#monkees brain took over for a minute i guess

[bigfeelingsdyke]

actually hang on i just remembered i have a bunch of edits from "the mountain men" episode of laramie in my drafts

[razanartuk]

about me tag game thing

i was tagged by the wonderful @nothingunrealistic! thank you very much ily <3

under read more bc i was not capable of keeping my answers brief this time around

why did you choose your url?

this...was supposed to be a short explanation but it turned into quite a tale so strap in i guess because we are going on a ride. back in 2017 i was just getting into musical theatre rp and i was still feeling too shy to really talk to anyone ooc so i would just wait for people i wanted to interact with to post starter calls so i could just do things in character with them the easy way. So i did this with my friend cam, who posted a starter for me using a lyric from If I Could Tell Her. she linked the song so i could listen to it, so i did and i went ‘wait a minute, is that Ben Platt from Pitch Perfect?? (and other things too, but i only recognized his voice at the time bc of the acappella girl movies)’ and yes it certainly was.

i had zero idea what the plot of Dear Evan Hansen was about at that point, and for some reason based off Just That One Song and the poster art of who i assumed was Some Guy in a Polo Shirt i started to think it was about some jock guy who broke his arm and had an emo/goth friend who had either died or gone missing under mysterious circumstances. also i intuited that Evan had a crush on his friend’s sister but he couldn’t tell her that directly or his emo friend would kick his ass. so i was like mostly wrong, but a little bit right.

oh and i knew jared and alana were characters from the show bc cam said that they were i think?? but i had no idea what their role was. so after listening to if i could tell her, i listened to good for you and all i really got out of that was that evan the apparently not-jock guy had done...something... that really hurt jared and alana. and at that point i finally decided to go look up a plot synopsis and i found out i was waaay off base. but honestly this is why cast recordings should include scene dialogue in the songs bc otherwise you just get soundtracks like dear evan hansen where the songs have like. zero context. we really just go from waving through a window to for forever to sincerely me without like. any reason as to what is happening huh. It’s honestly not a surprise anymore that all those people on twitter had no idea the plot isn’t about gay teenagers.

anyways. cam was writing jared and she made a post at one point about wishing somebody would write alana and i was like ‘oh i could do that!’ (after i had actually Seen a bootleg and finally knew what the whole story was, of course) so i made a multimuse rp blog featuring alana beck, nabulungi hatimbi, chloe valentine and some other characters, and cam started sharing her headcanons with me that alana is trans, jared and alana were close friends when they were little kids but they sort of drifted apart as they got older and their priorities in life changed, jared was the first person alana came out to when she realized she’s trans, etc.

one night i started talking about wanting to pick a more theatre-relevant url for my blog and trans-[character name] urls were getting pretty popular, and at least 3 of the friends i made through rp had changed theirs to coordinating trans-[character name] and i think it was cam suggested i should make mine be trans-alana so i did. eventually i realized the unhyphenated version was available so i changed it to transalana with no hyphen and i have lived here ever since. sometimes i think about changing it but i feel like transalana has become a part of My Brand and i am not so great with coming up with cool names for things.

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

in theory, i have sideblogs... i don’t really use them, but of the ones i do have, there is:

emsbookblog - this was supposed to be where i would post excerpts of the book that i’m working on, but i think i did that maybe one time roughly 2 years ago and then promptly forgot about it/got nervous about my writing and was scared to share anything else. the rest of the stuff that is there is assorted writing tips. i don’t really know what to do with it now. i probably should post all my little thoughts about em and anita and caleb there instead of infodumping on my main from time to time, but if i do that then i have to promo a sideblog and direct people over to it which is always annoying to me when i could just do it on this blog which is much easier

dearnovelhansen - this is basically no longer used, but was a sideblog i made specifically to talk/complain about the novel adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen which was about 3 years ago?? maybe? i can’t be trusted to understand the passage of time. but to summarize: i thought it was an honor just to have the story be made more accessible since many of us couldn’t see the stage performance, but i hated a lot of the creative liberties that were taken. my main grumbles are that everyone who isn’t evan or connor is done so dirty in the novel. connor’s still kind of done dirty in the book, but not as much as like. heidi, alana, jared, and zoe are.

horseisle3 - this one was meant to be a place where i could just enthusiastically post screenshots from hi3, but instead it turned into a blog where i occasionally reblog other players’ hi3 content and bitch about how bad the game admins are bc hi3 is the tumblr famous (infamous?) homophobic horse game. the game where it was once okay to call your club store the gulag bc according to their head of hr, ‘it’s just a russian word for prison’ but you can’t say ‘im gay’ without somebody accusing you of corrupting young children who play the game. unfortunately there aren’t very many good interactive horse games out there, so this one is still about as good as it gets. it’s either that or star stable and i don’t care about star stable.

mlaenie - i’ve had this url saved for i don’t even know how long. way way way back in the day when i wanted to escape from the clutches of the onceler fandom i abandoned my first blog where i basically had an alter ego i guess?? and i decided to just be myself on the new blog. i don’t fully remember who came up with it, but one of my sister’s mutuals suggested that if you scrambled the letters in your name you could come up with aesthetic-looking urls. so lauren’s url became lrauen, and to match with her mine became mlaenie, which i abandoned on tumblr after about a year or so? but have continued to use as my main username on twitter, reddit, youtube, xbox, steam, and discord. i barely ever use any of these accounts aside from twitter, steam, and xbox, but yeah. so i’ve decided to try and turn this empty sideblog into a place for video game thoughts maybe. we’ll see how long it lasts this time around.

how long have you been on tumblr?

i made my first tumblr account in december of 2010, but i didn’t understand how to use it at all or how to customize my theme to look cool and unique so i quickly abandoned it. i made a new account in september of 2011 after some kids at school and my sister told me i should and i have been trapped here with varying degrees of activity/inactivity ever since. i have witnessed the rise and fall of the lorax/onceler fandom, hyperfocused on lord of the rings, star wars and back to the future all at the same time, and for the past 4 years i’ve mostly been a musical theatre blog with assorted other fandom stuff mixed in. i feel i have seen everything and nothing, but mostly i’m just tired and bored.

do you have a queue tag?

no bc i don’t use a queue. i’ve tried using it in the past but i irrationally feel pressured to sustain a coherent theme to queued posts and my brain simply does not vibe with that so i just don’t use it at all anymore. Instead i instantly reblog or post several unrelated thoughts in succession and then don’t post again at all for 3 days. the way god intended

why did you start your blog in the first place?

