We Must Find The Cure For The Michael Bay Movie Virus

Some links before I get started today. Norma was busy yesterday, with excerpts from her memoir and Sam's Story. She also wrote about crossovers. Yesterday Parsnip had her weekly Square Dog Friday. Lena wrote about teaching children to read. Cheryl writes today about local news. Lorelei wrote a post about her vacation. Hilary had her weekly Fill In Friday. The Whisk had this question. And Mark has a new book out.

Now then, shall we get to the mischief at hand?

Overblown Director Announces New Film, Annoys Reporters With His Own Ego 

Los Angeles (AP) Director Michael Bay had reporters gather at the production offices for his company Digital Domain yesterday to announce his latest project. The director, already well known and deservedly maligned for such films as the Transformers franchise, Pearl Harbor, Armageddon, Bad Boys, and The Island, is in the midst of several new projects, including remakes of Gone With The Wind and Casablanca, film projects that have outraged fans of the original films. For his part, Bay has tended to shrug and ask, “What’s their problem with me?” before looking at his reflection in the nearest convenient mirror.

This reporter was among those sent to cover the announcement by the self absorbed fan of movie explosions. Such a terrible fate may have had something to do with the fact that this reporter’s editor seems to hate this reporter with a vengeance over something so inconsequential and meaningless that...(hey! It was not inconsequential or meaningless! You laughed during my mother-in-law’s funeral, and you thought there were no consequences to that? ~ editor.)

Well, regardless of who did what or laughed at whichever inappropriate moment, what mattered was that at that moment, this reporter was being punished, and punished most severely by a tyrant who refuses to take a joke. This reporter had to cover the latest announcement by an egomaniac so deeply in love with himself that he wanted the planet to be renamed after himself. And even worse, a number of the reporters in the crowd weren’t real reporters. They were entertainment reporters, a motley crew of the damned, the condemned, and the contemptible. By the way, this reporter is getting paid by the word.

Bay was announced by one of his assistants, stepping out on stage at Digital Domain, waving, flashing that usual dimwitted grin of his. He peered into a mirror set up on stage, brushing a couple of fingers through a flyaway strand of hair, until his appearance met with his personal approval. Then he waved again, taking to the podium. 

“Welcome! Great to see you all here today! And isn’t it a great day to bask in the magnificence that is me?” Bay called out, still smiling like a dolt. “Well, I won’t keep you in suspense much longer. I know you all want to know what I’m up to, how much wisdom and charisma I might impart on you. You know, like many of you, I pay attention to the news. And there are even times when I get ideas from the news. So I was watching the news recently, and there it is. The next big story. All those people dying and suffering from the Ebola virus. And I realized that I could make a movie about that!”

Reporters looked at each other with a mutual eyeroll as if to say, oh please. Bay, oblivious to our disdain, simply carried on speaking. “I mean, that’s a scary disease, right, and it kills off a lot of people, just not in the right part of the world for it to scare the living daylights out of a filmgoing American audience, am I right? So my idea was very simple. Why not have the Ebola virus go all out in the heartland of America and kill a lot of people?”

This reporter looked around at his colleagues, wondering what he had done to deser... (like I already said, you laughed during the funeral of my mother-in-law, you horrible excuse for a human being! ~ editor). This reporter sighed in dismay. There would be no getting out of this one. Bay continued. “So we’ve got ourselves a deadly virus running rampant all over the country, dropping people by the score. They’re bleeding out. Their organs are turning to jelly- we’ll have to get the special effects people working overtime on this one. And they’re in a bad way. And for dramatic effect, the Ebola virus makes the patients feel compelled to break into police and army stockades and blow stuff up.”

A total silence enveloped the room. Finally, this reporter spoke up. “Mr. Bay, are you aware that the Ebola virus does not do well outside of its usual tropical environs? Hence the reason why there has yet to be a true pandemic of that virus? And are you aware that the virus does not make people break into police and army stockades just to set off explosions?”

Bay shrugged that off. “Never let facts get in the way of a good story. Or a good explosion. I mean, can you see it? Ebola patients getting blown sky high and infecting other patients, who are just as eager to blow stuff up? This movie could set a record for explosions in a Michael Bay film. Can you imagine it all? Hundreds of thousands of Ebola patients setting off explosions across the world?”

