Revenge Of The Washed Up Athlete

Infamous Ex-Football Player To Be Released, Already Making Plans For Post Jail Life

Reno, NV (AP) O.J. Simpson, the former football player turned two bit actor turned occasional TV pitchman turned suspect in the overblown “trial of the century” in regards to the 1994 murder of his former wife Nicole Brown and her friend Ron Goldman, is back in the news. A parole hearing in recent days has secured his release from a Nevada jail in October, a hearing that was noted for the soft ball questions and fawning attitude of the hearing members towards the infamous convict.

Simpson, who has been doing time for armed robbery at the Lovelock Correctional  Center after a debacle at a hotel casino, has been described as the first reality star, for the way his murder trial captivated the country each day- even if, as a washed up athlete and not very good actor, he didn’t merit the attention. He’s been lauded by some, treated as a pariah by others, and even while avoiding conviction the first time around, didn’t heed enough of a lesson to avoid trouble the second time around, and so wound up in prison for a bumbling attempt to recover his own items.

Now he is soon to be released from prison, a seventy year old shadow of what he used to be, still deflecting responsibility, claiming during the hearing that he’s led a “conflict free life.” The board granted him his freedom as of October in a session highly criticised by some for the lack of hard questions and indulging of the convict. Simpson has spent his time in prison mostly staying out of trouble, aside from a couple of death threats to an unnamed reporter, managing a softball team behind bars, and avoiding anger management courses.

“Damn right I’m ready to get outta here,” Simpson told this reporter by phone from Lovelock. “You got any ****ing idea how ****ing boring jail is? Because I’ll tell you, mother****er, it’s really ****ing boring. No HBO, no access from entertainment show reporters, no strippers, no booze... it’s like they’re trying to keep you in here without letting you have any ****ing fun!”

Asked what his plans were once he gets out of prison, Simpson paused. “Well, first I gotta get back to Florida, because God knows I’m safe there from those money grubbing ****ers who want to take away my money. Yeah, I’m talking about those ****ers who won that civil suit against me. Civil ****ing suit, my ****ing ass! Then it’s what is the Juice gonna do with his time? That’s the big question that every ****ing ****er out there wants to ****ing know.”

As to the answer? “Well, I thought about getting the **** back into football. Who wouldn’t want the Juice back on the team? Even if I am seventy? I could coach a team! Turns out every single team in the ****ing NFL told me to go **** myself.” This reporter wondered if Simpson was aware of how much he tended to swear. “So then I thought, why not make The Naked Gun 4? Sure, Leslie Nielsen is dead, but you could always have Nordberg as the lead! I mean, what Hollywood starlet wouldn’t jump at the chance to play opposite me? Turns out the ****ing studio told me to go **** myself when I called with the suggestion. Buncha ****ing ingrates. Don’t think I won’t forget being rejected like that when I get out, because I never forget, mother****er!”

Another pause by the one-time star turned notorious convict. “Y’know, here’s what it comes down to. I always said I’d go after the real killer. Which I intend to get to. Right after I find out who really did that armed robbery thing, because let’s face it, priorities, am I right? Which is why I’m announcing today, right here, mother****er, that when I get out, I’m opening up a private investigation firm with my buddy. My pal. You can trust the PI firm of Simpson & Kaelin with your case.”

Kaelin, in this case, is Kato Kaelin, the professional moocher and even more obscure reality show figure who was a hanger on and witness at the 1995 murder trial. The failed actor, reality show participant, and radio personality has been scratching out a living for the last ten years traveling to conventions and charging people twenty bucks to hit him in the face. “It turns out a lot of people don’t like me,” Kaelin told this reporter, still looking like the couch surfing dazed, baffled, and perpetually rumpled surfer dude, only twenty years older, that he was during the trial. Though these days, his face looks quite battered.  “Not enough to make me rich, but enough to pay the bills. On the other hand, did you know bruises don’t really heal when you’re being repeatedly hit again in the face two days after the last time?” 

Another hanger-on at the trial, often present in court, was the former wife of one of Simpson’s lawyers. Infamous in her own right, Kris Jenner, the reality show matriarch who’s made a career out of being famous for being famous with her brood of half-wit children, spent a considerable amount of time in court watching the 1995 trial. Her offspring of Kardashian and Jenner narcissists, have spent the last few years getting attention for the sake of getting attention, while avoiding doing anything of particular merit. Kris was smiling in that plastic surgery has limited my ability to smile kind of way when this reporter found her. “O.J.’s getting out of jail! Finally! What a travesty of injustice that he was ever locked up! Think of how I can fit this into the next season of Keeping Up With The Kardashians if I persuade him to move in! Think of the opportunity! Hell, just getting to **** him again will be a lot of fun! Wait, did I say that out loud?”

