Category Archives: Secret Histories
A feature film based on the classic TV show SEA HUNT is being pitched in Hollywood, but so far no luck. Producers are hoping that their appearance on Shark Tank will lure one or all of the sharks to bite, and that they’ll fund a sequel at the same time. James Cameron is a possible director, and could film both the original and sequel simultaneously (along with Avatar 2 and 3.) “He should be able to squeeze us in for a possible 2015 release,” script writer Walter Witty is suggesting. “If not, we’ll try for Woody Allen.”
Secret History: Walter Witty, otherwise known as the Homeless Comic, purports to know the answers to all of life’s biggest questions. He’s not particularly proud of this, and just calls it “uncommon sense.” Go figure. But here’s the thing: the news media are starting to catch on. And they NEED answers badly. So while the police keep arresting him for acting like he’s an authority or something, (and telling jokes without poetic license or the use of talking fruit), Witty is being sought out on such wide ranging subjects as politics, culture, and (as Woody Allen puts it) “the ability of leprechauns to locate gold.” (Note: Woody was trying to say that leprechauns, vampires, and zombies don’t actually exist, so the referenced gold is fool’s gold…unless you’re a Hollywood producer, in which case the gold is real.) Witty is often forced to use disguises and pseudonyms such as Ryback Solomon (lending him the more respectable title “reporter,” which also sounds better to those geniuses on TMZ, who just stand around trading verbal snipes at celebrities while drinking soda.) Witty is the cousin of one Walter Mitty, although Walter would claim that this claim is a figment of his (Witty’s) imagination. To sum up, both nothing (and everything) anyone named Walter says can be construed as both fact and fiction, both satire and deep truth, but this particular Walter disclaims responsibility for any and all consequences resulting from incorporating his (or Entertainment Tonight’s) views into their personal value system…which system, as we know, is already pretty much written in stone, thanks to years of subliminal (or otherwise) advertising. Just so you know.
You’ve heard of the Brazil nut, but what you haven’t heard about is the Guyana nut. It has finally been declassified, and has been the choice of despots around the world. The history of the nut is fascinating. It was discovered by Jim Jones, a televangelist who wasn’t getting much headway with CBN for his own program, so he went to Guyana, where he could establish his own little kingdom of worshipers (more on the David Koresh or Bhagwan Rajneesh model.) Before his followers arrived there, he discovered the rarest and most amazing nut in the world, with a flavor so incredible that anyone who ate it felt like a god (and with godlike paranoia.) Jones immediately staked out the entire tiny area where the nut was found to be on the verge of extinction, and built his compound. He then harvested all the nuts and built a greenhouse to grow seedlings. None of his acolytes were allowed inside, although he did have a chemist flown in to test the chemical “compounds” of the nut. The chemist also worked for Kool Aid as a flavorist, but Jones killed him when he suggested selling the formula to the executives at Coke. (Jones didn’t care about money, he was after power, authority, and worship…a side effect of eating the nut.) With heat bearing down on him from the outside world, what Jones did was send samples of the nut by Fed-X to various world leaders, with a promise that if they granted him asylum, he would give them seedlings of the plant. (This is where the term “greenhouse effect” actually came from.) Alas, his own greenhouse was broken into by one of his followers, and Jones had everyone “drink the Kool Aid” to prove their loyalty, then he shot the traitor in the chest, (but not before he was shot himself.) From here the story gets fuzzy, but apparently, besides Saddam, the Shah of Iran, Hafez al Assad, and a few others like L. Ron Hubbard (Jones being a fan of his SF stories), samples were sent to Kim Jong-il, one of the nuts mistakenly with a germinating seed. Un’s father then had the seedling grown, reproduced, and distributed as “G-Rations” to troops (everyone being in the troops.) This is why today the entire country is so paranoid and happy to live in poverty without Coke, Kool Aid, or Kim Kardashian. Although they do watch The Voice, since Kim is entering the Battle Rounds (and will be on Ready for Love next season.) As a footnote, it is rumored that Gordon Ramsay obtained a sample of the nut, which gave him his ideas for Hell’s Kitchen, Kitchen Nightmares, The F Word, and Gordon’s Great Escape From Reality. He hopes to feature it as a secret ingredient on MasterChef.
