter asks what he meant by his song, “Eve of Destruction”?
NOAM GNOME: You mean Manufactured Consent?
GLENN THE REPORTER GNOME: No, Mr. Chomsky. (angry) I do not.
Noam listens and imagines the Che character at one of his conferences during the q and a. Listening to the carping journo imagined Noam finally gets irked enough that he comes off the screen, ala woody Allen's purple Rose of Cairo, and comes at Che, climbing over the front rows to get at him, and reaching him beats Che over the head with a stuffed gnome that breaks and pours its guts -- littler gnomes.
NOAM GNOME: Young man, you are suffering from a delusion. There’s a doctor I recommend you see, name is: Marty Cohn.
GLENN THE REPORTER GNOME: You just keep hurting me.
Flash of Che in the hospital bedridden on the Bruised Ego ward, with several other hurt souls. Big Bird as a midget. Carrie, the debutante. Dirty Harry, no gun. Nurse Ratchett walking with a wrench.
CHOMSKY doesn't greet GLENN but continues walking to his office where BEV is already setting up his interview. He looks glum.
SCENE 3: INT. STATA BUILDING, NOAM’S OFFICE
CHOMSKY does a double-take at the door of his office as he sees who his guest is this day -- G. GORDON LIDDY. To keep fresh and enjoy the surprise, CHOMSKY has agreed to let BEV set up the interviews as she pleases with whomever she wants. Now he looks as if BEV has crossed the line. He seems to hesitate, as if he might prefer to return to GLENN’s office and listen to him blather.
CHOMSKY: Already, Bev? (he eyeballs LIDDY disapprovingly)
BEV: Hi Noam. Yup, all set. This is Mr. Liddy. Have you two met before?
CHOMSKY: Hello G.
LIDDY: Noam.
CHOMSKY: (whispering to Bev) You couldn’t find another dead guy? First Turd Blossom, now him. Why all the evil, Bev? (to LIDDY) You’re looking healthy for a dead guy.
LIDDY: Enhanced holography and the latest ChatGPT.
BEV: Gordon couldn’t look better if he were an embalmed Egyptian cat.
CHOMSKY: Well, let’s get on with it. (sits down at his desk and stares at the hologram gloomily)
LIDDY: I understand that you hate AI. You turning into a Luddite in your old age?
CHOMSKY: No. Not a Luddite, but keeping tabs on the abuses as they will inevitably mount up. I take it you favor the high wire act of artificial intelligence?
LIDDY: Oh, man, if only we had this gadgetry in the good ol’ days of dirty tricks.
CHOMSKY: What might have you used it for?
LIDDY: It would have changed the way I approached Nacht und Nebel.
CHOMSKY: How so? Wait, Nacht und Nebel -- wasn’t that your plan to kidnap dissidents and Nixon enemies and bring them down to Mexico --
LIDDY: -- Correcto --
CHOMSKY: -- and have them killed --
LIDDY: We rolled the idea over.
CHOMKY: I understand that you told Mitchell that , I quote, adjust a few pesos buys a lot of shallow graves down there, end quote.
LIDDY: Absolutamente! Still does! Meh-hico is a solid trading partner for the deep state.
CHOMSKY: So, what would you do today, you were saying, with the latest fun gadgets?
LIDDY: We could still bring them to Meh-hico. But I would tell the president to let me have a warehouse where I can fit them with implants or BCI. Of course, we have a bespoke database for each of the lefty cretins. So, we could lock them inside their own brain and have them interact with a ChatGPT that knows all about their lives -- personal, deeply personal, and compromising to the core. And just fuck with them all day -- for as long as it takes.
CHOMSKY: As long as what takes?
LIDDY: It. Can’t say more or I’d have to kidnap you.
CHOMSKY: Was I on your list, along with Abbie?
LIDDY: (laughing) God no. We could tell you would point to the inside men. You talk the macro. We laugh. We go fuck-a-doodle-doo in the dark while you climb on noble wings toward the sun. Laugh every time you talk about ‘manufactured consent.’
BEV: Gordon, as usual you are melodramatic. White House plumber? You couldn’t plunge the depths of Noam’s toilet bowl.
LIDDY: You admit, though, that his toilet bowl has depth. (wears a shit-eating grin)
BEV: Did you really stupidly set a rat trap in your prison cell and get caught by it yourself?
CHOMSKY: Hoisted on his own petard.
