Pump Up the Volume

You ever get the feeling

that everything in America...

is completely f***ed up?

You know that feeling?

The whole country is one inch

away from saying...

"That's it! Forget it!"

Think about it.

Everything's polluted--

the environment, the government,

the schools-- you name it.

Speaking of schools...

I was walking the hallowed halls

the other day...

and I asked myself...

"Is there life

after high school...

"because I can't face

tomorrow...

"let alone a whole year

of this sh*t."

Yeah, you got it, folks.

It's me again

with a little attitude...

for all you out here

in white-bread land...

all you nice people...

livin' in the middle

of America the beautiful.

Let's see, we're on 92 FM...

and it feels like a nice,

clean little band so far.

No one else is using it

and the price is right.

And, yes, folks, you guessed it.

Tonight, I'm as horny

as a ten-peckered owl...

so stay tuned

because this is Hard Harry...

reminding you to eat

your cereal with a fork...

and do your homework

in the dark.

Hey! Gimme that.

Hey, man, let me see that.

Give it on over here.

He played Ice-T on this tape.

Great. Plays Ice- and talks about his dick.

Nah, man.

Ice-T shreds on this.

I heard it last night.

Mr. Chavez? Luis Chavez?

Yes, just for a second.

All right, so I'll pick you up

after yearbook?

OK, Dad.

And no big dates tonight.

Be well-rested

for your history exam tomorrow.

- OK.

- Yo, Paige!

Any time, anywhere, beautiful.

Mr. Paige.

Miss Paige Woodward arriveth.

So rich, so smart...

So perfect.

Cheryl, good to see you.

Gonna see the principal

this morning, huh?

Mr. Murdock, can you tell me

what this is about?

We'll see.

Excuse me, Mrs. Creswood.

Check this out.

What is it?

It's this guy.

He's got a pirate

radio station on the air.

His name is

"Happy Harry Hard-on."

He's a total sex maniac.

Of course.

He comes on every night

at 10:
00.

Down to business.

I got my Wild Cherry

Diet Pepsi...

and I got my Blackjack gum here.

And I got that feeling.

Yeah, that familiar feeling...

that something rank

is going down out there.

Yeah, I can smell it.

I can almost taste it--

the rankness in the air.

It's everywhere.

It's running through

that old pipeline out there...

trickling along

that dumb concrete river...

and coming up

through the drains...

of those lovely tract homes

we all live in.

So who is he?

He goes to Humphrey.

I mean, I don't know.

Everywhere I look,

it seems everything is sold-out.

They say this is where

the reception is the coolest.

Then he probably lives

right around here.

F***in' yuppies.

My dad sold out...

and my mom sold out years ago

when she had me.

And then they sold me out...

when they brought me

to this hole in the world.

Hey, they made me

everything I am today...

so, naturally,

I hate the bastards.

Speaking of which...

I'm running a contest...

on the best way to put them

out of their miseries.

Tonight,

we have number twelve...

of one hundred things

to do with your body...

when you're all alone.

Now, are you ready

for the incredible sound...

of Hard Harry

coming on his own face?

Oh, my God.

It's very possible, you know?

Are you listening to this?

Yeah, of course I'm listening.

Guy's gotta have hair

coming out of his palms.

This is a champion one.

Oh. There. Yeah.

Are you listening?

- Yeah, I'm going blind.

- He's doing it.

So unreal.

Oh, my God.

This...

Yes, Hard Harry

will go to any length to keep...

his three listeners glued

with ooey blooey to the radios.

But the question is,

how far will you go?

I mean, how far can you go...

to amaze and disgust

the insatiable Hard Harry, huh?

I mean, how serious are you?

Hi, beautiful.

You know

what I can't figure out?

How you manage

to get such great grades...

and you listen to that radio

all night, you know?

Tomorrow, don't forget--

Yale interview.

And I don't want you

to look too sleepy, you know?

Good night, sweetie.

Got a lot of letters

here, guys.

Here. "Dear Hard Harry...

"my boyfriend

won't talk to me anymore.

"How do I show him

that I really love him?"

Look, I don't know anything...

about these letters

asking for love advice.

lf I knew anything about love...

I would be out there

making it...

instead of sitting in here

talking to you guys.

No. Just send me stuff

at Box 2710...

U.S.A. Mail, Paradise Hills,

Arizona, 84012.

Reply is guaranteed.

"Dear Harry...

"I think you're boring

and obnoxious...

"and have a high opinion

of yourself."

Of course, some of you

are probably thinking...

I sent this from myself.

"I think school is OK

if you just look at it right.

"I mean, I like your music...

"but I really

just don't see why...

"you can't be cheerful

for one second."

I'll tell you, since you asked.

I just arrived

in this stupid suburb.

I have no friends...

no money...

no car...

no license.

And even if I did

have a license...

all I could do is drive out

to some stupid mall.

Maybe if I'm lucky...

play some f***in' video games,

smoke a joint, and get stupid.

You see,

there's nothing to do anymore.

Everything decent's been done.

All the great themes

have been used up...

turned into theme parks.

So I don't really find it

exactly cheerful...

to be living in the middle of

a totally exhausted decade...

where's there's nothing

to look forward to...

and no one to look up to.

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