Another theory….Kim just wants money, and for us to be broke…enter the Twilight Zone…
Love him or hate him, Bill Maher is unafraid to speak his mind. Indeed, he does have a mind, unlike many comics who have neither point nor opinion (and just tell fart jokes until it’s time to go home and write more fart jokes.) Bill is into satire, so we salute his bravery (although he got into hot water when he called the 9/11 pilots “brave,” as opposed to “cowards” as Bush called them, meaning only that Barney Fife—or Bush—would probably not make good kamikazes, regardless of the insanity of their beliefs or their relative sociopathic tendencies.) The one thing that Bill has been fearful of revealing, though, is his true past. Having dated a black woman he later called insane, is he a racist or just a brave sex fiend? Who cares. Everyone alive is racist and prejudice and a brazenly insane sex fiend.* The trick is to mingle, rethink, reread, readjust, and stop taking Viagra. Anyway, Bill once studied to become a priest,and (redacted; see Wikileaks.)
*According to Harvard scientist Dr. Steven Pinker no one is without prejudice because we judge everything and everyone around us by our education, upbringing, and experience. We cannot do otherwise. But neither are we condemned to remain with fixed opinions. We must simply reject the notion that following the crowd to the cliff like a dutiful lemming is necessarily a “good” thing.
No, the Occupy Wall Street movement did not begin with the Tea Party, (that began with Cornelius Lipton, a trilateralist Civil War reenactor from Hackensack, New Jersey.) Occupy Wall Street began when high school science teacher Oliver Wendell Shuttlecock had an astonishing insight: that people with extreme amounts of money do not bend the light around them or invoke The Secret to obtain favor from the universe, but instead use visual tricks like magicians (and advertisers) to pick your pocket when you’re not looking. Therefore, they are human beings who employ makeup, not gods worthy of worship. Oliver’s frustration intensified when his investment portfolio collapsed in Oct. 2008, and Obama signed on to bailing out Lloyd Blankfein (who in turn made $42,900,000 in bonuses that year while paying only 1% in taxes.) Further investigation on Oliver’s part revealed that special effects worthy of Pixar assisted in enhancing the business models of investment banks, who saw more profit in pushing paper than smelting iron or building fuel efficient cars to compete with Asians. Oliver’s wife started the movement after Oliver was killed when his necktie got caught in an ATM machine as he was trying to insert his meager payroll check. Bank of America had charged his widow $495.88 for ATM repair (labor) and $5 for check imaging.
Jay Leno was born Jerry Lewis in Ormond Beach, Florida, and as a boy watched stock car races on the World’s Most Famous Beach, and the Daytona Motor Speedway. As a teen he worked in his dad’s garage, pumping gas and doing tune-ups. One day the movie star Jerry Lewis pulled in with a Duesenberg, and the young Jerry made a joke about how shiny the fender was, then mentioned to the star that they had the same name. The famous Jerry replied, “You better change your name, punk. And change my oil while you’re at it.” While getting a wrench, punk Jerry asked his dad if he could he change his name. His dad responded by adding sand to the Duesenberg’s oil. Later, the friend of a friend of Lewis torched the garage with young Jerry’s dad inside, then put out an APB hit on “the young punk,” (as Frank Sinatra put it.) So Jerry drove to California in a 1964 Comet, and got a job off Sunset washing cars. One day Jerry Lewis drove in, and asked, “What’s your name, punk?” Jerry replied, “I’m Len– No. J-j-j-ja. . .hey, I’m s-s-sorry ’bout spitting o-o-on the ch-ch-ch-chrome.” To which Lewis said, “That’s okay, Jay. Listen, kid, I like your style. Spit shine my fenders, and I’ll let you be one of Jerry’s Punks. It’s an improv comedy troupe. You can play dumbo. Whatdoya say, Leno?” Lewis handed him a card. To this day Jay has been trying to off Lewis, who is protected by the mob. So far he’s only managed to steal from him, including the very Duesenberg he once spit shined.