My Money Is On Urkel To Die First

Some links to see to first off. Take a peek at Norma's blog for a couple of things she's mixed up in at the moment, including a contest and a giveaway. At Bondi Resort, there's a post about a place in central Ontario that I've never seen before, but you have to see it to believe it. And check out our joint blog for a Musical Interludes post that asks a question about a familiar Christmas song. Also, click on the photo-kitty to the right; tomorrow is City Daily Photo Theme Day, and I'll have a post ready to go before morning. Now then, every once in awhile I write something that makes me wonder, "oh, dear God, have I gone too far with this one?" Judge for yourselves...

Network Crosses The Line In Announcing New Celebrity Reality Series

Los Angeles (AP) Pundits and experts in ethics are discussing a new series announced by NBC for the summer season. Concerns have been raised that the new series, entitled Celebrity Hunt, may be lowering the bar for reality television even lower and delving into profoundly unethical grounds. Reporters gathered for the unveiling of the new series this week, an announcement by Ryan Seacrest, otherwise known for being famous for no actual reason.

Seacrest flashed that big smile of his as he stepped up to the podium. “You know, before we bring our cast out, I’d just like to thank the networks for giving me work. I mean, I’m worth millions of dollars, and for the life of me, I don’t know why. And I’d also like to thank the California legislature for passing the Removal Of Liability For Incidental Reality Television Deaths Act last week. It’s made Celebrity Hunt possible. Without it, the studio would never stand up under lawsuits for wrongful deaths. And since I’m one of the forty seven producers for this series, I’d be liable to be sued too!” He smiled again, as if expecting applause. There was none.

“Okay, this is taking things in a bold new direction for reality television, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve already seen things out there like Survivor, Temptation Island, The Bachelor, Who Wants To Sleep With A Billionaire, Duck Dynasty, Celebrity Apprentice, and Dancing With The Stars. Well, this one’s going to leave them all behind. This series is going to push the envelope for how far you can go, because you can never go too far. This winter, Celebrity Hunt is going to be on everyone’s minds. People will talk about this for decades to come. And I get to be host! Isn’t that great?”

Again, he seemed to be waiting for applause. None of the reporters clapped. “Well then, the concept is very simple. We’ve got ourselves a large tropical island, and the infrastructure already in place. There are cameras all over the place that will film everything. We’re going to drop our celebrities all over the island so they can be ready for the game to begin. Now without further ado, let’s start bringing out our cast. They are the cream of the cream of celebrity life, a real A-list of talent. First off, you loved to be annoyed by him when he played Urkel in Family Matters. Please welcome back Jaleel White!”

Jaleel White stepped out on stage… not dressed like his former geek character, fortunately. He looked around at the reporters, joined Seacrest, and muttered, “I really needed the work. There are these guys who are gonna break my knees if I don’t pay them back their hundred grand in sixty days.”

Seacrest laughed. “Isn’t he just a joker, folks? Next, from The Jersey Shore, we bring you Snooki, The Situation, and Jwoww!”

The trio of overly tanned obnoxious MTV rejects came out on stage. To be more precise, they stumbled out. The Situation bellowed, “Where’s the booze?”

“It’s coming, it’s coming,” Seacrest promised. “Next, ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Johnny Knoxville and Tom Arnold!”

The former Jackass star and the ex-husband of Roseanne Barr came out on stage and stood with the rest of the group. Looking around at the other reporters, this reporter saw the same look of disdain and befuddlement on their faces that he felt. How could such people be considered the A-list? “Do I have to throw myself off the stage while on fire?” Knoxville asked. “Because my doctor tells me the next time I do anything remotely resembling a stupid stunt, it might well kill me.”

Seacrest shrugged. “Next, we’ve got Hulk Hogan!”

The reporters sighed and collectively rolled their eyes. The former wrestling champion came out on stage, flexing his muscles and tearing off his shirt. “Whatcha gonna do when Hulk Hogan… what was the rest of that line again?” He looked at Seacrest. “I might have a lot of debts to pay off since I got hosed in the divorce, but there are limits to what I can do these days, brother… I mean, my knees are shot from years of being thrown out of the ring and bodyslamming four hundred pound guys.”

“Oh, come on, Hulk, you’ll be just fine!” Seacrest assured him, and Hogan took a place with the others. “Now then, for our cranky older person, we thought of bringing in Professor Stephen Hawking, but his creepy computer voice told us to go to hell, said he had important things to do, and seemed to think that reality shows are a blight. So we went with Plan B. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Joan Rivers!”

The octogenarian comedian came out on the stage and took a bow. “Hey, how are you? Can we talk?” She stood with the rest of the cast.