LIDDY: Says the guy who won’t say it was an inside job. (smirks, like he just hit a wall ball off the Green Monster)
BEV: Okay, that’s enough.
LIDDY: Wait. I propose a series of debates with Noam on college campuses.
BEV: What, like with Abbie?
LIDDY: Yeah. In fact, is his holograph around? Could be fun talkin’ to Mr Street Theatre again.
BEV: No thanks. (clicks off the holograph) Sorry Noam.
CHOMSKY: Well, Ali G is one thing, but can you try to leave the hoodlums off the interview list?
BEV: Sure. (smiles) I’ll go get you some coffee.
CHOMSKY: The device is off, right? He won’t suddenly leap back to life and drag me down to Meh-hico, will he?
BEV: Off.
BEV leaves the office. CHOMSKY sits there at his desk. His look: He’s not liking the 21st century.
cut to -
SCENE 4: INT. THE WURSTHAUS RESTAURANT, HARVARD SQUARE
BEV and LAURA are eating a late lunch, jawing.
BEV: So the thing is, it keeps happening when I least expect it. I’m talking normally, then suddenly I’m all word salad or something.
LAURA munches loudly on her side salad with Russian dressing. BEV gives her a look.
LAURA: I’ve been giving it some thought. (she pulls a book out of her satchel -- Lewis Caroll’s Through the Looking Glass, turned to “Jabberwocky”) Lewis Carroll.
BEV: Through the Looking Glass?
LAURA: Yeah. We have tried a few things now. CBT doesn't get us there.
BEV: There?
LAURA: You’ll see. I hope. No harm in trying, right?
BEV: What do you have in mind?
LAURA: Let’s read Jabberwocky together.
BEV: How will that help?
LAURA: Can I try some of your Black Forest cake? (Bev gestures affirmatively) So, we read the poem, stanza by stanza. I’ll start, then you go -- reading it backwards, then I go reading it backwards, then you reverse my read and I read the next stanza properly, and then your read, etcetera. By the end you should be cured.
BEV: You are kidding, right?
LAURA: Not at all. It’s part of some research I’m doing with dyslexia.
BEV: Lysdexia?
LAURA: Funny. Not. My paper’s in peer review.
BEV: For Jabberwocky? (gestures toward LAURA’s aromatic gingerbread; LAURA assents; BEV sticks a fork in)
LAURA: Most of it’s Jabberwocky.
BEV: (to the passing waiter) Can I have my schnitzel doggy-bagged?
WAITER: Sure.
LAURA: There was only a little left of the schnitzel.
BEV: Oh, I know, but Glenn will eat it. He’s always wanted to come here but can’t afford to. I throw him a bone once in a while.
LAURA: Thoughtful.
BEV: Have my moments. Although today was not a highlight reel.
LAURA: (puts book down) Oh?
BEV: I made him interview G. Gordon Liddy.
LAURA: The Nixon White House plumber? Thought he was dead. (stabs at more of BEV’s cake)
BEV: A holographer dropped in. Had a database. Coulda been someone else Noam talked with. I thought contentious would be a nice break. Galileo came to mind.
LAURA: Hmph. Ready? (pause followed by LAURA reading Jabberwocky)
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
BEV:
Outgrabe raths mome the and
Borogives the were mimsy all
wabe the in gimbal and gyre did,
toves slithy the and, trove brillig ‘twas.
LAURA: (faster)
Outgrabe raths mome the and
Borogives the were mimsy all
wabe the in gimbal and gyre did,
toves slithy the and, trove brillig ‘twas.
BEV: (panicking, the trick isn’t working)
Outgrabe raths mome the and
Borogives the were mimsy all
shitticus wabe gimbal gyre did,
toves slithy Laura!, trove brillig ‘twas.
LAURA:
Yo, it was a funky time, and the sly toves
Were twistin’ and turnin’ in the groove;
All wild and wacky were the borogoves,
And the mome raths were makin’ their move.
BEV: Damn, girl, fo shizzle my nizzle
The waiter places the doggybag on the table, smiling at first at their wordplay, but sees their anxiety and moves off quickly. BEV and LAURA see the waiter’s look and splash some cash on the table and get up to leave.
