Celebritiess with Muppet Bodies: Busey and Clooney

Why celebs with Muppet bodies you ask? Because, why not?

George Clooney

Gary Busey

FAN MAIL: Soundgarden

Dear Soundgarden,

Well played, well played. I applaud you for a job well done. Two back to back nights in NYC, presumably giving the fans a choice to join you at one of the shows at the intimate venue at Hammerstein Ballroom, but little did they know the dastardly plan you already had set in motion…the setlist. Amazing show that seemed to go on for hours to what I can only assume to be the energy levels of Matt Cameron (who I never seen play less than a two hour set between the two times I saw him with Pearl Jam and the two times I saw him with Soundgarden). Great song after great song, and then the encore, which everyone in the audience knew what to expect…then BLAM! Everyone knows what to expect at a Soundgarden show, and that is a good time, a face hidden by hair, and “Black Hole Sun”…but not this time. You teased the crowd by playing everything but this monumental hit, which perhaps was a ploy to get people to double up and join you for both nights? That’s right I saw right through your plan, but I hold no ill feelings, because you announced both shows at the same time. My biggest grip with bands and/or Ticketmaster is announcing a show that is known to sell out in minutes, most of the time a weeknight show, and then magically when that sells out, and everyone got their nosebleed section tickets a new weekend show is announced, but not Soundgarden, and for that I love them even more. I had the choice, albeit may have made the wrong choice if I wanted to hear their #1 hit, but I more than enjoyed the set I was given.

Without wax,

Dan

 Soundgarden at Hammerstein Ballroom, NYC (January 22, 2013)

HAIKU: The Expensables

After killing virtually everyone there was to kill, The Expendables had to forfeit the life of action to take on day jobs. Turning from shooting out eyes to shooting out reports, and where the only dead things were the deadlines, yet they were content. Here are the haikus dedicated to the accounts of the new accountants...they are THE EXPEN$ABLES!

Sylverster Stallone as Barney Ross

Jean-Claude Van Damme as Jean Vilain

Dolph Lundgren as Gunnar

Arnold Schwarzenegger as Trench

Terry Crews as Hale Caesar

Jason Statham as Lee Christmas

Randy Couture as Toll Road

Jet Li as Yin Yang

Bruce Willis as Mr. Church

Chuck Norris as Booker

Liam Hemsworth as Bill The Kid

Scott Adkins as Hector

They are THE EXPEN$ABLES

FAN MAIL: Ours

Dear Ours,

Every time I listen you one of your songs, and every time I see you perform I truly appreciate that music exists. Jimmy Gnecco is arguably (at least by me), the best vocalist I have ever heard, and it baffles me that more people are not aware of how amazing Ours is. I know it was said at your concerts that you do not want to make the music that the record companies want you to make and thusly make your own music and release it on your own, sacrificing the reach that these companies provide, but still I am still dumbfounded that more people know Skrillex than you. Also, some of the things that is passable on the radio nowadays just confuses me. I am not really sure where the talent portion comes into play, when someone else programs a beat, a “singer” picks it out and sings to it, with words written by a lyricist, and then has AutoTunes generously applied. Really, this is acceptable? Why can’t other professions get away with this? Why can’t doctors just be like, well you want me because I am a doctor, but I am going to let someone else do all the work and I will just approve it, like say, an intern or a resident…oh my god, this is the way the world works. Why have I not realized this before? Can I do this with writing and an auto word generator? Let me give it a try…

"Pineapple forest sat classroom tutor time. Pickle foot, me? No, thus a pickle is not a father. I will punch a toe in the stomach until electrify spirit."

Am I famous yet? How will I be able to tell? I just checked out my window and there were no paparazzi, but I guess that is not a good tell because I have no clue how good their GPS units are. Is this what Dan Brown does maybe? Could the Lost Symbol be some mysterious letter that he stumbled upon as a program wrote his books? I must find this Lost Symbol and ride the success like a wave; I should get Bermuda shorts to fit the role. Anyway, thanks for keeping music real, and I cannot wait for the new CD this year and to see you perform to add to my list of five times already.