my very first blog was intended to be a place for me to post all of my petz 5 animals’ profile info, but i didn’t have any understanding of how coding worked at all and i don’t think i really wanted to learn, either. so it just sat there, unused. my second attempt at blogging was as a classic rock fandom person, so as you can probably imagine i was pretty pretentious about ‘modern pop’ vs the beatles, the rolling stones, the who, the monkees, and so on. and then i slowly devolved into a lorax fandom blog and everything went to shit so i made a new blog for lord of the rings/the hobbit which later evolved to include star wars and back to the future blogging. and then for the past 4 years i’ve been mainly a musical theatre blog with other random stuff i like thrown haphazardly into the pot. wonderful.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

because my url is transalana and two of my most prominent lgbt headcanons are that alana beck is trans and a lesbian. i gotta be shouting out @kinqmike though bc she’s the one i adopted the trans alana beck headcanon from in the first place!

why did you choose your header?

in 2017 i was hyperfixating on Dear Evan Hansen (and Be More Chill, but there weren’t many gif-able videos then considering it ran for a month in New Jersey in 2015 and there was only one yet-to-resurface 35 minute bootleg) so i just grabbed a random gif off of google. i really should get to replacing it with a new header of my own though. i just don’t know what i should do for it.

what’s your post with the most notes?

i have lost track of how many notes it has (i think it’s somewhere around 200 now?) but when Will Roland and George Salazar performed Two Player Game on Good Morning America, i posted a screencap of their Jeremy and Michael along with that one quiz answer meme that says stuff like ‘i want to see it grow up healthy’. i didn’t tag it with any ship names or anything because i was anxious about having it show up in the tags, but somebody who reblogged it from me did tag it as boyf riends and i firmly believe it took off because of that. i don’t think i make posts that are relevant enough to amass thousands of notes, even by accident. which is probably a good thing bc if i did i would have to block so many of them.

how many followers do you have?

on this blog? 175 according to the counter. how many of those are still real people and how many are bots and abandoned accounts? i have no idea.

how many people do you follow?

i try to keep it somewhere around 200. i think i’m sitting at 180 right now but i kind of need to go through and clear out the really inactive blogs.

have you made a shitpost?

let’s think about this for a second. i’ve been on tumblr for nearly 10 years. you might even be able to say i’ve made more than one. they’re just not what you would call...popular shitposts.

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

that stuff makes me so incredibly anxious that i have to fight the urge to want to yeet my laptop or mobile device through the closest window whenever i read it, so i try very hard to avoid any sort of ‘if you don’t reblog this, i’m judging you’ posts. i find them very manipulative and not particularly helpful

do you like tag games?

yeah babey!! i just frequently forget to do them, but please know that if you have ever tagged me in a tag game i felt incredibly touched by the gesture and the @mention even if i completely forgot to do the thing afterward

do you like ask games?

i do! but also rip to literally anyone who has ever sent me an ask meme bc it takes me so long to answer them. i’m still working on a micro fic prompt from a few weeks ago. also, horrified to realized that it has in fact been a few weeks and not 3 days anymore.

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i don’t know that any are tumblr famous as a whole. but probably @neverheardnothing

do you have a crush on a mutual?

in any sort of romantic connotation? no. not that i’m aware of. there are mutuals that i have friend crushes on where i want to be friends with them but i get so anxious when it comes to meeting new people that usually nothing ever comes of it. i’m really not good at small talk or other casual conversation either which, as you may or may not be able to imagine, sucks. i just wanna skip over all of the awkward introductions and ‘hey how are you, how is life, what are you doing with yourself?’ stuff. not because i don’t care about it. i do, but i think most of my friends/the people i want to be my friends are also depressed and anxious so asking these basic questions about life tends to uh. make us all nervous. and i don’t do much with my life so i always have the most boring answers anyways.

i’m not tagging anyone officially bc the @ thing has just completely given up on me at this point, but if you want to do it, go for it. and then say i tagged you so i can read it c:

[ladylillianrose]

Take a Chance on Me, a Zoey Clarke/Max Richman fic

Zoey receives an evening visitor and an important conversation is finally had!

A/N: This is it gang! Thank you all for reading, commenting and enjoying this! As always the characters belong to the wonderful Austin Winsberg. I'm just borrowing them! You guys have been so wonderful and I love you all for it!<br />

The song used is "I'm A Believer" by The Monkees

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Zoey was relieved she had listened to Tobin and left work early.

She had taken a nice long soak in her tub with a glass of wine to help her relax. 

And now she was curled up on the couch with a pint of her favorite ice cream mindlessly watching whatever was on TV. Trying to focus on anything but the disaster of a kiss that had happened earlier.

She heard a knock on the door.  "Go away Mo. I don't want to talk about it tonight…"

"Umm it's not Mo…" She heard Max's voice through the door and froze.

What was Max doing here? Was she going to have to do this now?

"Zo please let me in, we need to talk," he pleaded.

She slowly shuffled to the door and let him in.

He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied, heading back to the sofa, refusing to look at him.

He followed, taking a seat right next to her.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Zoey asked, attempting to keep her voice light.

"Zoey will you look at me….please?" Max begged.

It took all her strength to lift her head and look him in the eye.

Max smiled sadly at her, "We're quite the pair aren't we?"

Zoey nodded, unable to say anything around the lump in her throat.

"Zoey, what was that about earlier? One minute you're kissing me and the next you take off running. You wouldn't answer my calls. The only way I knew you even made it back to work was because Tobin told me."

Zoey looked shocked. Tobin had seen Max and told him where she was…

"Yeah imagine my surprise when he comes up to the 6th floor and tells me we need to talk."

She laughed, "Sure he wasn't there for the food?"

"No, well okay yeah he came for the food. Dude filled a bucket with cheese fondue, but not before we talked.”

Max ran his hand through his hair nervously. “He told me how things have been since I left, how down you’ve been. He said if I knew what was good for me then I would come over here right now and fix things."

Zoey gaped at him. "He said that? See, I told you he has feelings!" She poked Max in the arm insistently, awkwardness momentarily forgotten.

Max laughed, " You did…Zoey what happened earlier…"

"Was a mistake…" she mumbled.

"Oh…" Max said sadly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just kissed you like that. You didn't kiss me back and I was so embarrassed that I just took off...and now I've messed things up even more between us…." She rambled, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.

"Woah wait a minute! You took off because I didn't kiss you back?" Max interrupted.

Zoey cringed, "Well yeah, obviously you've moved on…"

Max grabbed her and kissed her, stopping her train of thought immediately. 

