For The Last Time! I'm Not That Lars Ulrich!

This is the last of my character without a book blogs, featuring the fearless and legendary Mountie inspector Lars Ulrich, the most relentless hunter of the Great White North, scourge of entertainment reporters, and not at all the other Lars Ulrich. Don't ask him if he's in Metallica.

Yes, I know he's played a Mountie before, but Paul Gross could certainly play a different, crankier one...

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I hate those bloody damned reporters.

If I had my way, I'd have them all arrested. Absolute scum, the lot of them. Why they keep following me around is beyond me. I've got enough to do. I'm hunting a ruthless killer, a Muppet named Mr. Johnson, lost somewhere in the Alberta foothills. Not only is he a ruthless killer, he's also a supervillain. He's threatened to destroy the world if Grover the Muppet isn't killed. His deadline's a few days away.

You know, it seems like it's been a lot longer since he made the demand then a few days. I wonder why that is.

Anyway. Reporters. Like I said, absolute scum. Oh, sure, some of them are legitimate, actually doing serious work. Most of them though are worthless lower life forms. Instead of homo sapiens, they come join whatever media outlet will give them a job, and they devolve into homo journalistus irritatingus. If Darwin had to put up with them, he'd agree with me.

Reporting on a beauty pageant isn't actual journalism. Reporting on video footage of a funny dog isn't actual journalism. Reporting on a bake sale isn't serious journalism. And the worst of the lot? Entertainment reporters. They keep following me around, just because I've got the same name as some heavy metal musician. They keep asking me inane pointless questions about why I'm not with the band, or what I think about some halfwit celebutante actress or an actor who's losing his mind.

I tried to be polite at first. It's the Mountie way of things. We're polite. That, and the whole We Always Get Our Man line. Still, how many times can a man be polite? I kept telling those knuckle dragging morons that I'm not that Lars Ulrich. Did they listen? No! It was always yet another Lars! Did Metallica break up? Or Lars! What about the rumors that Ozzy Osbourne, Meat Loaf, and Rihanna are going to tour with you? And then there's Lars! Are you attending the Grammys this year?

Like I said, morons. So I did what any man would do. I started kicking a few of those entertainment journalists around. Busting heads, breaking ribs, throwing them into ravines. To their credit, the serious journalists never actually filed a complaint. Maybe they're scared of me, maybe they consider those yahoos a blight on their profession.

Yet for some reason, more of them turned up. Entertainment Tonight. Access Hollywood. TMZ. And let's not forget that new one... Hollywood Kisses Its Own Butt. And always with the inane questions, mistaking me for some over the hill metal musician with hearing problems.

It's a shame. You know, William Tecumseh Sherman hated reporters too. He once said he'd kill all of them, but for the fact that there'd be news from Hell before breakfast. He was right. I think the general and I would get along pretty well with each other. He understood that reporters were scum too.

I don't know how much more of them I can take. I've got serious business to take care of. There's a convicted fugitive still out there. Fred Johnson might be a Muppet, but he's a very dangerous killer. He murdered that little Muppet Elmo. Sure, some people might figure the little red menace had it coming, and I might agree, but Elmo was still a murder victim. And he framed Grover for it. While I can appreciate his dislike for Grover... I mean, that whole speaking without contractions thing he does is just enough to drive me up the wall, and I honestly believed he was a murderer too, framing someone for murder just isn't right.

Johnson's a killer, and a villain. He's threatening the world. I can't imagine how a Muppet could destroy the world, but I can't afford to throw caution to the wind. He's out there somewhere, and I've got to find him. I just can't shake this strange suspicion I've got that someone's throwing obstacles in my way... someone higher up the chain of command from me. Maybe someone in the government. Well, I'll find out soon enough.

There's work to be done. There's a Muppet killer to be hunted down. And we Mounties always get our man. Or in this case, our Muppet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get to it. Besides, I see a nitwit with Entertainment Tonight just walking into the detachment.

I think I'll drop him off Mount Widowmaker.