r. l. feliciello

America is downtown earth and will not be ignored. Yet the question lingers: the last best hope of earth or the land that Satan blessed? 3 American Cranks takes you on a satirical roller coaster tour of the best and worse of the Land of the Free and the Homeless and, when that breathless ride comes to a sudden stop and you wobble away, you will be primed to give forth an opinion of your own on the matter, if you are not too dizzy.

Three eccentric American outsiders bare their souls and air their outlandish opinions about personal sanity in today's America gone haywire. A rollicking and irreverent, no-holds-barred satirical romp, bursting with American spunk and spirit, shying away neither from the underside nor the persistent promise of America.  

Laughter rings out on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial when street preacher/soapbox orator D. C. Washington steps up to transform the lunchtime crowd into his congregation and delivers a string of delightfully outrageous sermonettes on life and love in America under the reign of the One Percent.

Meanwhile at the rear of the congregation a shy, sex-starved college freshman is thrilled to discover that the distant brunette standing just inches away is, like him, holding a copy of Edgar Allan Poe's The Philosophy of Furniture. So begins a madcap mix of all-in-their-heads courtship and all-out war between the sexes, interwoven with the witty truth-telling of D. C. Washington on race in America, Wall Street, Inequality, the disappearing Muddled Class, and the need to Declare Your Independence.

On his way to explaining why the black man is the only 100% American, the street preacher/soapbox orator declares, "Hello, my fellow slaves. We used to pick cotton now we pick dollars, and the necktie is the new shackle. My name is D. C. Washington, and I cannot tell a lie."

The college freshman confesses his titanic failures to break the ice with the opposing sex. "The trouble with females is they are not thinking about sex all the time."

A young brunette of bristling intelligence lambasts the fraud of male superiority. "Marriage? I refuse to spend my days as a trophy wife in a trophy case, gathering dust. I believe I can do more with my intelligence than pair socks."