Parody all those newscaster cliches. Peter Limschmidt the Fourth, the popular senator [show a political rally with no one there, maybe a janitor pushing a broom in the background] died today [show an empty church with a full choir singing "Happy Birthday" in funereal tones and pace]. Today was his Not Applicable birthday. Old lady: "He was a quiet boy. He never made a fuss, even when I sent him to his room without any supper." Typical squishy suburban neighbor-next-door guy: "He always seemed to be a regular guy. He never let on he was a senator, or a mannequin." Like every politician, Peter came from a humble background. Old man: "People always asked how we came to have a mannequin for a son. It was simple, really. Martha Alice and I had been talking about having children. I was dumpster diving at the big department store and there he was, tossed out because of a scratch on his right cheek. I brought him home and that was that. People thought we were strange at first, nuts even. That changed pretty fast when they realized Peter was the only boy in town who wouldn't steal their freshly made pies off their window sill, or break their picture windows with his baseball." [pictures of the family over the years]
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