Pump Up the Volume

You ever get the feeling

that everything in America

is completely fucked up?

You know that feeling that the whole country

is like, one inch away from saying

"That's it! Forget it!"

I mean, think about it, everything's polluted

the environment, the government

the schools, you name it.

Speaking of schools, I was, uh

walking the hallowed halls the other day

and I asked myself...

"Is there life after high school?"

Because I can't face tomorrow

let alone a whole year of this shit.

Yeah, you got it, folks.

It's me again with a little attitude

for all you out here in white-bread land

all you nice people livin' in the middle

of America, the beautiful.

Let's see, we're on, uh

92 FM tonight

and it feels like a nice, clean little band so far.

No one else is using it and the price is right.

And, yes, folks, you guessed it.

Tonight, I'm as horny as a ten-peckered owl

so, stay tuned because this is Hard Harry

reminding you to eat your cereal with a fork

and do your homework in the dark.

Hey! Gimme that.

Hey, man, let me see that.

Well, give it on over here.

Oh, man, he played Ice-T on this tape.

Great. Plays Ice-T and talks about his dick.

Nah, man. Ice-T shreds on this. I heard it last night.

Mr. Chavez? Luis Chavez?

Yes, just for a second.

Alright, so I'll pick you up after yearbook?

- Okay, Dad. - And no big dates tonight.

Be well-rested for your history exam tomorrow.

- Okay. - Yo, Paige!

Any time, anywhere, beautiful.

Mr. Paige.

Oh, Miss Paige Woodward arriveth.

So rich, so smart...

So perfect.

Cheryl, good to see you.

Gonna see the principal this morning, huh?

Mr. Murdock, can you tell me what this is about?

We'll see.

Excuse me, Mrs. Creswood.

Yes?

Check this out.

What is it?

It's this guy.

He's got a pirate radio station

on the air.

His name is "Happy Harry Hard-on."

- He's a total sex maniac. - Of course.

Nora: He comes on every night at 10 o'clock.

Hard Harry: Okay...

Down to business.

I got my Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi

and, uh, I got my Blackjack gum here.

And I got that feeling.

Hmm, yeah, that familiar feeling...

that something rank is going down out there.

Yeah, I can smell it.

I can almost taste it

the rankness in the air.

It's everywhere!

It's running through that old pipeline out there

trickling along that dumb concrete river

and coming up through the drains

of those lovely tract homes we all live in.

So who is he?

He goes to Humphrey.

Hard Harry: I mean, I don't know.

Everywhere I look, it seems everything is sold-out.

They say this is where the reception is the coolest.

Then he probably lives right around here.

Fuckin' yuppies.

Hard Harry: My dad sold out...

and my mom sold out years ago when she had me.

And then they sold me out when they brought me

to this hole in the world.

Hey, they made me everything I am today

so, naturally, I hate the bastards.

Speaking of which, I am, uh

running a contest...

on the best way to put them out of their miseries.

Tonight, we have number 12

of one hundred things to do with your body

when you're all alone.

Hard Harry: Now, are you ready for the incredible sound

of Hard Harry coming on his own face?

Oh, my God.

It's very possible, you know?

Are you listening to this?

Yeah, of course I'm listening.

This guy's gotta have hair coming out of his palms.

Oh! This is a champion one.

Oh. There. Yeah.

Are you listening?

Hard Harry: I'm going blind. - He's doing it.

So unreal.

- Oh, my God. Hard Harry: I'm coming.

This...

Yes, Hard Harry will go to any length

to keep his three listeners glued

with ooey-blooey to the radios.

But the question is

how far will you go?

I mean, how far can you go

to amaze and disgust

the insatiable Hard Harry, huh?

I mean, how serious are you?

I ask you that--

Mr. Paige: Hi, beautiful.

You know what I can't figure out?

How you manage to get such great grades

and you listen to that radio all night, you know?

Uh, tomorrow, don't forget Yale interview.

And I don't want you to look too sleepy, you know?

Good night, sweetie.

Hard Harry: Got a lot of letters here, guys.

Here. "Dear Hard Harry...

my boyfriend won't talk to me anymore.

How do I show him that I really love him?"

Look, I-- I don't know anything

about these letters asking for love advice.

I mean, if I knew anything about love

I would be out there making it

instead of sitting in here talking to you guys.

No. Just, uh, send me stuff at Box 2710...

USA Mail, Paradise Hills

Arizona, 84012.

Reply is guaranteed.

"Dear Harry,

I think you're boring and obnoxious

and have a high opinion of yourself."

Of course, some of you are probably thinking

I sent this one to myself.

"I think school is okay if you just look at it right.

I mean, I like your music

but I really just don't see why

you can't be cheerful for one second."

I'll tell you, since you asked. Uh...

I just arrived in this stupid suburb.

I have no friends

no money...

no car, license.

And even if I did have a license

all I could do is drive out to some stupid mall.

Maybe if I'm lucky play some fuckin' video games

smoke a joint, and get stupid.

You see, there's nothing to do anymore.

Everything decent's been done.

All the great themes have been used up

turned into theme parks.

So, I don't really find it exactly cheerful

to be living in the middle of a...

totally like, exhausted decade...

where's there's nothing to look forward to

and no one to look up to.

That was deep.

Oh, no. Not again.

The creature stirs. Oh, God

I think it's gonna be a gusher.

This is the sixth time in an hour!

Oh, God.

He sounds like a chronic masturbator.

He prides himself on it.

See? I have to take care of it.

Oh! Or else I'm going to explode!

Just excuse me while I, uh...

while I, while I, uh...

Oh! Oh!

Oh, yeah!

Oh! Oh, God!

Oh! Oh, my God, it's the biggest...

Whoa, Nellie! Whoa!

God! I'm gonna explode!

Oh, take cover, Arizona!

- Here-- - Any time now, man.

Oh, oh, God.

Oh!

Oh, God, it's the best.

Oh, God, yeah. Yeah.

Free at last.

I'm beat. I'm whipped. Quittin' time.

Gotta recuperate.

There he goes. Sometimes, he's on for five minutes

sometimes he's on for five hours.

That's my man.

God, I feel so out of touch here.

Honey, we didn't move out here to stay in touch.

Then why did we move out here?

Oh, because it's a nice place to live.

I'm making good money, and uh...