Back to the man of the hour, who doesn’t seem to understand that a newly paroled convict might get a problem acquiring a private investigator license. “**** that! I can get whatever the **** I want! Nobody says no to the Juice, mother****er! ‘Cause when I get out, I’m gonna get me a license. Then I’m gonna get me a ****ing gun! Then I’m gonna find that ****ing reporter ****er out there who ****ing told people I was gonna ****ing kill him, and then I’m gonna ****ing settle the ****ing score with him, mother****er!”

The call was cut short. This reporter sighed and hung up, wondering how long it would take before the disgraced has-been inevitably finds himself back in trouble with the law. Perhaps within two months. 

The Extra Short Orange Running Mate

Washed Up Reality Television Star Expresses Ambitions While Being Oblivious To Reality

New York (AP) With the Democratic National Convention getting started this week, and Hillary Clinton often going on and on about what she calls “her precious”, all eyes are on Philadelphia, where the party will be giving the former Secretary of State what she has always wanted- the nomination for the presidency and her ticket to power. There has been much speculation as to who Clinton would be designating as her Vice President. Some more cynical observers have noted that the Vice President would be far more important than usual given the inevitable impeachment of President Clinton (the Second).

Numerous Democrats have been jockeying for the position, while party operatives have been trying to push other names. Elizabeth Warren has been set aside, given concerns by the candidate that she would be constantly upstaged by “someone more likable than me.” Bernie Sanders, who gave Hillary a run for her money throughout the campaign before finally throwing in the towel, has been set aside as a possible contender, given the fact that the two dislike each other. Ultimately the task- and perhaps the future presidency- was given to Senator Tim Kaine of Virginia.

It wasn’t just Democrats trying to get the job. Last week, in the midst of the Republican convention, members of the press were summoned to a press conference in New York by an enigmatic invitation alluding to the Democratic Vice Presidency. Gathered together in a hall at the Javits Center, reporters speculated as to who might be trying to make their own bid at the proverbial second chair. Might Joe Biden be making a second go at the job? Or even odder, did Bill Clinton himself want the job? 

Finally a spokesperson came out on stage, calling for the attention of the assembled media.  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” the woman said as she stepped up to the podium. “Without further ado, well, here she is. She really needs no introduction, because everyone knows her and loves her.”

The spokesperson stepped aside. Music started to blare- some sort of house music or hip hop; this reporter really can’t tell the difference. And out onto the stage walked a short woman with big hair and orange tanned skin. Reporters gasped, rolled their eyes, and found themselves wondering how a washed up reality show star from Jersey Shore could have managed to assemble them all together under false pretenses.

She was Nicole Polizzi, otherwise known to the world as Snooki.

Waving to the crowd, totally oblivious to the eye rolling, sighs of dismay, and shaking of heads, Snooki strode up to the podium, only to find that she couldn’t see over the top. “Damn it!” she blurted out, reaching up and managing to grab the mike. “Who the **** didn’t put a step stool here like I asked?”

Snooki came out from behind the podium, glared at her spokesperson, who stood at least a foot taller than her, and then faced the media, pasting on her vacant grin with the dimwitted expression in her eyes. “Hey there!” she called out, waving again. “Thanks for coming!”

“Are you just wasting our time?” one reporter inquired of her.

Snooki looked confused. “Why do people keep asking me that?”

“Because it’s a pretty reasonable assumption,” this reporter said.

“Look, no, no ****ing way,” she assured the reporters. “Am I the sort of person who’d waste your time? No, of course not. I mean, what am I, a Kardashian?” This reporter rolled his eyes, wondering what would be more tedious and annoying, sitting through this or sitting through a drunken ramble by one of the Kardashians. “By the way, are we broadcasting live?”

“No, we’re not,” one of the television reporters replied for all of her colleagues, looking at her watch, no doubt wondering, as this reporter was, how long she might have to put up with this sort of nonsense from a washed up MTV star.

“Well you’ll wish you were,” Snooki promised. “Because I’m here to announce my candidacy for the Vice President of the United States, on the Democratic ticket with my BFF Hillary.”

Reporters stifled laughter. One asked, “BFF? Have you ever actually met her?”

Snooki shrugged. “No, but what the **** difference does that make anyway?”

This reporter spoke up. “First of all, under the rules, a Presidential candidate and their team select a Vice Presidential candidate. A person doesn’t just come out of nowhere and say they’re going to name drop themselves as a Vice Presidential candidate. Second, you’re not known for politics. You’re known for a multitude of bad reality shows on a network that used to run music videos, for getting drunk and in trouble, and, to put it mildly, for being an idiot.”

“Hey, guido, don’t you call me names,” Snooki replied.

“Guido?” this reporter challenged the idiot.

“That’s what I call everybody. Guido, wop, douchebag, whatever slang term comes to mind,” Snooki explained. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I can bring the young beach going Jersey vote to Hillary for the big win in November. All she has to do is say pretty please, Snooki, and promise to let me be president one day out of every week. ‘Cause I’d like to send the Navy SEALS to bust up the Situation’s ass.” She was grinning with maniacal glee, in a way that suggested she wasn’t quite playing with a full deck.

