Transcipt of “Brady Kids for Kamala” Zoom Call
Tens of thousands joined a virtual meeting this week dubbed “White Dudes for Harris” to drum up excitement for Vice President Kamala Harris’ election bid. The online rally follows other calls that convened White women, Black men and Black women. Lost in the huge participation numbers of those events was a smaller gathering: “Brady Kids for Brat (Kamala).”
A Zoom call begins as one by one faces populate a 3x3 grid of boxes. Greg, Peter, Marcia, Jan Brady appear in their familiar spots and reflexively move their head about to look in the various directions of each other. The remaining slots remain dark.
Greg: This is far out.
Marcia: How long has it been? Oh wow, it’s even real Jan, not that weirdo fake girl.
Jan: Hi. I have a boyfriend!
Marcia: Sure you do, Jan.
Jan: Why does nobody ever believe me? He’s my fiancé actually. You’re looking at the future Mrs. Jan Glass.
Greg: We’re all happy for you and I bet the love and actual heterosexual passion you two share is the same as mom and dad’s.
All: Awwwwww
Greg: You know, hearing that reminds me of one of my showstoppping numbers as the title lead from the U.S. touring company of “Pippin.” It goes a little something like this —
Peter: Greg, could we maybe move this along. I have a tee time.
Jan: Yes. I too am very busy. George Glass, that’s my fiancé, is taking me to the sporting event at the stadium arena in our SUV car.
Greg: Fine. Let’s get to the reason for this pow-wow then. All of these groups are getting the grooviest press attention for holding calls about getting Kamala Harris elected president. The stakes are too high to let this moment pass. We can get the Bradys back in the public eye! Oh, and help elect Kamala.
Bobby Brady appears in the lower right box.
Bobby: She’s a dumb as a rock Marxist cat lady! Greetings from the Villages!
Marcia: Oh no.
Jan: Greg! You promised!
Greg: Bobby, how did you get the dial-in info? I assumed you would be busy with your January 6 “issues”?
Bobby: Nope. Charges dropped thanks to the wise men of the Supreme Court.
Marcia: There are women on the Court too.
Bobby: Ha! Right. Anyway, it turns out that freedom loving Americans are allowed to visit our nation’s Capitol Building afterall.
Jan: You had bear spray and nunchuks!
Bobby: DC is a Dem run crime haven. I was just ready to self-defend and keep the election from being stolen. You’re welcome by the way
Greg: Anyway, it turns out Cindy has already been working on the Harris campaign and is out doing something they call canvassing. She offered to teach us about ways we can help So, live from Louisiana, here’s our baby sis!
Greg clicks keyboard with panache revealing a wide-eyed Cindy staring wide-eyed from the lower left box.
Greg: Cindy? We see you. Go ahead.
Nothing.
Jan: Did her screen freeze?
Peter: No, look. You can see people walking behind her and the flags on that big domed building are waving.
Bobby: (cackling) OMG. No way. She is choking again.
Greg: Cindy, how about you just tell us where you are?
Her stare somehow becomes even more vacant.
Bobby: Hahahahaha. Classic.
Marcia: That appears to be a state capitol building behind her. If she is in Louisiana that would be Baton Rouge
Peter: Her t-shirt says LSU. Louisiana State University! That’s in Baton Rouge. They’re called the Tigers.
Greg: Very impressive, Peter.
Marcia: (sighs & rolls eyes) Come on Cindy. You can do it. Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge.
Bobby: I don’t get this family. Get on the Trump train.
Marcia: And I don’t get how you can support that man after what he did to Mom!
Greg: Marcia! Ixnay on the ling-fay.
Jan: Wait. What have you two been hiding?
Marcia: Enough family secrets. Look, Mom had a little thing with Trump, okay? He was dangling a spot on “Celebrity Apprentice” and a monthly weeknight cabaret show at the Trump Taj Mahal and, at the time, her phone wasn’t exactly ringing off the hook with offers. So apparently they, um, shared a room service meal. Well, meals if you count the continental breakfast.
Jan: No!
Bobby: Mom got “Stormy’d”? Come on. This is the best call ever. If she was still around she would so be on Team MAGA. She would have loved JD’s plan to have Alice pay more taxes on account that she’s too busy giving the milk away for free to Sam to raise a proper family.
Jan: Eiuw. Stop! And Alice is dead Bobby.
Bobby: Oh, right.
With the mention of their former housekeeper Alice, the center box signals an incoming connection. All hold their breath until the face of Catwoman appears.
Catwoman: (purring) Grrrrreetings. Am I tarrrrrdy for the gatherrrrring?
Greg: Well, hello gorgeous. What brings a knockout chick like you to a call like this?
Catwoman: Chick? I am pure feline. Hold on, is this not the Cat Ladies for Kamala Zoom?
Greg: No, this is Brady Kids for Brat (Kamala). I’m Greg.
Catwoman: (rolls eyes) Oh, purrrrfect.
She hisses and disconnects.
Bobby: Good riddance. She was no MTG.
Jan: Oh my gosh Bobby. It’s always “Marjorie! Marjorie! Marjorie!” with you.
Greg: So, I’ve been trying to freshen up the lyrics to “Time to Change” to make it a campaign ditty. Maybe we could finally put out that Silver Platters follow-up single. Our fans would eat that up. Thinking something like (singing) “Obama turns to Biden. Biden to Kamala!”
Uncomfortable silence.
Greg: Or maybe we could all announce that a percentage of our Cameo fees will go to the campaign?
Bobby: Or in Marcia’s case, her OnlyFans.
Marcia: Incel!
Bobby: Volcel! I’m voluntary celibate. How many times do I have to tell you people?
The others try to suppress giggles.
Marcia: Sure Bobby. Well, I made up a cheer!
Marcia stands and uses her arms to spell along as she chants:
Marcia: K-K-KAM M-M-MAL L-L-LMA H-A-R-I-S!
Silence.
Jan: Isn’t Harris is spelled with two Rs?
Marcia: I hate you all!
Suddenly a trench coat-sporting Andrew McCarthy appears in the bottom middle box.
Peter: (squinting) Is that the guy from Mannequin?
Andrew: Hey, yeah. It’s me — actor, writer and director Andrew McCarthy. I’m making an extended director’s cut version of my documentary and heard that you all were talking about the whole brat thing. Now,one at a time, if you could just look into the camera of my iPhone here and share how it was really mean and unfair of that writer from the New Yorker to call me and my castmates “the Brat Pack” 40 years. Feel free to note that it’s totally normal not at all weirdly obsessive for me to still be talking about it.
Greg: Okay, I think we’re done here.
All boxes go dark except for Cindy’s.
Cindy: Baton Rouge!