BEV: Hot damn, cadillac, this shit’s some sizzle! (they head for the door)
LAURA: Mighty cardiac pristine feather drizzle. (they exit, worried, like they stuck down the rabbit hole)
cut to-
SCENE 5: INT. KRESGE AUDITORIUM, MIT
CHOMSKY is giving a TED Talk about American foreign policy in support of his recently published latest work, The Myth of American Idealism. It’s the usual, but important, Empire Is Bad for the world shtick we have all come to love for its courage -- and loathe because we never do anything about what he’s talking about. Critique porn. Self-abnegation as an art form. There is a Z Gen youngster in the crowd wearing a Che t-shirt being harassed by more hip baby boomers and he is finally dragged from the scene forcibly with little fanfare. When he tries to call out, one of the boomers walks up to him and knees him in the gongos and prevents him from crying out. Merchandise is being worn: caps, summer scarfs, purloining gloves, deep state sunglasses….CHOMSKY looks out as if at a freshly landed mob of aliens coming to see what all the hullabaloo was about.
CHOMSKY: Well, it’s getting late for the Empire. I was reading just yesterday that since the first inauguration of Donald Trump in 2017 the Doomsday Clock has gone from two-and-a-half minutes down to 89 seconds. He’s only been in office 6 months and we see he has thrown in the towel on climate mitigation. In fact, he and the fossil fuel industry are looking for new revenue streams up in the now-thawing tundra of the Arctic Circle. Trump has essentially threatened Putin with nuclear catastrophe, and his being in office at all, after being twice impeached and found guilty on 34 felony charges, tells us that democracy is at an end. The press goes back to hating him full time. Ineffectually.
HECKLER 1: It was an inside job! Say it Noam!
CHOMSKY: Last time Trump was in, it took a couple of years for catastrophe to hit in the form of Covid-19 that spread across an under-prepared America in 2020, a re-election year. Despite the total ineptitude of the president in dealing with the pandemic, he was nearly re-elected, close enough counts in five states to require recounts. It’s a real question whether we will get through the second Trump term. What pandemic awaits us? This is absurd. It’s getting late for the Empire.
HECKLER 2: Noam, tell us about how Trump lied about the pandemic origins.
CHOMSKY: Well, I’m here today to talk about my new book that I wrote with Nathan Robinson, editor-in-chief of the left-wing progressive Current Affairs. Only time for a quick overview. Quick questions. Book signing.
HECKLER 4: (wearing a MAGA cap) Nathan Robinson is a loser.
CHOMSKY: The Empire is finished. The Idealism that was stoked and stirred to a roaring fire is now guttering, the embers dying. Lot of roar while it lasted. The roar of hegemony. But it was always little more than a Burning Man act that has now been diminished to a barrel fire along the tracks warming the hands of old hippies still smitten with the faith.
HECKLER 5: Aw, Jesus, why don’t you say something about the origins of what’s happening in Gaza. Jesus, Noam! You’re our public philosopher.
CHOMSKY: Empires come and go.
HECKLER 6: You go!
CHOMSKY: Sometimes they collapse from overextension. Sometimes from inbreeding. And we discover over time that the political class is full of inbreeding which decays the core over time until there is little left of virtue but apes in heat eating over-ripe bananas.
HECKLER 7: You’re the banana around here. (stand and wears a dramatic frown)
CHOMSKY: We are losing our religion, as the band says. China and Russia won’t budge. We can’t stop BRICS. War looks inevitable. There’s growing panic over the tariffs, which are little more than taxes on the American people who will pay them. Idealism looks banged up, like a Frank Gehry building.
HECKLER 8: Tell us about artificial general intelligence and how the elite are stealing it for themselves, Noam!
CHOMSKY: Well, AI surpassed most human intelligence decades ago. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the twin lobes of the human mind soon fell in freefall.
HECKLER 9: That’s not funny Noam!
HECKLER 10: You suck, Chomsky!
HECKLER 11: Get him. Let’s go, Joe!
Flotsam and jetsam fly through the sky, CHOMSKY ducks, eases his way off the stage.
CHOMSKY: Send your book to me and I will sign it for you.
HECKLER 12: Sign this! (a copy of his new book comes flying past his head)
The crowd turns on itself. Punches are thrown. Groans. Nut crackings. Half-nellies. Knuckle dustings. LGBTQA+ contingencies squirting water guns filled with aphrodisiac and LSD to quell the crown. CHOMSKY slips away.
cut to-
Image of the CBS 60 Minutes stopwatch ticking.
Fade out.
End.
#####
Purchase at OR Books. Follow Bev’s Reddit updates of Chomsky’s current status.