Yours kinda truly as this was also written with assistance from a computer,
Dan


Ours at Bergen County Fair, NJ (October 27, 2012)


Ours at The Studio at Webster Hall, NYC (July 20, 2012)

FAN MAIL: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Dear Red Hot Chili Peppers,

Why are you so freakin’ awesome? Remember that time I was listening to you in my car? What do you mean which time? OK, so I listen to you a great deal in my car, well fine, you got me, but do you remember any of those times? Really? I feel a little insulted. I know you have millions is not billions or thousands of listeners, but I thought I was special. Why? Because I think I am special, and my mom probably thinks I am special, and my mom is a smart lady because she thinks I am special, and I will not hear anything about that being a recursive loop. I also wanted to say thanks for putting on such awesome live shows. You were on you’re A-Game when playing in Newark, NJ, and I am sure the city appreciated that you did not bring up the fact that everyone was in Newark, NJ, I am sure they all knew, but reminders are never fun. Then, you played the capital and were equally as amazing. Huh? No, like the nation’s capital, oh, no not capital like RHCP, no, I know I should have specified. Allow me to rephrase, you were awesome in Washington. No, not the state. Well, I am sure you were awesome in the state, but I was not at that show, so I cannot make such a bold statement; I meant D.C. No, Donkey Kong is spelled with a ‘K’. D.C. meaning District of Columbia. What? No, I did not catch you on your South American leg of the tour, and you know as well as I know that I am not talking about the country Columbia, and if you try to play me for a fool like you think I am talking about the school than I will walk away. OK, you got me, if I walk away than who will post this, so just the fact that you are reading this you proved to everyone I did not walk away. Fine you win. The Red Hot Chili Peppers bested me once more, and for this I hold no shame; they are all fine specimens of human beings and I proudly admit them to be my superiors. Live long and prosper, and keep on making that fine ole ear candy.

Yours (mostly) truly,
Dan


Red Hot Chili Peppers at Prudential Center, Newark, NJ (May 4, 2012)


Red Hot Chili Peppers at Verizon Center, Washington, D.C. (May 10, 2012)


Chad Smith's Bombastic Meatbats at Iridium, NYC (December 8, 2012)


Chad Smith's Bombastic Meatbats at Iridium, NYC (December 8, 2012)

The Voldemort Nose Splice Project

The Harry Potter book and movie series may be all wrapped up and some believe that he who shall not be mentioned has gone the way of the wind, but in reality he now resides with a team of scientists. The brain trust known as the Voldemort Nose Splice Project is working around the petri dish and focusing on fringe science to get a nose back on the prince of darkness. One day he shall rise again, or at least sniff again.

Subject #1: Sarah Jessica Parker

Sarah Jessica Voldemort: A research and development team has been working on the magic of splicing celebrities noses with famed Harry Potter villain, Voldemort, so that he can once again join society and not be such a hard-ass all the time. The first test intended to give Voldemort the confidence he needed to spend a night out on the town with the ladies. Results were moderate.

Subject #2: Groucho Marx

VoldeMarx: As the splicing project continued, research and developers planned on adding to Voldemort's charism and ventured down a path to increase his comedic potential. Results were moderate.

Subject #3: Gonzo

Gonzoldemort: Development has entertained the notion to use Muppet DNA in order to give Voldemort a more durable washer friendly look. Results were less than satisfactory.

Subject #4: Bozo the Clown

Bozoldemort: Again trying to delve into the comical side of the evil magical tyrant, attempts were made to douse Voldemort with levity. Results were unknown as developers were smitten.

Subject #5: Shaquille O'Neal

Shaquille O'Mort: Focusing on power, strength, and excellent olfactory senses, and figuring since retiring Shaq may not need his nose as frequently. Scientists jumped through hoops to merged the two titans and hit it from downtown. Results were excellent and researchers discovered the basketball giant was not Irish at all.