“You can’t be serious,” another reporter objected.

“Of course I am,” Snooki declared. “And you know what else I can do as Vice President. Say Hillary needs Bill outta her hair? I can keep the First Dude distracted. Pretty much the same way Monica kept him distracted. I really am the perfect choice for the job. I’ve got attitude, street smarts, a great rep with all the hip people, and I’ve got orange skin. I can be the anti-Trump. Anyway, that’s my announcement. Hillary, have your people call my people, and we’ll do lunch!”

She left the stage, and reporters found themselves snickering, sighing, shaking their heads, and wondering if they’d woken up in some pocket universe where reality had gone haywire. Of course, with the other party fielding a candidate who’d spent his own years in reality television, the world had already gone haywire long before now.

The last word goes to an unnamed member of the Clinton campaign, a distinguished older fellow using the codename El Cigaro. He laughed off the offer by Snooki. “You know, as much as I’d enjoy being distracted... I mean, as much as Bill would enjoy being distracted by Snooki in that fashion, her bein’ the Vice Presidential candidate? It just isn’t gonna happen. Hillary, or the ol’ ball and chain as I like to call her, shook her head, said something like, Hell no, and then started muttering, my precious, my precious, it’s mine, they stoles it froms us. You know, between you and me and Monica, she might be gettin’ a little bit obsessive about the whole thing. Don’t tell her I said that, okay? She’s got me by the short hairs.”

Downfall Of A Mad Scientist

Some links before getting started. Norma is doing an interview with me which can be found at Blogger and Wordpress. Parsnip had some photos. And Eve continues to do the A-Z challenge.

Now then, earlier this month I posted a blog about a certain mad scientist. This, therefore, is the follow up.

Mad Scientist Super Villain Foiled By Cranky Lawman; Vows That He Will Have His Revenge

Calgary (CP). After days of posturing and making multiple threats, mad scientist Magnus Von Malice was taken into custody and charged with multiple criminal charges. The super villain, who claimed responsibility for the recent re-emergence of numerous dead Z-list celebrities, and threatened to unleash a plague of them upon the earth if his demands were not met, was in a foul mood while appearing in court and being told he had no prospects of making bail.

“You can’t do this to me!” he bellowed at a judge in a court in Calgary, Canada, while being restrained by court guards and security personnel. “I’ll get you for this! Nobody does this to Magnus Von Malice and lives to see next year!”

Von Malice, graduate of the Zeppelin Von Blood Academy For Ethically Challenged Scholars, had created technology allowing him to pierce the time stream and remove several dead celebrities from the moment before their deaths, creating a temporal paradox in which one version of them died and the other was left to live. He also enlisted a horde of living Z-list celebrities willing to do his bidding. “He told us he could make sure we’d stay famous,” former Beverly Hills 90210 star Luke Perry explained to reporters. “How could we not sign up with him? I mean, seriously, I’ve got guys who want to break my knees if I don’t pay them six figures by the end of the month... which reminds me, does anyone have a couple hundred grand they can lend me?”

David Hasselhoff, the Kardashian-Jenner sisters, Ian Ziering, Tara Reid, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, and others have been among the previously believed dead celebrities to have returned from the dead in recent days. Aside from Ziering and Reid, the others met a bad end at the teeth of the most dangerous being in the entire galaxy.

Von Malice’s evil plan terrified the world. Leaders around the planet speculated on the potential plague a horde of Z-list celebrities could cause across the world. Entertainment journalists gushed about the prospect of 24 hours a day coverage of Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills taking over the International Criminal Court. The people of Denmark worried that they would be reduced to serving as life sized chess pieces for Von Malice and his right hand man Igor. And Russian President Vladimir Putin, who has been busy making trouble in the Ukraine ever since losing face and bawling like a baby when his attempt to take over the world failed miserably at the closing ceremonies of the Sochi Olympics, offered to arm wrestle Von Malice if the rest of the world handed over all security and banking codes to his safekeeping.

The rest of the world, meanwhile, gave Putin the finger and, and requested real help: the man who reduced Putin to tears at that aforementioned Olympics. RCMP Inspector Lars Ulrich, the legendary Mountie, world’s most dangerous man, and thoroughly cranky lawman, was enlisted in the effort to hunt down Von Malice. The Canadian government grudgingly allowed his participation. “Admittedly, the Prime Minister hates the Inspector,” a spokesperson for the Canadian Department of Justice told reporters on the condition of keeping their name off the record. “On the one hand, the Inspector once kicked his ass when he became a hundred foot giant on a rampage. On the other hand, deep down, the Prime Minister really is a gutless coward who doesn’t like being reminded that he’s a gutless coward, and courage by others reminds him of that. Inspector Ulrich having had saved the world on multiple occasions certainly reminds him of how much of a snivelling cretin he really is. Did I mention we really want to see this government turfed out in the next election?”

