Not Fade Away

This is a test.

For the next 60 seconds,

this station will conduct

a test of the

Emergency Broadcast System.

This is only a test.

- Is that you?

- Hey.

Long time, huh?

Still selling ice creams

off your bicycle?

Bollocks.

American R&B?

Did you...

Did you nick them all?

I sent off to Chicago.

You know, mail order?

I play that Little Queenie.

Still wearing out the stylus

on your mum's Philips, Keith?

F*ck, Mick.

I don't play it on the f*cking hi-fi.

I got me a Rosetti steel-string.

DeArmond pickup.

Nice. I've been singing

a bit myself recently.

With ol' Dick Taylor.

Is that right?

You go for Jimmy Reed?

"Baby, What You Want Me To Do."

Yeah. Yeah.

I love that song.

This meeting took place

some 20 years after

the bombing of London

and the end

of World War II.

We know what happened

to those two boys.

They became

The Rolling Stones.

A couple years after that meeting

on the train,

my brother and his friends

also started a band.

Not so many people know

what became of them.

In fact, like with most bands,

you've never heard of them.

Those black diamond Rogers

are cooler than shit.

Swiv-O-Matic hardware.

This f*cking guy I know

goes to Hancock Regional?

He has a 6118.

That's where I f*cking go.

I f*cking go to

Delbarton Academy.

F*cking eats shit.

I'm f*cking transferring

to Hancock senior year.

What's your friend's name?

Gene Gaunt.

F*ck, I know him!

He's like one of my

best friends this year!

Him and me are in a band.

With Billy Schindewulf on drums.

Gaunt's double picking!

They're clapping on the on-beat.

Fags.

Preceding the hearse,

a 13-man Marine Honor Guard,

their bayonets glinting in the glare

of camera lights.

Not going to work today, Dad?

Carmine and me are deciding whether

to open the store.

Lots of businesses are closed.

Good. I'm happy for them.

They're so rich.

I saw my sister Louise

at the Celentano wake.

She started right in.

How I should find Ma a new doctor.

Mrs. Kennedy rode

with her arm stretched across the coffin.

She was wearing

the same pink suit

that was spattered with blood

when the President was shot.

Had one of your

nightmares last night.

What the hell were you

hollering about this time?

This colored boy was trying

to come up the lawn to get me.

The kids in schools in the south

stood up and cheered

when he got assassinated.

Don't believe everything

you hear.

No, you're right.

Let's believe

"The heartbreak of psoriasis"

and all those other commercials

you sell airtime for.

Buick and those jerks.

The men who had

the genius and the daring

to develop the Dynaflow

transmission... Kenneth.

...are jerks.

I'm going to volunteer

to go down there.

That's a crafty dodge from your

plunging grade point average.

How's the bird?

Happy Thanksgiving, Mother.

I think we got a bongo-drum

playing beatnik in our midst.

Stop it, you little fag!

You're a fag!

Stop toying with your

yams and sit up.

The Southerners cheered

because President Kennedy

wanted to pass voting laws

for colored people.

Exactly, Gracie.

That is the precise reason

JFK went and garnered

such animus for himself

down in Dixieland.

Garnered such what?

Look it up,

Mrs. Allen Ginsberg.

Clocks are made by men.

God creates time.

No man can prolong

his allotted hours.

He can only live

them to the fullest

in this world or in

the Twilight Zone.

You can give this program

back to the Indians,

as far as I'm concerned.

- It's cool.

-Now, Mr. Serling.

Next time, we enlist the aid

of a very talented scribe...

There is a fifth dimension

beyond that known to man,

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