[standing at the corner of 20th and S Streets NW, our two heroes watch as a couch flies through a third-story window onto the District of Columbia streets below.]
William Howard Taft: I must confess to being confused at this inebriated hive of activity.
James Madison: What confuses you by this?
[a post-op transsexual exits the house screaming at a man wearing a USMC T-shirt and a cowboy hat.]
Taft: Why are these adults acting like this? When I was 22, three of my children had already died of dysentery and I had fought in two wars. These people struggle to tie their own shoes without finding themselves with child afterwards.
Madison: My expansive friend, this is what passes as entertainment for children of the 21 century. A company recruits volunteers among unemployed, intellectually deficient, emotionally-stunted young people to live each other and exchange bodily fluids. This year, they’ve decided to capture this images on film here in the Federal City.
[two male homosexuals fornicate in the street as Washington Wizards guard Gilbert Arenas self-propels past on a razor scooter and stares.]
Taft: What crimes were committed in this city to earn such a cruel punishment?
Madison: …
Taft: Ah, right. I retract my previous question. Yet still, the residents of this street have likely not committed 95 percent of those sins. This is a disproportionate response, tiny dancer.
Madison: On this, we agree. They are keeping it real.
[a mustached Italian plumber in red overalls is chased off the street into the house abuzz with activity by anthropomorphic mushrooms.]
Madison: Or maybe not.
Taft: Indeed. Yahtzee?
Madison: Yes, please.
[the Bat Signal shines from the roof of the Real World house.]
Taft: That is not good for anybody.