It was confirmed afterwards that the entire operation was kept secret until it was all over. Reports that the Inspector was busy hunting down a former Entertainment Tonight correspondent through Alberta and Saskatchewan were circulated to explain his absence during the operation. “I was happy to help by lying low and keeping out of sight, pretending to be hunted by a relentless Mountie,” Chip Braun told reporters at his Seattle radio station, where he co-hosts Chip And Zonker In The Morning with Zach “Zonker” Kazlowski. “I mean, I learned my lesson the first time when I mistook him for that Metallica drummer. The Inspector beating the living daylights out of me seemed to have knocked some sense into me. I quit the Hollywood star circuit, got into the radio business, and I’m up every day at the crack of dawn making jokes about vomit and teasing the traffic guy every five minutes. If you ask me, it’s a step up.”

Ulrich moved swiftly with the assistance of law enforcement agencies worldwide. Within two days, Ulrich tracked the mad scientist, who had set up his operations in a former Reform Party campaign compound in British Columbia. Preston Manning, the mentor of Prime Minister Harper and leader of the Reform Party that later ended up hijacking the Conservatives in Canada, denied any connection to the super villain. “Look, you can’t go around making unfounded accusations about the party we rednecks founded back in the day,” Manning insisted to reporters.  “Just because Magnus was one of our biggest contributors and helped draft policy doesn’t mean... wait, did I say that out loud?”

The RCMP issued a statement about what transpired next. The Inspector went in with backup, but not in the form of other Mounties. His backup was a small dog, later confirmed to be Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds, the same dog who mauled, annihilated, and destroyed two sets of Z-list celebrities in the Celebrity Hunt reality shows. “Fluffy didn’t like that Von Malice cheated him out of a few well earned maulings by messing around with the time stream,” spokesperson Constable Alison Churchill told reporters. “So he had a score to settle. And frankly, Fluffy and Lars understand each other. Kindred spirits, as Lucy Maud Montgomery would say. They’re both cranky.”

Ulrich and Fluffy infiltrated Von Malice’s secret headquarters by kicking the doors in. While Fluffy contented himself with destroying Von Malice’s time machine, Ulrich spent his time beating the mad scientist into a bloody pulp. Churchill confirmed that Von Malice was dragged out by the foot by Ulrich, while Fluffy barked at him in a vicious fury. Von Malice was protesting repeatedly about the Inspector having the audacity to hit a man with glasses, and swearing revenge. “Inspector Ulrich told him in some colourful language, well... to shut up. That’s as much as I can say without setting off swear word bleeping,” Churchill explained.

In the aftermath, the machinery that allowed Von Malice to access time is beyond repair. Von Malice faces numerous charges, which he refuses to acknowledge, telling the judge in open court, “this isn’t the last you’ve heard of Magnus Heinrich Von Malice! I’ll be revenged!” And the Inspector has returned to life as usual in his detachment in the Alberta foothills. Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds, has moved on to Skull Island, where he is busy making King Kong cry.

One problem lingers. The destruction of the device did not send the previously dead Z-list celebrities back into the timestream.  They walk around again, alive and well, demanding attention, seeking to ink deals with reality shows. They speak of making sequels to cheesy films for cheesy networks. Ian Ziering and Tara Reid are busy making another Sharknado film. Ziering managed to get a role for his former castmate Luke Perry. “I’ve gotta tell you, I’m glad I got this part,” Perry told reporters after learning the news. “The bookies aren’t going to break my legs now.”

Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kendall, and Kylie- the horde of talentless twits making up the Kardashian-Jenner sisters, are already planning a new season of reality shows and turning up on thousands of tabloid covers for the next three years. They say they are pleased that Von Malice didn’t resurrect their mother or Kim’s late husband Kanye, who died last year when he was hit by a meteorite. “To be honest,” Kim told reporters while shopping at Saks. “Our mother was an insufferable self absorbed buffoon. And to be even more brutally honest, I was bored out of my mind being married to that egotistical ass. I mean, there’s only room in this world for one inflated ego, and that’s me. By the way, don’t quote me on that, I’m still trying to secure every single cent I can get out of his estate.”

Von Malice stews in a jail cell tonight, still nursing his wounds after being beaten up by the world’s most dangerous man. No doubt he dreams of revenge. No doubt he already has a plan of escape. And no doubt the world’s most dangerous man will be there to kick his ass yet again.

Just don’t ask the Inspector if he’s taking time off from Metallica.

Never Trust A Mad Scientist

Some links before getting started today. Norma wrote about Wrestlemania at her blog. Krisztina had Easter dessert ideas. Parsnip had her Monday feature.

Now then, for something entirely different....