Max was kissing her, really kissing her! She grinned against his mouth as she wrapped her arms around him, losing herself in the taste and feel of him.

She gasped as he pulled away and began trailing kisses down her neck.

"Wait Max," she heard herself say. "What…" she let out another moan as he bit her earlobe. "I can't concentrate when you do that," she whined.

Max chuckled continuing his exquisite torture, “That’s the idea my love.”

"L-l-love?" Zoey managed to stutter out, as he moved to the other side of her neck repeating his ministrations.

Max pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "Of course love. Don’t you know how completely in love with you I am?"

Zoey’s eyes shone with tears as she shook her head. “Then why when I kissed you did you not kiss me back?"

Max laughed, "I didn't kiss you back because I was so surprised that my brain stopped functioning!"

"Wait, what?"

"It's not everyday that the woman you’re in love with does the one thing you’ve been dying to do forever."

Zoey blushed, he was so open with his feelings and affections. It was one of the things she loved about him.

"So you're saying my kiss melted your brain?" she grinned.

"Oh absolutely! By the time I realized what was happening you had taken off running."

She blushed, "Not my finest moment."

Max brushed a curl off her face, "It brought us here, and that's all that matters. Never doubt how much I love you Zoey.”

Zoey leaned her face against his hand.  "I love you too Max."

Max's eyes brightened and a huge grin broke across his face.

He stood up and Zoey heard the beginnings of a heart song.

I thought love was only true in fairy tales

Meant for someone else but not for me

Love was out to get me

That's the way it seemed

Disappointment haunted all of my dreams

Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer

Not a trace of doubt in my mind

I'm in love

I'm a believer, I couldn't leave her if I tried

Max had giddily pulled her off the couch and began dancing with her around the room.

Zoey laughed at how happy he was and how happy she felt.

Max finished his song and Zoey grinned and kissed him, "I'm a believer too." 

His eyes widened and he chuckled knowing he couldn't hide anything from her.

"Guess this means I owe Tobin." Max said, wrapping his arms around her..

Zoey laughed, "You and me both."

Next Day

Zoey had been in meetings all morning, somehow managing to evade Tobin's meaningful looks and attempts to talk to her.

She glanced at the clock, it was almost lunch time, Max should be here any minute.

Tobin finally had enough and stalked over to her desk. He placed himself in front of her computer, refusing to budge until he got answers.

"Well???" he asked impatiently

"Well what?" Zoey said, ignoring him as she searched through her purse for gum.

Tobin made a disgusted noise, "Did anyone show up at your place last night?"

Zoey looked at him puzzled, "I mean the pizza guy came by, but that's cause I ordered dinner."

"And nobody else came by?...."

"Nooo...you didn't try to send a singing telegram again did you?"

"What no! And that was totally Leif's idea that time, not mine."

"You sent a singing telegram to her house?" She heard a voice say behind her. 

Zoey turned beaming at Max.  "They had found a mistake I made on a project and felt the need to gloat through song and dance."

"You needed to know you were wrong, and there was no better way to show your wrongness than through song. " Tobin said defending himself.

Max shook his head and bent down to drop a small kiss on Zoey's lips.

Tobin leapt off the desk in excitement. "Yes! I knew it!! You owe me another $50 bro!" He shouted to Leif.

"How many things about me have you bet on?" Zoey said, shaking her head.

Tobin shrugged, "It gets boring around here sometimes."

Max rolled his eyes looking at Zoey, "You sure he deserves this?"

Zoey laughed and nudged his shoulder. "Go on give it to him."

Max held out a 6th floor security clearance card to Tobin.

Tobin's eyes widened.

"If you ever tell anyone you have this I will deny it 100%." Max handed him the card.

Tobin nodded, staring at them unable to say anything in response 

Zoey laughed, "Go on I know you're dying to go try it out!"

Tobin took off sprinting to the elevators, calling out his thanks as the doors closed.

"I give him 2 weeks until he eats himself sick," Max shook his head.

"Are you kidding? His stomach is like a black hole. You saw the size of that cereal bowl!"

Max winced. "It may have been a huge mistake giving him that card."

Zoey laughed, grabbing his hand. "Yeah but he really did help us."

"I guess you're right about that."

"You sir, will find I'm right about a good many things."

Max grinned pulling her into his embrace and kissing her properly.

Zoey sighed happily as they pulled apart and headed to the elevators. Her mom had been right, the right person was worth taking a chance on.

[t0m0kii]

FANFIC: Monkee Meow [Monkees]

my first monkees fic that i’ve been working for ages on that i actually just finished yesterday! i love writing The Boys so i’ll probably write another one day when i’m struck with an idea but! until then! go ahead and read this one if you like!

((and yes, judging by the title you can probably guess that it involves a cat, lmao))

“You what?!”

“Oh, relax, Micky, taking care of cats isn't difficult! Besides, it's just for today, just a little extra money until our gig tonight, alright?” Mike talked quickly as he bustled around the pad, tidying up for the arrival of their small feline guest.

“I mean, 20 dollars all for just takin' care of a cat for two hours sounds good to me.” Davy said. “Plus, I quite like cats.” He smiled.

“Do you think the cat's gonna like me?” Peter asked nervously. “I'd hate to make it uncomfortable.”

“It's a cat, Peter! Not only that, but you're the least intimidating person I know, maybe even on Earth.” Mike replied from across the room, then going right back to feather dusting.

Peter seemed relieved as he grinned. “Thank goodness for that.”

“Good grief.” Micky was still a bit dazed, since Mike hadn't bothered to inform him of anything. Nevertheless, he regained his composure. It wouldn't be that bad. Cats are nice! And 20 dollars was a lot of money for guys like them...

“Oh, what the heck, we can handle it.” He finally concluded. “What's a cat to a Monkee?”

The conversation was halted by a sudden knock at the door.

“That must be them,” Mike said, rushing over to get the door. Before opening it, he caught one last glance at the other boys and gave them one final instruction. “Act natural, alright?”

“Don't worry, Mike, I can act. I was in a play once in my school days, y'know.” Peter reassured, smiling.

Davy spoke up. “You told me about that! I bet you played the part of that oak tree very well.”

Once the laugh track finished playing, Mike nervously opened up the door to meet who was on the other side.

A somewhat short  (but still taller than Davy) man in a fedora and a mobster-esque trench coat was standing there, holding a much smaller, less intimidating-looking cat in one hand, and a plastic bag with unknown contents in the other. He looked as if he'd definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, meanwhile the kitty, as black as the night, with bright yellow eyes that could probably scan a whole area in seconds, looked quite content and happy. “You guys the cat-sitters?” The man finally spoke up, his voice coated in a stereotypical Brooklyn accent.