“And if that’s not enough, we’ve got more,” Seacrest proclaimed. “We thought of getting Jon and Kate Gosselin in for this, but they’re too busy screaming at each other. So we took things to the next level. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Kardashian family!”

Out onto the stage came Kris Jenner with her daughters Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe Kardashian. Kim, recently widowed following the bizarre death by meteorite of her baby daddy Kanye West, has been recently dating John Mayer. There is a betting pool how long that will last. Kris, the Mommy Dearest of the vile reality show pestilence family, beamed as she came out. “You know, I’ve always believed one can never have too much exposure. So the Kardashians are back and we’re a united front. And we’re getting ourselves in on whatever this show is about. I don’t know, we didn’t really pay too much attention when we were signing the contracts.”

“And we thank you for that, ladies,” Seacrest assured them. “For our final cast members, folks, this is a special treat. Sure, you might have rolled your eyes anytime you heard their music, or you might have wondered who was strangling the cat. But the music did its job: it stuck itself squarely in your head, from where there was no escape and no respite for your brain. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Michael Bolton and Billy Ray Cyrus!”

The singers came out on stage, looking puzzled. They approached the podium. “You know, you and I ought to do a duet,” Cyrus suggested to Bolton. “Maybe re-record an updated version of Achy Breaky Heart.”

“Or a new version of Time Love And Tenderness?” Bolton replied.

“Can you line dance to that one? My audience likes line dancing,” Cyrus said.

Kris Jenner was busy waving at Cyrus. “Hey, Billy Ray! I’m looking for a new sugar daddy! How about you and your daughter come join the Kardashian family?”

Seacrest took control of the press conference again. “Folks, I give you the cast members of Celebrity Hunt, the biggest series coming your way this winter. Now, if you’ll all go off stage again, we’ve got some prep work for you all to get to. Real important stuff and all that.”

The cast members filed off, and after a few moments, Seacrest looked out at the reporters. “Now then, now that they’re out of earshot, the premise of Celebrity Hunt takes its premise from the story The Most Dangerous Game, which of course is a man hunting man story. What these celebrities don’t know is that they’re going to be the hunted. That leaves us with the hunter. We had thought of bringing in Chuck Norris to be the hunter. It turns out, however, that despite endless internet memes passing him off as some invincible warrior even at this point in his life, the truth is that his hips are shot, his eyesight is fading, his bladder is unpredictable, and he spends his afternoons yelling at kids to get off his lawn. Oh, wait, he told us not to say that publicly. Sorry, Chuck! So, well, Chuck is out. So we thought of someone else for our hunter, a really dangerous one. And one name came to mind. He’s already waiting on the island as we speak. He is the most dangerous being on the face of the earth, and I’d dare say in the entire cosmos. So dangerous he doesn’t even need a gun to hunt. His glare and his teeth are all the weapons he needs. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Fluffy... Destroyer of Worlds.”

How To Destroy Your Career And Reputation 101

Some items to see to before we get started today. First, go on over to Norma's  Wordpress blog or over to her Blogger page if you prefer, for her follow up on the DespicaBlimp, and give her a comment. And second, check out our joint blog, where we had fun with wedding humour.  Yes, it's Mawwiage, as Peter Cook would call it. Have a look, and leave us a comment!

Now then, you knew this was coming, didn't you?

Don’t Tell My Achy Breaky Career Meltdown

Calgary (CP). Miley Cyrus turned up in Calgary this week for a concert, mere days after her eyebrow raising appearance at the VMAs. Cyrus, the one-time Hannah Montana star, stunned audiences with her behaviour, particularly during a duet with singer Robin Thicke, in which she did lewd things with her tongue, bumped and grinded against the singer (who happens to be twice her age), stripped down to a flesh coloured bikini outfit, and pleasured herself on stage with a novelty oversized glove.

Cyrus is the daughter of infamous singer Billy Ray Cyrus, who gave the world a reason to think fingernails on a blackboard sounded better when he recorded Achy Breaky Heart. She spent her formative years being thrown into the spotlight by Disney and her parents in the Hannah Montana television show and related spinoffs and merchandising efforts. Since then, she has been spending her time living that show down, acting out in a variety of outlandish ways, trying to cast herself more as an adult figure and move her singing career in other directions. She’s also been seen at many a party, getting drunk and getting photographed in all the wrong ways.

Her on again off again fiancé, actor Liam Hemsworth has seemingly had enough. He has returned to his home in Australia, and has requested the Australian government to deny Miley any entry to the land Down Under.  “He’s really just had enough of the endless circus,” Hemsworth’s agent told reporters. “Liam’s a down to earth kind of guy, and the endless cries for attention by Miley, pointless look at me behaviour, and self destructive streak was getting to him. Actually, I’m surprised he put up with it after she had a penis cake made for his birthday.”

