You sell your accumulators on late night infomercials
With your stock of orgone accumulators ready to move, you decide that the best way to get the word out is through the medium of television. You're taking to the airwaves, and all your haters are gonna know that you've got the touch.
As it turns out, however, you don't know much about producing a commercial, and even less about salesmanship. You're going to need help on this, but who can you trust to do this up right? And on a budget? Mostly just on a budget, since you've nearly worn out your credit cards just building these boxes. Who knew it would cost so much to make a box from layers of metal and wood? Never mind. Just need to get a team together, that's all.
You scour the classifieds and wind up circling out the number for a local film production crew. The only local film production crew you can afford. They're mostly amateurs, used to shooting films in their basement for MeTube, but they've got a camera, a couple lights, a boom mic, and, more importantly, they can get you the local celebrity weatherman to help you hosting the commercials for a couple hundred bucks extra. Score one for Team Kook. Though you had planned on shooting long, aiming for full information saturation in a thirty-minute show, they convince you to only do a five minute spot.
The shoot goes... differently than you expected. The weatherman that rolls in to your lab, nearly an hour late, apparently quite drunk, and he takes no interest at all in reading the script you had prepared. The production team assures you that it'll be fine, they'll just work around any problems, and set to work. You watch them, confused, as they tape a few outside shots of the lab, followed by a close up on the weatherman, slobbering on about the entrepreneurial spirit, the great American frontier, and how great cowboys are. When they finally get around to you and introducing the product, they only give you a minute to talk, and the "real host" keeps interrupting you with ridiculous questions. He then claims Reich was a Nazi scientist who escaped with this secret technology, and, worse, doesn't even pronounce Reich properly! You try to stop them and correct them, but they assure you, again, that they'll work around it, to just keep your cool, but, damn, this can't be how it should be. Don't these apes understand the importance of your work?
When you finally see the finished cut, airing late night on local access, you discover that no, they did not understand your work at all...