At first, the guys didn't say anything. However, they'd met this guy's type before, and knew well enough to play it safe. Mike was the only one to finally say something. “Uh...Yeah, come on in.”

“Why did he say that?!” Micky whispered to the other two.

“He's lost it this time, I tell ya.” Davy whispered back.

“Why are we whispering?” Peter entered the conversation.

They both turned to look at him. “You know why!”

When they looked back toward the man, he had stepped into the house. His eyes narrowed as they seemed to scan the area around him. “You boys a band or somethin'?”

They all nodded. “We're Monkees, sir.” Mike answered meekly, as if he too was a bit unnerved.

“Monkees...” The man paused, as if he'd heard this name before, but just couldn't put his finger on when. “Right.” He dismissed the thought.

The cat, most likely already bored of sitting around, jumped out of the man's arms, and after making a graceful landing onto the floor, made its way over to a chair near the coffee table.

After watching the cat do its thing, the boys turned back to the man, wondering what he was going to say next.

He let out an impatient sigh. “Alright, listen,” he began, immediately grabbing the attention of all of them. “This cat?” He pointed to the cat, who was now sitting on the couch. “Very important cat. Gotta keep a real eye out for 'er. Can't ever turn your back.”

Even though they weren't entirely listening due to all the nervousness replacing their coherent thoughts, the four boys nodded nonetheless.

“Now, you can't let nothin' happen to this cat, see.” This time, the man was looking directly at Mike, right in his face, since he was nearest to him. “If anythin' happened to this cat, and we found out about it, me 'n the boys wouldn't be too happy, see.” He got closer until he was right in Mike's face. “And by the time we'd get done with yeh, you wouldn't either. Capiche?”

“Believe me, you're loud and clear.” Mike replied.

The man, now that he had finished his semi-threatening instructions, took a step back. He set the plastic bag down onto the ground by the door. “There's her cat food, in case she gets hungry. I'll be back in two hours, and remember...” Right as he opened the door and was about to exit, he looked back at them. “You can't turn your back.”

And with that being said, he left.

Mike turned around to face the other guys. “Gee, what a nice fella.” He said sarcastically.

“Yeh can't turn yer back,” Micky mimicked in his best impression of the man, then shaking his head. “Pssh, he's full of it.”

“Careful, Mick, he might unleash the boys on ya.” Davy joked, grinning.

“I could take 'em!” Micky put his fists up as if he were pretending to prepare for a fight. “Lemme at 'em, lemme at 'em!”

Peter looked tense. “I dunno, he seemed pretty serious.”

“We're not gonna take chances in findin' out,” Mike said. “If that's what he's like on a normal day, I don't wanna know what he's like when he's angry. For now, let's just focus on the situation at hand.”

All four of them looked toward the couch, where the cat was curled up, sound asleep.

Off to a good start, I'd suppose.

The whole pad was taking it easy.

Micky was over on the platform stage, sitting by his drum set, polishing the cymbals so that they would shimmer and shine their brightest at the gig that night. Mike was sitting on a middle step in the spiral staircase putting the finishing touches on the set list. Davy was down at the beach, and, whatever he was doing, it was probably being played over some sappy, slow song. Meanwhile, Peter was at the table by the staircase reading a book. An upside-down book, but a book nonetheless.

You may have already noticed how not one of them were paying attention to the cat. Why would they be? If you own cats yourself, you would know that cats usually aren't very active animals. Unlike dogs, they like to lie around and relax, occasionally moving around or jumping on something. As long as it wasn't making any noise, the boys figured it wasn't getting into too much trouble.

But then why was the man so insistent on them keeping constant watch over it?

Before this question could be given an answer, the back door suddenly opened up, revealing the figure of Davy. “Hey, fellas, guess what I just saw!”

“Let me guess,” Micky began. “You've just seen a face, you can't forget the time or place where you just met? La da da da-da da?”

“You're hilarious,” replied the adorable Brit sarcastically. “But really! That club we're playin' tonight, they've already put our names on their sign outside! 'The Monkees: On at 5 PM'!”

“Well, whaddya know!” Peter piped up. “...But how'd the sign know who we are?”

By this point, Davy was still holding the door open, and, for a brief moment, he felt something brush against his leg. However, since there was a bit of a wind blowing, he paid it no mind.

“Hey, Mike?” Micky turned to the wool-hatted man on the steps. “How's that cat doing?”

Mike didn't even look up from the set list. “She's over there, look for yourself. Just fed her a minute ago, so that should be fine.”

The curly-haired drummer shook his head, getting up from his drum set and walking over to the chair. He at least wanted to get a better look at her. He'd already seen her earlier when she'd just arrived, but he still wanted to get closer, just because he was like that.

He looked over from the back of the chair, expecting to see the cat still sound asleep.

Instead, the chair was empty.

“Oh,” Micky said nonchalantly. “She's gone.”

“She's gone.” Mike repeated absentmindedly. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he finally looked up from the set list. “What?!”

“She's gone!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Where could she have run off to?” Davy pondered.

The three boys looked over in the shorter boy's direction. There he was, standing in the doorway, still holding the door about halfway open. It seemed they were beginning to put the pieces together in their brains as to how the cat could've escaped.

“...What?” Davy asked, confused as to why everyone was glaring at him. His eyes wandered until they reached downward to where he too could see. “...Oh dear.”

Mike, Micky and Peter all sprung to action from where they were and bolted over to the back door. They bustled hurriedly outside to where they were standing on the deck, overlooking the beach.

Surely enough, in a curvy line starting from the bottom of the steps and leading off to god knows where, was a series of tiny paw prints.

All three of the other boys turned to face Davy, annoyed expressions on each of their faces.

“Heh...He said not to turn your back, y'know.” That was the only thing Davy could say. This sentence seemed to only make them angrier, but this time more so with themselves.

“Well, fellas, it's been a good run. It was nice knowin' ya, but I gotta spl-” Micky was about to walk away until he was grabbed by the back of his collar by Mike.

“Oh no you don't,” he said, dragging Micky back to where he was. He turned to face the others. “Look, we can fix this! We've got two hours; two hours til' the man comes back, and two hours til' our gig. All we gotta do is find the cat and bring 'er back by 5 and pretend nothing happened.”

“But we don't know where it went!” Davy piped up.

“Well,” Peter began, glancing back at the beach. “We could always just follow the trail.”

This caused the other three to glance in the same direction, then back to each other, then back to the sand.

They knew what they had to do.