Mad Scientist Unleashes Plague On Earth, Basks In Insanity

New York (AP). As if current threats like the machinations of Russian President Vladimir Putin, terrorist groups such as ISIS and Boka Harem, and jaywalking senior citizens in Boise weren’t enough, the world has one more vile threat facing it this day.

The mystery began with the recent reappearances of Z-list celebrities believed to have died, coming out in public. David Hasselhoff, who was presumed dead while participating in the follow-up to Celebrity Hunt, mauled at the teeth of the ferocious Fluffy Destroyer of Worlds, was seen in San Diego throwing up cheeseburgers on the beach and slurring his words. Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney Kardashian, the trio of sisters known for participating in endless narcissistic sideshows, also presumed dead in the original Celebrity Hunt, crashed a party in Beverly Hills, announcing a new season of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

Their half sisters Kendall and Kylie Jenner, presumed dead in the Celebrity Hunt follow-up, were seen stealing the spotlight at the brand new People Magazine Awards show, drinking Scotch and doing wardrobe malfunction photo shoots. And Ian Ziering and Tara Reid, slaughtered by Killer Rabbits while doing a Sharknado publicity tour in Scotland, were seen at the announcement for the next Sharknado, smiling in the same blithering stupid way as always. None of the particular celebrities offered any explanation for why they were alive; this was particularly troublesome given that Ziering and Reid’s deaths were graphically witnessed by reporters, and particularly gruesome.

An explanation was forthcoming. Magnus Von Malice, the super-villain and deranged scientist who has picked up some of the slack after the demise of Muppet super-villain Mr. Johnson and the arrests of the Dark Cabal of entertainment reporters who tried to take over the world, showed his hand. Von Malice issued a cryptic statement sent to the media taking responsibility for the returns of the dead celebrities, with questions about the appalling lack of ethics in an insane super-villain coming up afterwards.

“People of the world! I am Doctor Magnus Von Malice!” he bellowed in a dramatic voice, laughing in a suitably maniacal way. Not much about where he was could be made out from the video footage. He looked dishevelled and deranged, as if he wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. His long black hair, streaked with silver, was askew, as if he’d been in a wind tunnel. “You might be wondering why certain dead celebrities have risen up from the grave. You might ask yourselves why David Hasselhoff lives again, despite meeting a grisly end thanks to the most dangerous being in the solar system.”

He smiled in a malevolent way. “Well, I will tell you how it has happened. I am the reason they have returned from the grave! I, the most malevolent scientist to ever graduate from the Zeppelin Von Blood Academy For Ethically Challenged Scholars. Only a genius of my level could master the technology and devise the method to bring them back!” The statement went on for forty five minutes of personal self-congratulations and otherwise boasting of his vast intelligence before he got to the heart of the matter.

“I have spent years building my organization, lending assistance to my fellow megalomaniacs when needed, building connections, experimenting in things that would cross the ethical lines for any scientist who never attained the heights I have attained. One of my many devious schemes led me to this point,” he explained, laughing yet again in that unsettling maniacal way of his. “I was able to breach time itself. I was able to reach into time and pluck people from the moment just before their deaths. It split them off from themselves, leaving one to die as they were meant to, the other saved from the time stream. And so I have brought back David Hasselhoff, the Kardashian-Jenner sisters, Ian Ziering, and Tara Reid from the grisly deaths they suffered. And they are just the beginning. My technology will allow me to do the same with many more dead celebrities, and make use of them for my own ends.”

He sneered as if inviting anyone to challenge him, then shrugged. “There is, admittedly, something of a catch-22. I can only retrieve z-list dolts for my work. There’ll be no Humphrey Bogarts or Cary Grants or Katherine Hepburns coming back from the dead. Of course, that has an advantage in and of itself. You see, z-list celebrities annoy everyone. They’ll never go away. And I’ll make it permanent. A world of Kardashians and Hasselhoffs and Real Housewives of Los Angeles occupying every bit of attention and airwave and bandwith that they can, all the world over. Imagine such a plague of celebrity mediocrity, a legion of halfwit vaguely famous buffoons, all at my command!” Von Malice laughed again, leaving one with the impression that he’d lost most of his marbles.

“Here are my demands,” he continued. “In one week, I will have nine hundred billion dollars wired to specific accounts yet to be disclosed. With those funds will come an iron clad pledge that my acts will never be used against me. I will also be given control of the entire nation of, let’s see... what do I want today? Oh, yes! Denmark! All of Denmark will be handed over to me to use as I like. The Danes will act as my personal servants and playthings, and they should get used to being used as life sized chess pieces, because my right hand man Igor and I like playing chess.”

Von Malice nodded decisively. “If you do not do this, I will continue the process of bringing back pointless Z-list celebrities from the dead and inflicting them on the world at large. You will beg for mercy. And there will be none. They will march all over the world, being their vapid, vacant selves, and you will cry out in despair. And at your worst moment, when all seems hopeless, I will unleash the most annoying celebrity to ever walk the earth, either on this side or the other side of the grave.”

