[Curtain rises, Louis sits alone on a spotlit bench]
L.P. I am the LBO voice of Marxist-Leninist-Trotskyist-indigenist thought. I bear the wisdom of Ward Churchill, its greatest interpreter, on my Web page! How dare you criticize him?! He writes for Z magazine!
Small voice from above: Who criticized him?
L.P. This swine sent me vicious e-mails! Here, read them! See the outrageous things he wrote about my hero! He's worse than Cockburn! No, I mean Cockburn is worse, but he's more dangerous! No, I mean, he's a harmless pipsqueak who thinks he's tough! Read! Read! Doesn't he know who he's talking to?! I'll show him! He hasn't heard the last of this!
[murky voice from the shadows]
K.L. I know Ward; I have worked with him on many issues. . .
L.P. Arrogant name dropper! I know some names too! I'll put them on the Web!
K.L. . . . and Z magazine stinks.
L.P. Z magazine? That awful rag! Can't you take a joke? I'm Woody Allen, for Christ's sake!
[Chorus sings "That Trotskyite Mammy of Mine" as the curtain descends.]