Surely enough, they bounded down the back deck's stairs and started out hot on the trail of the paw prints.

If this were an episode, it would also be time for a short commercial break.

The paw shapes imprinted in the sand, though small in size, were still very much visible to the four boys and probably everyone else. As they walked along the trail, their eyes shifting up and down from the trail to where they were going, they tried to move quickly. After all, they didn't really have that much time.

They noticed how the path strayed farther and farther from the house. They had traveled all the way to around the middle of the far right when the prints abruptly stopped at the ocean shore.

“Why's it stop here?!” Micky exclaimed.

“I thought cats hated water.” Peter noted confusedly.

“Apparently it hates us even more.” Davy remarked.

Mike was trying to think of a possible answer, trying to be the one in charge. But, to tell you the truth, he was in the same lane with the others in the sense that none of them had a clue. It's difficult to always be the responsible one, you know.

Suddenly, a voice called from the ocean. “Lovely day out here, huh, boys?”

Their heads jerked to the source of the sound. They were met by the sight of a man in his boat, waving and looking quite content. They'd seen the man before, in his quite expensive looking motorboat, but they never knew him by name. They didn't think the man knew their names either, but still went out of his way to be friendly anyway.

“Don't interrupt, we're staring at the sand, basking in our failure and impending doom.” Mike replied, finally speaking up.

“Nice weather for staring at sand!” The man responded back, unaffected by the pessimistic dismissal. For some reason, he'd taken this as an opportunity to start an actual conversation. “Everyone's taking advantage of the sunshine, I'd say! I've seen lots of people come and go today.”

Something seemed to click with Micky. “Seen a cat lately?”

“Cat?” The man paused, looking down a second to think. After a second, he looked back up. “Oh, yeah, I did!”

“Where is it?!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Well, you see, right about where you're standin',” the main pointed to the spot, making them look downward. “The cat was right there, and one of my other sailor pals was standin' nearby over there.” He pointed to about where Davy was standing on the left side of the trail. “And I guess he figured no one else wanted it, so he said he was going to take it with him, and then he headed off.”

“We want it!” Peter protested.

“We don't really want it, we need it.” Mike corrected.

“Where's he gone with it?” Davy asked.

“Off into town, I'd suppose. Didn't really think to ask.” The man shrugged. He didn't quite understand the urgency of the situation, but then again, who else would?

The four looked at each other again, finally thinking of a solution.

“So we gotta go find him and get it back!” Micky said.

“Come on then!” Mike commanded, beginning to walk in the direction of where their Monkeemobile was parked. “Each second spent still alive is valuable!”

The other three followed behind, and they were off.

It wasn't long until their short car trip was over and they had reached the town. Quickly, they all hopped out and began to search.

“How are we gonna know who he is when we see 'im?” Davy asked.

“Look for a cat with a sailor. Er, uh, sailor with a cat.” Micky answered.

“Knowing the sailor type, he'll probably be talkin' his head off somewhere.” Mike joked flatly.

“At least we'll be able to hear him!” Peter smiled, still keeping his optimism after all this time.

Through the busy streets of the town they walked, examining every passerby in their lines of vision. Lots of talkative folk, even a few people with cats (one even looked a lot like the one they were searching for), but, alas, no sailors with cats.

Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention, causing him to point somewhere. “Hey, look! He doesn't have a cat, but there's a sailor. I bet maybe he knows the guy, at least.”

The others all looked over to where he was pointing, and, surely enough, he was right.

Mike gave Peter a swift pat on the back. “We don't give you enough credit, ol' buddy.”

“I get by.” Peter responded, smiling.

Without wasting any more time, they all hurried over to the man, which, as they could see, startled him a little bit. He looked a little freaked out as they approached.

“Hey! Do you remember hearing anything about a cat on the beach?” Mike asked him.

The look of shock on the man's face faded into a look of contemplation. After a second, something seemed to click in his mind. “Oh! That cat near the shore earlier today! ...Was that your cat?”

“We're pretty much responsible for it.” Mike replied. “You seen it?”

“Oh...Uh...” The man looked embarrassed. “Well, I saw it, and I didn't think it belonged to anyone, so...I brought it over to my mom's house and, uh, told her she could keep it. Y'know, since ladies like cats.”

All four of the boys' hearts fell. They had to look some more?! You must be joking!

“Do you think we can go get it back?” Davy asked.

The man began to look like he really wanted this conversation to be over. “Well, yeah, I guess I'd have to, since it's your cat and all.”

“It's n-” Micky was about to correct him, but a swift elbow jab from Mike shut him up.

The nervous sailor pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket and quickly scribbled something onto it. When he finished, he handed the paper to Mike. “Alright, there's the address, I assume you fellas will know what to do from there. Just don't be too forceful, alright?”

“Trust me, peace is our thing.” Peter reassured.

“Thanks a bunch, pal.” Mike said politely. “Sorry for the trouble.”

After he said this, all four of them turned around and scrambled back to the Monkeemobile, where they hopped back in and sped away in a flash.

The man blinked. “Long-haired weirdos,” he muttered, shaking his head.

After roaming the neighborhood, scanning each house number in search of the one written on the paper, they finally found the location of the residence.

From the car, they observed the house. It was a fairly nice, pleasant looking house, a lot like the kind of house you'd expect someone's mom to live in.

“Alright, no more standin' around, we gotta get moving.” Mike said, which caused everyone to exit the car and steadily approach the house. When they got to the front door, they stopped.

“Who's gonna knock?” Mike asked.

He looked over to Micky, who shook his head. He looked to Davy, who did the same. Finally, he looked to Peter, who just looked back, looking as if he were thinking about something very different.

“Alright, Pete, you do it.” He finalized.

Peter snapped out of his daydream and regained his composure. Facing the ground, he shyly stepped up to the door and gave two swift knocks.

They waited for a moment until they saw the door open up, revealing a content looking older lady on the other side. She smiled a little bit as she said, “Aren't you those boys who play in that band? The...Koalas?”

“Monkees,” corrected Peter.

“Oh! Well, I love you four! Won't you come in, I just made some muffins!”

Peter looked back at Mike for his permission. He shook his head. Peter, although disappointed, looked back to the doorway.

“N-not right now, maybe after the show later, though!” Peter grinned. “Actually, we were looking for a cat. A black cat, with bright yellow eyes, that looks like it'd be a blast to bring with you on Halloween.”

The lady was as calm as could be, as opposed to the anxious nature of the four boys in front of her. “Say, come to think of it, my son dropped by and gave me a cat just like that earlier today! He said he found it on its own...Is it yours?”