He smiled. “Yes, I will unleash Pauly Shore.”

The statement came to an end with Von Malice’s laughter. The screen faded to black. The United Nations went into emergency discussions to deal with the crisis.  The comedian Carrot Top issued a statement of his own, demanding to be included in the plague of celebrities.

World governments are busy devising responses to the crisis. Law enforcement agencies are hunting for answers on Von Malice, whose background is surprisingly scarce. Fears have been heightened across the globe. A plague of z-list celebrities marching across the entire world is not a welcome idea.

Many people wonder if anyone can thwart the unthinkable from happening. 

Vengeance Of The Destroyer Of Worlds

Some links before getting started today. Eve had a passage from her book Penniless Hearts. Parsnip had a mix of images at her blog. Shelly carried on with her Silly Santa story. Maria took a look at a Christmas cult classic. And Krisztina had this look at sugared cranberries.

Now then, today's post might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read this post first. And even then, it's a good idea to freshen the memory.

Producers Announce Second Version Of Peculiar Reality Show After Failure Of First Version

Los Angeles (AP) Jeff Probst and Mark Burnett, the producers of Survivor and other reality show drivel, made an announcement this week for a new program, picking up from the ashes of another reality show. Celebrity Hunt was an initiative from former producer Ryan Seacrest, currently serving a life sentence for his role in a plot for world domination undertaken by several entertainment journalism titans. The concept behind the show was to drop several washed up former celebrities on a deserted island, introduce a deadly hunter into the mix, and let nature take its course. The series never really got off the ground, however. It was reported that twenty minutes after the celebrities were dropped off on the island, all remote cameras in the vicinity were taken off line. Only one survivor, Joan Rivers, was found, floating in the Pacific Ocean and babbling about the demonic hound from hell. She never really recovered from the ordeal, passing away earlier in the year.

The remaining contestants have never been found, and the island itself was quarantined. Four members of the Kardashian family- Kim, Khloe, Kourtney, and Kris- were among their number. As were Hulk Hogan, Johnny Knoxville, Tom Arnold, Billy Ray Cyrus, Snooki, JWoww, The Situation, Jaleel White, and Michael Bolton. In the months since, not a word has been heard from any of them. Many would say that’s a good thing- a world without the Kardashians in it is much better.

Probst and Burnett appeared before the press, some of whom were real reporters, while others were entertainment reporters, and by extension, really, really stupid. Probst was spending time looking at himself in a mirror, reminding this reporter of the insufferable twit director Michael Bay. Burnett was looking smug and sanctimonious. His T-shirt read: I’m Married To Roma Downey, So I’m Right And You’re Wrong.

“It’s taken a lot of negotiation, but we’re going to be launching a new version of Celebrity Hunt,” Probst told the reporters. “It means going back to the island and finding out what really happened. Now we could send out soldiers or something like that to sort that out, but why not send out celebrities instead, have them carry cameras with them, and broadcast it to the world? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Burnett shrugged. “It’s not our fault that Seacrest dispatched Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds, onto that island to hunt the first batch of celebrities. How was he to know what would happen? I mean, the dog looks so harmless and cute, right?”

Probst nodded. “And besides, we’re not sure Fluffy really was behind whatever happened. We don’t really know what happened. All we know is that the cameras went offline and no one’s heard from anyone there since. I mean, for all we know they could be having an orgy.”

“Hey, watch what you say about that, Jeff,” Burnett told his creative partner. “I mean, I’ve got a whole lot of audience members for my religious miniseries work that would take exception to any mention of that sort of thing, you know.”

“Mark, lighten up,” Probst remarked.  “I mean come on, we’ve both produced Survivor, and that’s included naked butts of cranky players.”

“Good point,” Burnett admitted. “Anyway, so our idea, what with Seacrest being in prison... I mean, seriously, Ryan, what were you thinking, trying to take over the world? Our idea was to figure out the truth and film it with a cast of all star celebrities being dropped on that island.”

“And without further ado, let’s start bringing out our cast,” Probst told everyone. “Our first participants have a personal stake in all of this. They’re the other Kardashians, even if they’re not members of the Kardashian family. Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Kylie and Kendall Jenner!”

The two youngest daughters of the Kardashian-Jenner family came out and waved to the crowd. It’s been a rough year for the two, what with the mysterious disappearance of their mother and sisters, the grisly death of their sort of brother-in-law Kanye West, who died by fallen meteor, and their father becoming more and more mentally unstable. Regardless, they have continued to make their presence known in reality show circles, continuing to film the series Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Even if the rest of the family is gone. “Hi there,” Kylie called.