Subject #6: Spoon Trick

Floating Spoon: Truly a remarkable magician, the spoon appears to be floating. Although not precisely what the VNSP researchers had in mind, it did help to lift spirits.

SHORT STORY: The Amish Versus the Mime

The following accounts are real and took place last July. Many people claim this story is purely fiction, but this is not the case. The events that unfolded before my eyes were indeed the most remarkable sight any eyes could behold. The outcome of the event changed my life. The event I speak of is the epic battle I witnessed between an Amish and a mime.

A quiet man sauntered down the street, whistling mutely to himself with his hands jammed in his pockets. His pale completion exaggerated by the pasty white makeup drabbed on his face. His lips were as black as a gorilla hide, and mind you, not a silverback. To accompany his gloomy lips dripped the dried black tear drops from below each eye. For a face whose features screamed of sadness, he still appeared to be whistling merrily. His wardrobe was equally as peculiar as his facial display, wearing a black beret atop his head, covering his greasy blond hair. Around his neck he sported a fine red silt bow tie, slightly disheveled. From the neck down was a plain white t-shirts, with evidence of sweat peering through in response to the blaring summer sun above. His pants were as simple as his shirt, an ordinary pair of black slacks. Fastened to his pants around the waist was a pair of black suspenders which clung to his boney shoulders. He looked scrawny on the outside, but something in his eyes suggested he was not a force to be reckoned with.

With each step the wandered took, dust kicked up beneath his feet on the dirt road he traveled. Gently swaying back and forth as he walked until he came to a dead stop. His head sprang up and his neck straightened, he was startled by something. In his alerted state he glanced all around, when he saw a figure approaching.

As the figure walked, it became apparent he was heading directly towards the unusual stranger. As the other drew closer his long flowing black beard danced in the wind. His face was shadowed by his large rimmed straw hat, while cooling it from the searing rays. His attire contrasted the cooling aspects of the hat in that he wore many layers of dark black material. He quickened his pace and when in earshot let out a warning.

“Get off my property mime, this is Amish country,” the Amish man yelled.

The mime acknowledged the caution with a nod, but said nothing, and held his position.

“Thou speak to me when I address you,” the Amish demanded. “You know the decree; your kinds are not suppose to intrude on our land. The good lord never intended the Amish and mimes to mix.”

The mime gave a blank stare to the Amish, followed by a smirk.

“Enough of this nonresistance,” the Amish screamed in a rage, “Mennonite Fist of Might.” The left hand of the Amish burst into a ball of flickering fire and he rushed the mime and struck him in the chest.

The mime flew backwards, shirt singed, and skin reddening. The mime picked himself up, dusted off his pants, placed his hands over his stomach and imitated a hearty laugh.

“You certainly are dumb,” the Amish scoffed and he readied himself for a follow up attack. “Repent for your sins,” he shouted as he swung his clenched fists wildly.

The mime, now anticipating the attack prepared a dodge and retaliation. He stepped aside from the fists and head butted the Amish. After the strike, the mime quickly jumped back and hopped around in celebration, arms pumping in the air.

“Now you have done it, I am going to make you not want to talk about this fight,” the Amish blurted out, “no ifs, ands, or buttons about it.” The Amish then faked an elbow attack to divert the mime’s attention to the knee aimed for his groin.

The mime clutched his crotch and expressed signs on pain in his face, but his expression soon returned to a smile. Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes with the backs of his wrists, the mime mocked the Amish once more. The mime then approached the Amish but was met with an invisible barrier. The mime placed his hands on the unseen wall and shrugged his shoulders.

“You play games whilst we engage,” the Amish shouted in frustration. “I will give you something to cry about. I will teach you Demut.” The Amish lunged at the mime but met the invisible wall instead. Crashing into the wall, sounds of shattering glass filled the air. The Amish fell to the ground, and groaned loudly as he picked bloodied pieces of glass from the beard that lined his chin.