“We were supposed to be watching it for someone.” Micky answered.

“If you still have it, we'd, uh, kinda like to have it back.” Mike said.

“Oh...” There was a slight hint of regret in her voice. “Well...My niece came by, and she had been really wanting a cat lately, so I gave it to her instead. She seemed very happy about it. She even said she was going to use it for her entry in the Best Cat This Side of Malibu competition in the park. She sure seemed like she had a lot of confidence in that cat.”

It was all they could do to not groan out loud. They were getting real sick and tired of searching around for this cat, but they couldn't give up, even if they had already been searching for an hour.

The boys caught anxious glances at each other. Retrieving it this time was going to be harder than they thought.

“Do you think she'd mind if we got it back?” Peter asked, looking nervous. “'Cause, we, uh, kinda need it.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely.” The lady suggested. “She's fairly reasonable.”

Davy began to turn around. “We'd better get goin' then.”

“Right,” the others agreed, beginning to follow him back to the car.

“Thanks, we really appreciate it.” Peter thanked the kind lady, grinning.

“You'll come back for muffins later, won't you?” The lady smiled warmly.

Peter smiled right back. “Of course!”

With that being said, the four of them got right back into the car and sped off. As they took off, they all had a feeling that retrieving it this time was going to be harder than they thought.

When they had finally driven back toward the busier part of town, the whole contest set-up proved to be by no means hard to find. There was a surprisingly big crowd of people there, some with cats, some just there to watch, waiting around for the show to start. There were signs leading up to the park and everything, so you couldn't possibly miss it.

“How'd we miss this?!” Micky pointed to a nearby sign. “I swear that wasn't there yesterday!”

“It's best not to ask too many questions, Mick. That's the reader's job.” Mike advised from the driver's seat.

“The who?” Micky asked confusedly.

“No, the reader.” Peter corrected.

In the midst of these fourth-wall-breaking antics, Davy looked down at his watch. “It's already 4:15, we've gotta make this quick.”

Before any more could be said, the car turned into a parking space and slowed to a halt. The four boys got out of the car and began making their way over.

“We don't have much time left to waste, so we gotta move quickly. No distractions this time.” Mike said. The three others nodded in agreement as they began to look around. With their eyes they scanned each person with a cat in their arms. So far, none of the cats looked like the one they were looking for, which is odd, because you'd expect a cat like that to stand out quite a bit.

After a few minutes, they stopped for a moment.

Even though nothing was being said, each of them could tell that they were growing more and more hopeless.

“You know, if nothing works out, we could always leave the city, change our names, become a barbershop quartet somewhere off in Canada.” Micky proposed. “Or, eh, maybe a trio. We'll sacrifice Davy to the mobster guy because he's the one who got us into this in the first place!”

“It was your job to watch it, but no, yer bloody drums were more important, eh?!” Davy retorted.

“You leave my drums outta this!” Micky's face reddened. At this point, the two were right in each others' faces.

Peter's eyes darted instantly to Mike, expecting him to resolve the conflict, since he didn't want to get involved. As stated earlier, peace is sorta his thing. Upon noticing what was expected of him, the tall Texan rolled his eyes, let out a long sigh and stepped forward. “Hey, that's enough, you two! If you don't quit yammerin', I swear I'll-”

“Are you boys looking for something?”

All four of them stopped in their tracks. Almost in unison, their heads turned to see who had spoken to them.

They were met by the sight of a girl who looked to be just a little bit taller than Davy, with short blonde hair and auburn-colored glasses. In her eyes was a look of curiosity and amusement, and in her arms was none other than the cat they had been looking for all along.

A tidal wave of relief washed over the boys as they locked eyes with the feline, who was actually looking quite bored. They had their target right where they wanted it, and all they had to do was get it back. To do this, it was plain to see they had to first stay cool.

“Uh...” Mike spoke first as he and the others boys re-positioned themselves, dusting off their pants and pretending like they weren't just fussing at each other minutes prior. Abruptly, he looked over to Davy. “Would you care to explain?”

Meanwhile, Davy wasn't really paying any attention to what Mike had requested of him. His eyes were locked on the girl, and, for lack of any better description, there seemed to be a bit of a twinkle in them.

The girl's look on her face transitioned from curiosity to slight confusion. Maybe the secret to deflecting the sparkle eyes lies within the power of a pair of glasses...

“Hey, Davy!” A swift bonk on the head from Micky snapped him out of his fantasy.

“Waa! U-uh,” Davy quickly tried to regain his senses. “Actually, we were looking for something. That cat.” He pointed to the now sleepy looking feline she was holding.

She glanced down at the cat as she took a step back, holding it closer. “My cat?”

“Well, uh, the thing is...It's kinda ours.” Micky explained. “I mean, we were supposed to be watching it for someone, but then it escaped out onto the beach.”

“Then a sailor guy picked it up and brought it to your aunt.” Peter added.

“And then your aunt gave it to you.” Mike said.

“And now here you are.” Davy smiled, laughing a bit. “We've kinda been on the hunt for that blasted cat all day.”

Of course, this lump of sudden information was difficult for the girl to process at first, but, had you been suddenly caught up in this situation, you'd most likely be confused about it too. “Good grief! You guys have been through quite the predicament, huh?” She giggled, but her expression saddened when she looked down at the cat. “Well, I'm gonna miss having a cat, but I guess the hour I had her was well spent. I'll give it back.”

She was walking over to Mike to place it in his arms when, suddenly, a figure who seemed to be in a rush approached.

“Miss Debbie!” He tapped her swiftly on the shoulder. “The contest is starting! Bring over your cat!”

Debbie looked to the man, then back to our four boys, who looked just as surprised as she was, but with a more exasperated look on their faces. “Okay, I'm coming!” She said to the man, who had already rushed back to the judges' table. “I'll have to give it back afterwards, I'm sorry. I gotta go, okay? But come on, maybe you can watch.”

“For crying out loud! At this rate, it's curtains for us.” Micky muttered.

“Hey, maybe if she wins, the mobster guy will only bust our heads in just a little less forcefully.” Davy muttered back.

Unfortunately, there was no more time for witty jokes, because the contest was starting.

In front of them was a small sized obstacle course set up on the grass. It curved around a bit a few time, but was generally short. This, the boys assumed, must have been what the cats were competing for. It was an agility contest, and the winner got...Well, they'd figure that out when they got to it.

The four watched as Debbie walked over with the other contestants to set their cats down at the start of the course, the judges keeping a close watch in the process.