“We’re glad to be in on this,” Kendall exclaimed. “We have to find out what happened to Mom and Kim and the other two. Lots of photo ops left for all of us, you know. Plus Daddy seems to have broken into the liquor cabinet and gone on a bender.”

Burnett nodded. “Our next participant also has a personal stake in the matter at hand. Her father was one of the missing contestants in the first version. She’s had a lot of controversy coming her way in the last year, but she’s ready for a new challenge. I give you Miley Cyrus!”

Miley came out on stage, wearing what looked like a rubber bikini, sticking her tongue out, and waved to people. Then she twerked against both the Jenner sisters and grinned. “Eat your heart out, Liam!” she yelled, seemingly to her former boyfriend. “I’m gonna save my daddy and come back and they’re gonna give me a Medal of Honor for my performance!”

Probst and Burnett stared at her for a long moment, as if both were wondering if they’d made a mistake. Then Probst spoke again. “Our next participant has had some legal troubles across the world as of late, and needs something to occupy his time. We’re told he’s expecting to record a song for the soundtrack album of the series. Hopefully it’ll be less grating on the nerves than the rest of his music. Ladies and gentlemen, here’s Justin Bieber!”

The mop headed cretin stepped out on stage, waving to the crowd. “Baby baby baby!” he called in that high pitched nasal drone of his. “I’m so glad to be in on this, and it’s something that’s going to make a big impact, and I’m going to get back to big album sales and everyone falling at my feet, and being the biggest star of all time. Hey! Stop snickering!"

“Justin, just stay calm,” Burnett told him. “Now then, we’ve got other players who are going to be part of it. You’ll remember our next player from such sterling television series as Baywatch. She’s really anxious to get some attention for herself, so give a big round of applause for Pamela Anderson!”

Sure enough, she stumbled out on stage, looking half dazed. This reporter wondered if Pamela had been drinking before she came out. “Hi there! What day of the week is it?”

Probst went on. “Our next participant has been trying to get his music career back off the ground again, but thought he might do well in this kind of environment. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Axl Rose!”

The former front man of Guns N’ Roses stepped out on stage, looking rumpled and hung over. “Hello, Miami!” he bellowed.

“We’re in Los Angeles, Axl,” Burnett told him.

“We are?” Rose asked.

Burnett sighed. “Rounding out our group of celebrities, he’s our main man, our touchstone actor. He’s famous all over the world for his music and his acting, taken seriously where ever he goes. You’ve seen him in such series as Knight Rider and Baywatch. You’ve seen him in drunken binge videos eating cheeseburgers. Ladies and gentlemen, David Hasselhoff!”

A groan of dismay rose up from the reporters. Hasselhoff came out on stage, waving, oblivious to their disdain. “Hello!” he called. “Of course you had to come out and see me! Nobody hassles the Hoff, after all! Not even Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds!” He smiled in that vacant, not much going on between the ears way of his. No one has ever accused David Hasselhoff of being all that smart.

Probst smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, the cast of Celebrity Hunt. These brave men and women are going to be going all out on our mysterious island figuring out what happened to the first batch of celebrities, and running for their lives from Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds.”

Hasselhoff laughed as he and the rest of the cast left the stage with Probst and Burnett. “Oh, I’m going to be eating Fluffy for breakfast!”

Post Script: Three Weeks Later

The island now being called Isla Fluffia Destroya has been quarantined once again. Authorities have denied Mark Burnett and Jeff Probst any further opportunity to send more celebrities in. Nothing has been heard of the second set of celebrities. Flashes of video were uplinked to satellite receivers before going off line. David Hasselhoff being torn to shreds by a seven pound ball of canine fury. Screams of the Jenner sisters. And a flash of canine teeth lunging at Axl Rose’s camera. Beyond that, nothing is known. Bruce Jenner has released a statement declaring that he’s drowning his sorrow in hundred year old Scotch. Justin Bieber’s manager made a cryptic remark about being glad he had full access to the singer’s accounts.

At least we’ll never have to hear another new Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus single again.

If Eleven Z-List Celebrities Bite The Dust, Is That A Tragedy?

Some links today, before I get into the oh dear God, did I actually write that blog. And we're going with an emphasis on sheer and utter cuteness with these. Take a look at Barbara's Cats for her gang of rascals. Say hello to the sweet face of Kelly. Be mesmerized by chocolate feline eyes. Check out Oscar's view out the window. And find out how the Square Dogs deal with a bath. Now then back in November I posted this blog about washed up celebrities going off to what was certainly a bad end. Today I have something of a followup.