The mime then unraveled an undetectable lasso from aside him. Slowly letting the lasso out, he then began to swing it slowly about his head, waiting for the Amish to regain back to his feet. Once the Amish was standing again, the mime unleashed the lasso.

Not seeing where the lasso was headed, the Amish was unable to parry the attack. The lasso landed over his head, and the mime immediately tightened, restricting the Amish airflow. The Amish clutched his neck, grasping for air.

“No wonder you were excommunicated,” the Amish wheezed as he removed the lasso from around his neck. “I appreciate your plainness, but you have too much Hochmut. Trespassing is trespassing, and mimes are descendants of the devil. Choke me all you can, and cut me all you want, I have already renounced my flesh and blood. Your attacks are useless against me.” The Amish the delivered a boot to the side of the mimes face, causing the silent intruder to collapse to the ground.

The mime mimicked a primal scream without muttering a sound and spun into the air. Forming a whirlwind around him, he landed atop the Amish with a fist to the spine. The Amish jutted forward and fell back to the ground, onto his face.

The Amish righted himself once again, this time laughing subtly, “I have had harder challenges on my Rumspringa. You are nothing.” The Amish then reached into his trousers and pulled out a bottle of non-alcoholic beer and winged it at the mime, while yelling, “face Prohibition Collision.”

The bottle struck the mime and exploded into a blinding flash. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air and once the mist cleared the mime stood, chest raising and contracting rapidly as he took his deep breaths. The mime pretended to grab a baton and marched in place waving the baton in sync.

“You do not take anything seriously,” the Amish reprimanded. “You know not of obedience and submission.” The Amish bend down and removed a dagger from his boot, when he noticed smaller rocks form the road vibrating. He then heard the loud thunderous crashes of drums, but saw nothing. His eyes went wide upon the realization of what attack the mime had summoned. “Not the Charade Parade,” the Amish yelled as he tucked up into a ball before the mime.

The rumbling was deafening as the Amish remained in his ball, almost cowering. When the procession audibly dissipated the Amish, surprised he was un-phased, raised his head to see what had happened. The Amish peered out from over his arm to the mime standing proud in front of him. With the stealth of a gazelle the mime reached his hand into the chest of the Amish and pulled out his still beating heart. The mime smiled, and then licked his lips to signify that the heart looked delicious.

The Amish keeled over and the mime dropped the heart. The mime returned to the road. He jammed his hands back into his pockets and teetered on his heels for a moment. The mime then took a slow step forward and continued his travels.

SHORT STORY: Premeditated Suspense

Darkness becomes the night and the night is when everything can be concealed. As I kill my engine my headlights fade to black and my nights spectacular events are truly put into motion. I made sure to park two houses down to avoid giving away too many hints such as sounds or lights when I arrived in order to conserve the surprise, because why would life be worth living at all if not for the surprises? Noiselessly I open my car door and reach across to the passenger seat to remove its well premeditated contents.

I look down at the item in my right hand and I place the index finger of my left hand to it so that I can prick my skin to its point; sharp, stunning, perfect, and beautiful. If only an inanimate object could know its intentions and the joy it would bring to at least one person, I snicker to myself. If she only knew what was in store for her, a surprise indeed. Oh she thought I forgot or didn’t know, but no, I never forget and I know more than I let on. Well placed ignorance strung together can mimic the genius of the great works of DaVinci if executed correctly.

Now standing under the non-existent glow of the broken street lamp overhead I reach into the car and pull out one final item, my bag of goodies; all part of the plan. I ease the door shut and silently as a prowling panther ready for a meal I make my way up the driveway. I know that there is a motion sensor light off to the right of the garage, and I also happen to know that if I walk just two feet in on the grass that it will not get activated. Illuminating my way and announcing my presence would ruin everything, and I have worked too hard on this night to have it all ruined by an obtrusive and obnoxious glare.