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Cyrus told reporters gathered in a convention center here.  This reporter was among them, being punished by being made to speak with a halfwit entertainer all because he happened to break out laughing during the funeral of his editor’s mother-in-law.  “I mean, so I like to have a little fun. What’s the problem with that? And so what if I like to be a little exhibitionist? That doesn’t give Will Smith the right to judge me, after all. I mean, seriously, he’s the one who brought those two talentless kids of his into the world, and if I know anything, it’s about talentless kids.” She looked around at the reporters. “Wait a minute, that might not have been what I meant to say.”

“Miley! Miley!” a reporter called out. “Any truth to the rumour that your father is a member of the Mulletus Demonicus class of demons from the seventh circle of Hell?”

Cyrus appeared stunned. “Who told you that...? I mean, that’s ridiculous!”

“What are your plans while you’re in Calgary?” a reporter with the Calgary Herald asked.

“Well, you know, I want to take in the Stampede...”

“That was a month ago,” the Herald reporter pointed out.

“It was?” Miley seemed confused. This reporter wondered if she had already been drinking. "You don't imagine they'd put it on just for me, do you? Oh, never mind. Well, I've got a concert going on. Before then, I'll probably go on a pub crawl with fifty of my closest friends. Liam would be there, but for some reason that I don't really understand, he's not returning my calls." 

“Miss Cyrus, what would you say to those who feel you’re on a road to complete self destruction?” this reporter asked. “How do you address the concerns that you need help, that these endless acting out and stunts of misbehaviour are not a good sign?”

She appeared annoyed. “I would say anyone who thinks that is sadly mistaken.” This reporter rolled his eyes. “Look, all I’m doing is having a little fun. Just like that Sheryl Crow song. You know the one that I...” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to be looking beyond the crowd of reporters. “Hey, wait! You! Wait!”

She burst through the crowd, walking towards a Mountie who was passing through the center. This reporter recognized him. So did many others. It was Inspector Lars Ulrich, back in Alberta after being overseas assisting in the investigation of the Yorkshire Terrier Of The Baskervilles case in Britain. He saw the oncoming Miley Cyrus and the horde of reporters following her. The look in his eyes suggested he had been trying to get past the crowd unseen, and was annoyed to have been spotted.

Cyrus threw an arm around the shoulder of the Inspector, who looked around, as if seeking a way out, when the press corps surrounded them. “Hi there! What’s a girl got to do to get a Mountie up on stage during her performances?” Cyrus asked, oblivious to the expression of annoyance from the Inspector. “Listen, I’ve got an idea for a stage performance. You’re up on stage while I’m singing whatever song I feel like at that moment. I’ll be busy taking off more and more of my clothes as the song goes on... I like doing that these days, and I’m up there with two of my backup singers, and we’re all thrusting and grinding and twerking with you. It’ll be great, just great. What do you think?”

“Who the hell are you?” Ulrich asked in a low, menacing voice. Those few among the press corps who consider ourselves actual journalists stepped back.

“I’m Miley Cyrus!” she exclaimed. “Everyone knows who I am! Oh, don’t kid. You know exactly who I am. By the way, do those uniforms you Mounties wear tear off easily? Because that would sort of be the point...”

“Lars! Lars!” This reporter glanced over at his colleague from the Herald, who was speaking. Ulrich glared at him, as if wondering if he was going to ask an inane question. “Professor Tobias Merkley has made a suggestion in a column today that I’d like your opinion on. Merkley is publishing a book he calls The Fourth Wall Conundrum. He theorizes that none of this is actually real, that we are all merely fictional characters, the creation of a man typing at a computer. Furthermore, he suggests that you, Inspector, are the pivotal focus point of that man beyond the Fourth Wall, and that man enjoys torturing you by writing you into situations where you’re around entertainment reporters. What do you say to that?”

Ulrich sighed in dismay. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” the reporter assured the Inspector.

“Well, you come along on my pub crawl with my personal closest friends, the Mountie, and I, and I can do something about that,” Cyrus suggested.

Another reporter spoke up. “Lars! Alex Andrews, Hollywood Now. Will Miley be doing a duet with Metallica?”

Ulrich pushed forward and grabbed him by the throat. “I am not that Lars Ulrich, you insufferable moron!”

Andrews appeared confused. “Ah, travelling incognito, not wanting to let people know Metallica is in town? I get it, Lars. Bravo, very well thought out. But it still doesn’t answer my que..." 

Andrews never got a chance to finish his question. The Inspector hit him squarely across the jaw, sending him falling into a crowd of other reporters. He dragged Andrews away by the heel, heading off in the direction of the Bow River. Miley Cyrus called after him, "So is that a no to doing a strip tease with me for the concert?"