Numerous Washed Up Celebrities Killed In Space Explosion; Branson Plugs Next Project

Los Angeles (AP) Sir Richard Branson, the tireless self promoter and head of Virgin Group, faced reporters yesterday afternoon in California after the explosion of Virgin Galactic SpaceShipTwo in low orbit over the Earth. The crew members and passengers aboard were all lost in an event that will likely trigger a long investigation. Branson seemed tired as he spoke. "It's a horrendous tragedy. Not only did we lose the flight crew, but we lost some of the brightest and true talent in the world. Let me tell you, the world is a little less bright now that they're gone. It's going to be a long, long investigation, and there's not much I can say about that process. All I can talk about are the people who were on that flight. The captain and co-pilot were truly the best of the best, both retired military pilots. Scott "Broken Mirror" Kowalski had fifteen years service as a pilot for the USAF before he came to work for me. Outstanding chap, had a wife and kids who loved him. Hard to believe he's gone. And Alan "Dead Meat" Winters was former RAF, a top pilot, just the kind of pilot you'd trust to get you home."

Branson paused a moment before continuing. "And how do we even begin to mourn the dead? So many wonderful limelight superstars wiped out all at once. I mean, Shia LaBeouf was truly at the top of his game, one of the most respected actors of all time. And sure, I mean, he'd had some trouble lately with people making fun of him, getting into fights for no reason, and taking to wearing paper bags as some kind of performance art, but that doesn't take away from just how stupendous and talented and charismatic an actor he was."

Branson shook his head. "You know, I heard earlier that Harrison Ford remarked upon hearing the news that he wished it had happened before Shia got cast in that last Indiana Jones movie. I don't understand how he could say that. Wasn't Shia just wonderful in that role? Didn't he make that film so much better just by being there? I think so, and I'll keep saying that no matter how many times Lucas and Spielberg say they made a horrible mistake casting him."

Branson paused again. He reached into a pocket, glancing at a small mirror. "Mirror mirror, who's the most suntanned of them.. oh, right, I'm still in a press conference." He cleared his throat. "Well then, Shia was not the only big time celebrity to perish in the great calamity over the earth. No. Simon Cowell also died on board SpaceShipTwo. Never again will we hear the condescending baritone of that great man. Never again will he roll his eyes or sneer. The world has lost one of its best when Simon was blown to smithereens. You know, I was speaking to his old antagonist Paula Abdul just a few minutes ago by phone. She sounded shattered. It was as if she couldn't believe it was actually true. She muttered something about it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person. I guess she was just proud that he made it to orbit."

Branson looked out over the crowd. "Unfortunately the Backstreet Boys met their maker too on that doomed flight. All five of them. They paid for their ticket and told me to get them into space so they could do a comeback special. It would have been over the moon. Well, not literally, since Virgin Galactic was never meant to go to the moon. But think about it... the Backstreet Boys are gone. Dead. All of them. It's a tragedy. It's the day the music died... and yes, I know, that expression belongs to the day Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper died in that whole plane crash fiasco, but when it really comes down to it... weren't the Backstreet Boys more important a musical legacy? We can at least be grateful for one thing. The boys were going to do a performance with Justin Bieber, but he couldn't make the flight. Too many legal problems, so he was grounded. He was kind enough to give Corey Feldman his ticket. Little did Corey know it would be the last flight he'd ever take. Think about it, people: Justin Bieber could have been on that flight. Wouldn't his loss have been such a monumental tragedy?"

Branson wiped away a tear. "And lest we forget the rest. You know, they were misunderstood in life. Hopefully in death we'll remember them better. Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were the best of friends through their many reality shows, pub crawls, party crashes, and court appearances. They set the world on fire with their attitude and their elegance and their debating skills. I like to think that the two of them lent a certain dignified air among the passengers on that doomed flight. I'm sure they'll be missed by all who loved them. Particularly by the latest little lap dog to be part of Paris' life. I understand Trixie Tinkerbell will inherit whatever money Paris had left to her name."

Branson took a moment to compose himself. "Last of all... the sheer talent this young woman brought to the world, her grace and warmth, her radiant spirit, shall be missed. Yes, the last few years were not kind to Lindsay. It is true that she found herself in many, many court appearances, rehab facilities, and mug shots. Yes, it is true that her parents are even now fighting over who gets to orchestrate the memorial service. I like to think she was misunderstood by a Hollywood that hired directors who preferred working with someone who was more stable. How could they pass up Lindsay? Well, dear girl, you're at peace now. After being blown to bits in that explosion. I don't know... maybe it was a horrible way to go."

Branson shuddered. "You know, I'm reminded at this moment that it could have been even worse. I was supposed to go on that flight. It was supposed to be me up there... dying with those brave thirteen souls. Instead, I came down with the flu and had to stay home in my island paradise. Is that karma? Good luck? Or the fates of the cosmos saying, Richard Branson is too important to die? I don't know. I'm sure I'll have to figure that out in time. For now, I have to mothball Virgin Galactic. The investigation must play itself out so that we can figure out what happened. I'm moving onto other things for the next few months. I'll be offering kitesurfing trips with me to any lucky lady willing to consent to the dress code. She has to wear her birthday suit. I wonder if I can convince Paula Abdul to give that a try...