There were five cats, counting theirs, sitting in a horizontal line. The other kitties looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else, but, somehow, their black cat looked indifferent.

Suddenly, the same judge that had previously rushed them over spoke up. “And now, the agility competition begins! On your marks...”

The crowd waited in anticipation.

“Get set...”

While everyone else was focusing on the show starting, the four boys were more focused on their watches.

“Go!”

In an instant, all five of the cats bolted from the starting line and were off and away, some slower than others. The boys' eyes were glued on their cat the whole time, and even though there was a lot of noise in the background to distract them, they were trying with all their might to keep watch.

They observed as the cat maneuvered past the other cats with relative ease, passing each obstacle with poise and grace.

“Come on, come on!” They encouraged. They didn't care if she won or lost, just as long as she got back in time, but still, it felt nice and refreshing to be focused on something else besides worry. Not only that, but the energy of the rest of the crowd sort of revived their spirit, which, by this point, they needed.

They watched as the other cats were straying farther and farther behind from theirs in the lead. They couldn't help but be marveled by the fact that these other cats had probably been training for weeks, but theirs didn't even have any idea what was happening and somehow was still winning. They had a feeling the owners of the other contestants caught onto this too. Nevertheless, they all kept it in mind right until the bored looking black cat crossed the finish line in probably the most nonchalant way possible.

“She won!” Debbie cheered.

“She won.” Micky, Mike, Peter, and Davy all exchanged perplexed glances at each other, causing them all to just shrug. Still, they hurried over to where the cat was sitting patiently at the finish line.

As they all looked down at it, they could tell it still didn't care about anything.

“Better pick 'er up quickly, the wind might sweep her away.” Davy said sarcastically.

Mike was the one to do just that. “Very funny. Now, quick, what time is it?”

Micky raised up Davy's hand to where he could look down at his watch. “4:40.”

“We better hurry. Scooby Doo is coming on TV in 15 minutes.” Peter suggested.

As they were all rushing to the Monkeemobile, Mike looked back at him. “If we don't get this cat back to that mobster fella, we'll be the ghosts in their next TV special.”

“I've always wanted to be famous!” Peter grinned excitedly.

The other boys just shook their heads as they hopped in the car and began to drive off into the midday. You see, it wasn't quite the sunset yet, even though that would've been cooler.

Quickly, they pulled into a parking spot and hopped right out, explicitly making sure the cat was still with them. They certainly didn't want a repeat of the whole day.

They decided to go through the back door to arise less suspicion, just in case the guy showed up early.

After they'd bounded up the stairs, they practically ran into the house, shut the door behind them, and finalized it all with a long sigh.

“Phew,” said Davy, looking down at his watch. “And with only 5 minutes to spare.”

The pad was just as quiet and calm as it was when they'd left. It looked like practically nothing had happened, which is good, in their situation.

The cat jumped gracefully out of Mike's arms and sat down on the same chair it'd been sitting on when it arrived.

“Now, I say we get back to where we were, but this time, we k-”

His sentence was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. At once, they all knew who was on the other side, and once again they truly appreciated the fact that they'd returned just five minutes early.

Despite the fact that the figure on the other side of the door had knocked, they then proceeded to just walk right in anyway.

“Hey, did you leave the door unlocked?” Davy asked Mike.

“Either that or he just broke our lock.” Mike murmured in reply.

“Better than our skulls, at least.” Micky joked quietly.

At last, the trench coat man had returned in all his intimidating glory. They watched as his eyes immediately darted over in the direction of the cat, then to the food bag near the door, then to the boys themselves.

“Have you been standing there this whole time?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

They didn't really know how to respond, since this tone was more one of suspicion than of a genuine question.

“Uh...Yeah!” Micky nodded.

The man nodded back. “Good.”

He walked over to the cat and picked it up, causing the cat to meow happily in reaction. Right after that, he dug around in his pocket for a second and pulled out two crumpled ten dollar bills.

“There ya go,” he said. “That's ten dollars me 'n the boys scored from our last drive-by, ha ha! Good times.” He smiled a bit to himself, which seemed like a rare occurrence.

Our four protagonists didn't say anything. Instead, they were focusing intently on the time, watching as it turned from 4:44 to 4:45.

The trench coat man looked as if he were about to go out the door until he paused and looked right back around at them. “Say,” he began. “Would you boys mind if I came back again next w-”

“Yes!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Right then.” And with those final two words being said, he finally left. However, the Monkees still had a while before they could relax, as they had their show to go to in a matter of minutes.

Without even saying anything, they all grabbed their instruments (Micky even lifted his entire drum set over his head to bring, since there wasn't much time to take it apart) and bolted out the door.

Luckily, they only had to drive a minute or two into town to get to the place.

After they'd entered the building, got to the stage, and set everything up, the club owner approached to talk for a second.

“Good on you boys to be on time.” He praised. “A minute later and you would've been late!”

They all looked at each other, and they were all thinking the same thing; as soon as they got home, they were going to take it easy for the rest of today and tomorrow.

Right as the clock struck five, the place began to get crowded, and it was their time to shine.

“Alright, from the top!” Mike said. “One, two, three-”

The music began to play. Now, once again, if this were an actual episode, this would be the time for a musical segment, so for this part you can just use your imagination. Pretend they're playing “You Just May Be The One” or something.

The song eventually fades out, and everyone applauds. As the noise dies down, a single news reporter in the audience approaches, tape recorder microphone in hand. “So, what are you boys planning on next?”

“Sleeping.” They all said at once.

And with that, the episode fades to black.

At this part, the end credits would be playing, but – oh, you've got it by now.

Use your imagination.

[coll2mitts]

#89 Head (1968)

From the minds of Jack Nicholson and Bob Rafelson, is a 110 minute acid trip featuring The Monkees.  Their television show had been recently cancelled, and this movie is essentially their former-Disney star “I’m an adult!” moment in an attempt to break free of their preassigned roles and become Serious Artists.

I cannot adequately express the despair I felt when Head literally announced there would be no plot to this movie, and would instead be a series of skits.  It makes sense in the context of The Monkees, since they were formed for a television show.  Each section of the movie has a different genre, ranging from a traditional Western, a boxing movie, a television commercial, a stage-performed musical number, horror... they are all here, which makes an overall narrative pretty hard to discern, other than The Monkees’ general discontentment with their current position.

It begins similarly to A Hard Day’s Night, where the Monkees are being chased by... we don’t know what yet, but we can assume it is not excited teenage girls.  They then launch themselves off of a bridge, trip on LSD, find some mermaids, and hold a kissing contest that only triggered my Covid-spread panic.  The movie doesn’t give you much time to breathe before it comes in hot with a football player attacking soldiers, a football stadium cheering for war, and The Monkees playing a live concert with a screaming crowd cut together with scenes of civilians being killed during the Vietnam war.

