The image of Ben Wa in staff uniform, pointing a saber at a rice paddy and some mud huts, is outlined against the sunset. The saber begins spewing tracer bullets across the darkening landscape. A blimp, customized into, you guessed it, a gigantic phallus, drifts overhead. On the bow, or rather the head, of the blimp is neatly lettered "TRICKY DICK II".

Parachutes begin their lazy descent, set off against the fading of the sunset into starry evening by bursts of flame and smoke. A bull horn, at ear shattering volume, begins an insane diatribe, breaking up into feedback every few moments, promising unspeakable atrocities and torments undreamed of, in short order, and assuring all and sundry of the dearth of mercy which is to be their sorry lot.

We see three parachutes hanging from the tree tops, bearing Adolph Hitler, Attila the Hun, and Charles Manson. Hitler, a puzzled look crossing his face, says, "Charlie, vat are ve doink vallink vrom ze sky in ze Mekong Delta?" Charlie, laughing in an unsettling manner, replies, "Alimentary, Mein Fuhrer. That slant eyed Vampire asshole is playing "Ben Wa's Angels."

Attila is carrying a lamb, clad in a black garter belt and mesh stockings, with a pink scarf around its neck. As they release in unison and drop to the ground, they are singing "There'll Never Be Another Ewe" in superb barbershop style harmony, a capella.

The Boys link arms, chorus line fashion, and begin dancing the Can-Can. The sheep, now wearing a long frilly dress and slip, with no drawers, joins them. There is a blinding flash of light, and, "Presto", there are six of these raging psychopaths, howling with glee and doing the Can-Can with a sheep rollicking on either side, exposing herself and prancing on two legs.

Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Their numbers doubling in geometrical progression with each succeeding flash,the squalid landscape quickly fills with countless hordes of Hitlers, Attilas, Mansons and scantily clad sheep.

Charlie, his mood improving as he figures out the haps, shouts "hey, fellas,are you feeling, ah, 'up to snuff'." Attila, ever the sly wit replies "All right, Charlie. There's some good times, er, 'in the offing'." Hitler, grim faced but bright eyed sums it up. "Aryan brothers, it is 'time for the wasting'." (He, crazy but not stupid is hardly about to impugn the ancestry of Attila the Hun, not in no fucking rice paddy, believe that.)

Gentlemen, let the Games begin.