“Are you drunk?” a Reuters correspondent asked.

“Not at all,” Bay said. “Stone cold sober!”

“Have you no decency?” the Reuters reporter pressed. “This disease is a brutal killer that has taken many lives, and you’re treating it as yet another popcorn movie for your demented explosion-lust.”

“And your point is?” Bay said with a shrug. “Look, the objections of someone like you doesn’t matter. The people love my movies and always come out and see what I’m doing, so that’s all that matters. What matters most of all is that I get to blow stuff up. That’s a good thing, man. And I get to have hot babes waxing cars for no reason, with a rock music underscore. I’ve got Aerosmith already working on the theme song. They’re calling it If I Have To Die Of Ebola, I Want To Die With You. That’s going to make waves in the music world! Without further ado, let me start introducing you to the cast. First, as our hero...” This reporter immediately made the assumption: Shia LaBeouf. “... the genius scientist with the CDC, Doctor Alexander “Scooter” Cooper, the man who has the fate of all humanity in his hands, I give you, Shia LaBeouf!”

This reporter wrote down We’re Doomed in his notepad. The actor strode out on stage, looking as dimwitted and foolish as we have come to expect of the little twit. Other reporters rolled their eyes and sighed in exasperation at being subjected yet again to the obnoxious presence of his presence.

“Hello! Shia thinks it is good of you to come!” LaBeouf announced, standing with Bay. “Shia is glad to see you!”  This reporter sighed. The little twit was still referring to himself in the third person. “Shia knows that the whole world wants to see Shia save the day!”

“And for his love interest, the hot babe White House press secretary Kelly Lane, ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Megan Fox!” Bay announced, still smiling like a buffoon.

Fox stepped out on stage in a cleavage baring dress barely covering the essentials. She smiled in her usual vacant way, blowing kisses, and joining Bay and LaBeouf. “I don’t know why the White House won’t return my calls,” she told reporters. “I really want to get in character and try giving a real briefing in the press room.”

Bay nodded. “We’ll get that sorted out really fast, Megan,” he promised. “Now then, we’re not quite done with our main cast yet. Playing the President of the United States, one of my favourite actors and one of yours, Mr. Jon Voight!”

Voight stepped out on stage, his usual contemptuous expression on his face. Or maybe he was just tired. It’s hard to tell, to be honest. “Michael, do I get to be a good President this time out, or am I a bumbler? Because if I’m a bumbler, that must mean I’m a Democrat president.”

Bay laughed as Voight joined the others by the podium. “Jon, we can’t give away plot details this soon in advance, you know. The last big player of the cast, this guy I know you know so well. He’s starred with me before, and no doubt he’ll star with me again. This time out I wanted him to play the villain. He’s going to be playing the deranged mad scientist who unleashes the Ebola Iowa strain on the world. Playing Doctor Magnus von Malice, I give you Nicolas Cage!”

Cage stepped out on stage, waving to the crowd, joining the others. His hairpiece was even stranger than usual. “Hey there, daddi-os! Great to see you all out and about today! It’s a great day to be me, I gotta tell you, and it’s been awhile since I’ve played a villain. So I’m looking forward to playing this guy. It’s gonna be a wild ride.”

Bay smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cast of Ebola: Countdown To Doomsday, coming to theatres real soon! We’re gonna score huge at the box office, and we’re gonna get ourselves a whole mess of Oscars, because hey, we deserve it!”

Bay and his actors left the stage. Reporters spoke among themselves about what would no doubt be a catastrophic exercise in stupidity, and speculated on the chances that the director and the cast would do the world a favour and become infected with Ebola. We wondered if there was a cure for stupidity, but had to concede that the epidemic in question had already overtaken the planet centuries ago. The sort of stupidity that makes an editor send out a reporter for an assignment he didn’t want in the first place, and can’t understand why... (do I need to remind you of that uncontrollable laughter when my brother-in-law was referring to my mother-in-law’s generous spirit? ~ editor)

Oh, yes, that. You really do know how to hold a grudge, you know...