A military scenario opens the vignette, Nimoy’s stoic elocution impressing the gravity of the situation. Regal French horns, a Vox-amped guitar, and a military snare stamp an insignia of ‘60s primetime drama. An amphibious craft prepares to attack enemy shores. Oddly enough, on that same craft, a soirée for high-ranking military officers is in full swing. Cue cocktail music, serving as a backdrop for mingling socialites. A hydraulic ramp lowers to release a lone soldier, momentarily diverting the attention of the partygoers, who watch the soldier run laboriously onto the beach, his heavy breathing filled with purpose and fear. A single gunshot rings out . . . silence. The military fanfare, lounge band, and conviviality resume, as the warcraft abandons the slain soldier on the beach–a sacrificial deposit in the name of democracy.
Delightfully bizarre.
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