Not gonna lie, I didn't think I'd have to address the Vietnam War at all during this project (unfortunately, Meet the Feebles took that assumption away from me rather quickly).  To be honest, I was really expecting this more from The Beatles, especially with John Lennon's very famous pivot to anti-war protest songs.  In college, I wrote a sociology paper on the Vietnam War's influence on popular culture and the function of the media created, and not once in all my research were The Monkees even seriously cited, other than some coy allusion that “Last Train to Clarksville” might have had something to do with a soldier travelling to an army base.  I was so taken aback by the opening scene of this movie, that I literally pulled out my paper and the books I had purchased to write it to see if I had missed something.  There was ONE sentence about Mike Nesmith singing a protest song before he joined The Monkees.  Granted, if you were alive during the 1960s, to be ignorant of the war in general would have been so incredibly tone-deaf.  Had I realized this movie would be political in any way, I would have expected this.  In one book, the author had compiled over 750 songs that directly addressed the war.  Record sales tripled during the decade, and Woodstock might be the most famous festival we’ve ever held in the US - processing the war through music was very much *a thing*.  So, of course, I had to dive into this, because my brain can't just be like, "Well, I guess The Monkees hated the Vietnam War like the majority of the population, I guess.”

There wasn’t much to find, other than this bizarre clip of Davey Jones on an 80s talk show bragging and singing about how he had evaded the draft.  Turns out, the writer/director of this picture, Bob Rafelson, really controlled the message of this movie, and he inserted these scenes as commentary on the performative aspect of war, and how television “...makes you inured to the realities of life.  Oh yes, it brings it into the living room, but then you don’t have to fucking deal with it.  There is no distinction made between the close-up of the young girl responding hysterically to the appearance of The Monkees and to the shot of the assassination at the same time.  And then the hysterical girls attack the stage where The Monkees are playing and shred their clothing off.  But they’re not The Monkees, they are wooden dummies.  They’ll shred anything, as long as it’s the thing to do.  Rape the stage, attack the musicians, real or unreal, who cares?  And it was just pointing out that there was a sort of a mindlessness to, as The Beatles used to complain all the time, to the appreciation of the music.”

There’s a lot going on in this statement...  I’ll agree that the constant barrage of violence and unrest eventually numbs you to it.  Especially now, with a 24-hour news cycle, and twitter just bombarding you with every fucking egregious thing going on in the world at once.  A sense of hopelessness overtakes you; The doom-scrolling will only pacify you into not acting, because what the fuck can you do to change anything?  There are too many problems, and they’re too large to solve on your own.

The second part of this statement, where teenage girls will do anything “as long as it’s the thing to do” is pretty insulting.  I suppose the attitude of teenage girls being easily manipulated to enjoying things was amplified with Beatlemania.  Its continued on, where bands like New Kids on the Block, The Backstreet Boys, and One Direction are immediately dismissed as superfluous because teenage girls like them, and teenage girls are shallow because they’re driven by their hormones.  What’s unbelievably frustrating about this mindset is it has been disproved time and time again, INCLUDING The Beatles.  I know more dudes who rep for them than I do women.  Shit, in this dumpsterfire of a year, Harry Styles’ new album has been one of the few positive things that has kept me going, and that came out 10 months ago.  With the success of kpop as well, a lot more people are starting to come around to “manufactured content that teenage girls like can be good, actually”.

The Beatles complaining about how their music is secondary to the mania about them is really rich, considering their legacy now.  It’s not like they were that attractive or charming... I sat through 2 of their movies and the only person I even mildly connected with was Ringo, because he was a goofy dope.  I’m fairly certain teenage girls were buying their records and going to their shows because they liked the music.  As a former teenage girl, let me tell you, the illusion of depth and sensitivity is way more attractive than a pretty face.

Teenage girls made The Monkees and The Beatles successful, and for the director, who directly profited off of that success, to make a movie that criticizes them really rubs me the wrong way.  Also, it was the fucking 1960s, about as volatile of a decade as you could get *until* now.  Maybe teenage girls focused so much on The Monkees and The Beatles because it was one of the few uncomplicated things that could bring them reprise from the violence unfolding around them.  But whatever, disparage their money lining your pockets, I guess.

The skits afterward are pretty unremarkable.  Micky is in the middle of a desert trying to get happiness out of a Coke machine, only to find it, and the task itself empty.  He then blows up the Coke machine with a tank given to him by the Italian army.

The Monkees are given a tour of a manufacturing facility, only to see what they are producing isn’t a quality product, and the workers themselves are either fake, or endangered by the endeavor.  There’s a few scenes where they fight against their predetermined personalities in the band, or what their fans might think of their behaviors.  They are used in a dandruff shampoo advertisement and vacuumed up and held hostage in a black box.  There is an outstanding upbeat musical number performed by Davy (and Toni Basil!) about a boy whose father left him.  He lays it all out on the dance floor, only to be criticized by Frank Zappa of all people, for not having a message in his music that will save the youth of America.

While they are searching for answers on how to escape the box they’re trapped in, or purpose in what they’ve accomplished, they find nothing.  Peter tries to enlighten them with a bunch of culty bullshit, but instead Davy loses his shit and starts physically attacking literally everything featured throughout the movie, culminating in The Monkees running from their movie studio and jumping off a bridge to free themselves.  They unfortunately are captured and shoved back in the black box, awaiting the next time they will be carted out to market something else for The Teens to buy.

I probably don’t need to tell you that this movie flopped.  The studio purposely left The Monkees out of all the promotional material because they thought it might detract from the serious motion picture they were trying to release.  The problem with this, however, is if you don’t know anything about The Monkees, this movie is not going to make sense to you.  I had to watch several behind-the-scenes clips to get any semblance of an idea what they were trying to achieve.  Sure, the Capitalism and Manufactured Entertainment is Bad theme is pretty easy to pick out, but why The Monkees were the ones saying this after being immersed in the middle of it for three years is an important position to understand beforehand.  And even if you were a Monkees fan, like my mother was, this basically shits on their entire experience in show business, so it probably doesn’t hit too well with their core demographic, either.  I respect what they were trying to do here, but it’s no mystery to me why this movie has almost entirely been lost to time.

I’d like to say this ends my series on rock bands that decided to make musical movies, but next on the list is a little story about a pinball-wizard-that-could, Tommy.