Through the magic of Christmas, Rocks Off has received a copy of the transcript of the "Sinatra Group" sketch that was filmed in an alternate reality last weekend, one in which Phil Hartman never died, and Saturday Night Live is currently in one of its funniest seasons to date.
What else could we do but share? This episode was guest-hosted by Will Ferrell, and featured special guests Mike Myers, Rob Schneider and Jan Hooks.
(Open on the familiar Sinatra Group set, as the key players chat amongst themselves; main title onscreen)
Announcer: The Sinatra Group, an unrehearsed discussion of current issues in the recording industry. And now, the moderator, Frank Sinatra!
Frank Sinatra (Phil Hartman): Good evening and welcome to my show. As most of you already know, Christmas is coming up next week, so my producers thought it would be a good idea to do a Christmas show. And no, not a "winter" show or a "happy holidays" show, a friggin' Christmas show, because this is America, and we don't disrespect the savior here.
Steve Lawrence (Mike Myers): That's right, Frank!
Sinatra: I know. With me, as always, are these two disgusting sycophants, Steve and Eydie.
Eydie Gorme (Jan Hooks): Great to be here, Chairman!
Sinatra: Shut up. Some of you in the audience may notice that the broad looks different this time around. What can I say, the chick who used to play her went nuts.
Today I've got a studio full of musicians, lucky me, right? Anyway, I think all of these bozos have Christmas albums out, that's what they told me. Let's go around with the introductions since I got no idea who the hell any of you are. We'll start with you, what's your story, shiny?
Fred Schneider (Rob Schneider): HEY THERE FRANK! WHAT'S THE NEWS?/ I'VE GOT GLITTER ON MY CHRISTMAS SHOES!
Sinatra: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You nearly put out my eyes with that jacket.
Schneider: I'M SURE I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN/ I'M JUST HERE FOR THE CHRISTMAS SCENE!
Sinatra: Not buyin' it, pal. You make Paul Lynde look like Steve McQueen. Quit starin' at me, you're makin' me uncomfortable.
Schneider: SORRY IF I BUG YOU OR GET IN YOUR HAIR/ I JUST CAN'T HELP MY BUG-EYED STARE!
Sinatra: Awright, let's just move on. You with the tits, you're next.
Jessica Simpson (Abby Elliott): You mean me?
Sinatra: No, I mean Deborah Kerr. Yes, you, blondie, let's go!
Simpson: Oh, I... I guess I'm here about my Christmas album? I don't really know, who are you again?
Sinatra: Who am I? You ditzy little twit, you don't ask who I am, I ask who you are!
Simpson (scared): Okay, who am I?
Sinatra (stares at her for a long moment): Awright, I'm sorry I blew up at you, sweetheart. I don't like to pick on the developmentally disabled.
Simpson: I developed a Christmas album!
Sinatra: Nice house, nobody home. Let's move on to you, with the star shades. You look familiar.
Bootsy Collins (Kenan Thompson): I hear that a lot.
Sinatra: Nice get-up, fancy-pants. You look like an alien that just dropped acid for the first time. You do a lot of drugs there, slappy?
Sinatra: What? Sorry, pal, I'm havin' a hard time understandin' you.
Collins: I said "absolutely," Frank.
Sinatra: I got nothin' on that pass, either. It's all pops and clicks to me. We'll move on to you, with the hair. You look kinda familiar too, there, chief.
Conway Twitty (Bill Hader): Well, I'm Conway Twitty, we actually worked together with Loretta Lynn on that -
Sinatra: Yeah, awright, I don't need your life story, we gotta keep the show movin'. Last guy, let's go.
Neil Diamond (Will Ferrell): I'm sorry, I just have no idea where I am. I was autoerotically asphyxiating in my dressing room and I think I went for too long because now I'm having some pretty serious memory loss, and I can't feel my hands.
Sinatra: Beautiful. Thanks for rounding out the circus, pal. Can't believe they stick me with these weirdoes a week before Christmas. If I wasn't getting' paid, I'd walk outta this studio right now with a song in my heart.
Eydie: You deserve better, Frank!
Sinatra: Shut up. Okay, I guess all you clowns got Christmas stuff to hock, so let's get to it. We'll start with Mr. Glitter. Anything you want to tell us about this song before we play it?
Schneider: THIS SONG'S FILLED WITH CHRISTMAS SPIRIT!/ YOU'LL BE ROCKIN' WHEN YOU HEAR IT!
Sinatra: Somehow I doubt that. Roll the tape.
Sinatra: You gotta be kiddin' me. "Fruitcake"? You, of all people, just showed me a song about fruitcake?
Schneider: IT'S A YUMMY, YUMMY CHRISTMAS TREAT/ GRANDMA'S FRUITCAKE CAN'T BE BEAT!
Sinatra: And who are all these kids in your video? The shirtless guys, the broad... where the hell are you in this?
Schneider: I WAS BUSY THE DAY OF THE SHOOT/ BUT I STILL THINK THE VIDEO TURNED OUT CUTE!
Sinatra: Too busy to appear in your own video, huh? That's just unprofessional. In my day, someone appreciated you enough to put your sound on film, you showed up! I wouldn't have my pal Oscar today if I'd been too busy foolin' around when I was supposed to be on-set for From Here to Eternity, you understand what I'm sayin', there, Fred?
Schneider: I WASN'T TRYING TO ANGER YOU/ AND NOW I ADMIT I'M REALLY CONFUSED!
Sinatra: I can't even talk to you anymore. Quick round table discussion, opinions on the fruitcake song. Boobs, go.
Simpson: I like fruitcake.
Sinatra: Insightful. Starchild, to you.
Collins (to Schneider): That synthesizer sounds old as hell, man. You need to update your equipment.
Sinatra: Can't understand a word. Duck's-ass, go.
Twitty: I hated it.
Sinatra: That makes me like you. Your turn, Sweaty.
Diamond: I'm not going to say anything, because I don't think any of you are real.
Sinatra: A true human wreck. Now, Titsy, you brought along a Christmas song for us, right?
Simpson: Sure did!
Sinatra: We gotta watch it, I guess.
Simpson: We tried for that old-school Motown sound, it was fun! What did you think, Mr. Snot-ra?
Sinatra: Horrible. I heard better singin' comin' outta the sanitarium during shock therapy. You better hope Darlene Love never hears that crap, or she'll kick your white-bread ass up and down the street, and I'll buy her the shoes to do it.
Simpson: Whatever, you're just a mean old fart.
Sinatra: I got class, darlin', somethin' you never even heard of. In five years, you're gonna be slingin' hash browns in an Alabama truck stop makin' your Christmas bonus at the glory hole!
Simpson (in tears): I don't have to take this! (storms out)
Sinatra: There, that's better. Movin' on, the one with the boots, you brought a video, right?
Collins: Sure did, Frank.
Sinatra: 100% gibberish. Just play the video, can't be worse than what we just saw.
Sinatra: I stand corrected.
Collins: You didn't like it?
Sinatra: Why would you say that? Just because it reminds me of a gang-bang on the subway? Just because I started screamin' "Oh God, make it stop!" ten seconds in? Steve, Eydie, they ever play that garbage on my show again, you two gotta get some knitting needles and jam 'em into my ears, okay?
Eydie: I guess so, Chairman?
Steve: Are... are you serious, Frank?
Sinatra: It's like hostin' the show with a pair of dead birds. Round table, opinions, start off, Hairball.
Twitty: I hated it.
Sinatra: Good man. Freakazoid.
Diamond (holding his gut): I think I felt a balloon pop. Yeah... yeah, I'm feelin' it. I'm feelin' it! Ugghhh... OH GAAAHHHHHD! (falls to floor, convulses, then springs to his feet and begins to sing a frantically sped-up version of "Song Sung Blue")
"Song sung blue, everybody knows one! Song sung blue, every garden grows one! Me and you are subject to demons tearing at our skin Demons! Demons! Scratching! Biting! Rrraaahhh!"
Sinatra (stands up and slaps Diamond, who falls to the ground): Settle down, you burnt-out hippie dink. No one upstages me on my own show.
Steve: You show him, Frank!
Schneider: PARDON ME, BUT I THINK I SHOULD MENTION/ NEIL MAY NEED SOME MEDICAL ATTENTION!
Sinatra: He needs Jesus, is what he needs. (sits back down) What a disgrace, behavin' like that at Christmas. Makes you sad. Okay, let's try and wrap up here. Conway, please save my Christmas show from this abysmal collection of crapola we've been showcasing so far.
Twitty: Will do, Frank. This is a song from an album I did for kids at Christmastime, featuring the talents of my little animated pals, the Twitty Birds.
Sinatra: Sounds adorable. Let's hear it.
Sinatra: Worst thing I've ever heard.
Twitty: Oh, but Frank, it's intended for children.
Sinatra: Really, sicko? A song about your ding-a-ling, and you're gonna put it on an album for kids?
Twitty: No, it's Ding-a-ling, the Christmas Bell!
Sinatra (stands): You get the hell outta my studio before I introduce your Christmas balls to my Christmas boots! Go on, beat it, ya pervert son of a bitch!
(Twitty flees in fear. Sinatra sits back down.)
Sinatra: Folks at home, I'm really sorry about that, he seemed like an all-right guy. Just goes to show, you never can tell who's gonna turn out to be a filthy degenerate.
Schneider: HEY THERE FRANK, GOTTA INTERRUPT/ IT LOOKS LIKE NEIL'S THROWING UP!
(Cut over to Neil Diamond; he is, in fact, stooped over the back of his chair, vomiting a series of odd, fluttering dry bits onto the floor near Steve and Eydie.)
Eydie: Oh God!
Sinatra: What the hell is that? What's he pukin', there, Steve?
Steve: It looks like... like moths?
Diamond: I ate a lot of moths this week. Needed the roughage. Bler-hergggg! (continues vomiting.)
Sinatra: Well, bad news, folks, we're contractually obligated to play this disaster's Christmas song. Let's get it over with.
Sinatra: You know... that was a lot better than I thought it'd be. Good production, good singing, not sure about all the lyrics, but overall, not too bad. You get your act cleaned up, kid, you might have a career ahead of you. You hear what I'm sayin', Diamond? You got potential, don't waste it!
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(Cut over to Diamond, who lies still on the ground in a pile of dead moths, at the feet of Steve and Eydie.)
Eydie: I think he's dead, Chairman.
Sinatra: It's a Christmas miracle. Sorry 'bout this, folks, but join me after New Year's, we'll have swept all this up and we'll have Vice President Joe Biden, Nicole Kidman and my pal Sammy Davis Jr. Good night!
(End titles and theme music.)