The slick grass collapses underneath my feet as I am reminded that it had rained earlier thus wetting the grass; how I love the rain, it washes everything away. I stop as there is a rustle alongside me in the bush by the bay window. I strain my eyes to peer through the black when two small gray fur balls emerge to scurry and bound about. Squirrels, I reassure myself as I take a deep breath to return my heart to a normal state rather than the thumping I was currently at. What did I think it was anyway? Something that went bump in the night? No, no such supernatural thought could jar me, what really got me going was the thought that something would interfere. Actually, I dreaded as I watched the squirrels roll dangerously close to the driveway; they could be big enough to set off the light sensor. Why are they even out, I gritted my teeth in frustration, they are not nocturnal. They are just having some fun I closed my eyes and took another cleansing and calming breath. Technology nowadays has worked out the kinks of wildlife setting off detectors; nothing to fear.

I continue on my way, stopping every other step in order to make sure I do not alarm the two young playful critters. I wanted what I wanted and I was getting angry at them for just doing what they wanted, which was get in a round of tag in the midnight mist. They just wanted to let off some steam from the rise and grind life of scrounging for food and trying not to get run over. It was unfair for me to judge them so harshly; they look to be making the most out of life.

At the front door I cautiously test the doorknob and as expected it turns with no interference. Even in today’s chaotic and violent world, people find complacently when they feel they live in a safe neighborhood; if they only knew what shadows lurked out there. Stepping into the abode and taking full advantage of the silencing welcome mat I shut the door without a creak. I slink forward into the hallway and listen with the intensity of a hunting owl for the scurrying of mice feet, or in this case the faint murmur of a television; the living room it is.

I am not even a thought as I stand in the darkness. No one knows I am here, no one cares that I am here, but yet I am here. I figuratively wipe the smirk off of my face to stay focused but by doing so I allow myself a lapse and my mind takes a slight detour. Those squirrels were just so damn contented. Perhaps it was because there was the two of them? Were they siblings? Were they lovers? Does it matter? Is just having a partner all you need in the world? Can being part of a pair really be the secret to happiness? Want the meaning of life; look no farther than your counterpart. No, it can’t be, there has to be more to it than that, right? Why do I concern myself with such silly thoughts when there are serious matters at hand, and in my hand?

I step and I pause, then I step and I pause again; I am not about to let everything fall to spoils on behalf of haste. Patience is a virtue, and a friend, and an accomplice. After what felt like an eternity of bliss I arrive at the entranceway to the living room and the soft glow shines upon my face and form as I spy upon the back of a couch occupied with what I saw to be a well maintained head of golden locks.

She watches the screen intently as she is not expecting any visitors tonight, why would she, after all, her mind was already made up. I can not be certain as I am not an expert on the matter, but it almost looks as if she is watching a crime drama where they solve some murder in record time. I myself never found those shows that entertaining, usually centered on a home invasion or abduction and then a race against the clock to apprehend the darkly painted villain, but I must admit that using the shows as research can do wonders. Suiting, I nod to myself proudly as I was just able to let myself in with an expert level of concealment.

I ease across the nice and plush noise absorbing carpet and into the room and within seconds I am inches away from her while she is still oblivious to my presence. I slowly creep my right hand and its item over the back of the couch and hover it right over her shoulder. Still I am a ghost in the darkness, or rather dimly glowing room, but the analogy still stands as I am practically invisible. Astonishing how no sensor is erupting alerting her that she is not alone anymore.

I slowly release the breath I had been holding and in the dead of the room it sounded like a wind tunnel as I draw the object down and across her cheek. She jumps with a startle and turns with a gasp. “You,” she screams and I must admit that she is clever; I am and have always been me.

“Yes,” I sneer with a seductive and delicious grin, everything according to plan.

“But, you were,” she stammers over her words as she stands and stumbles backwards, almost loosing herself on her magazine littered coffee table.

“All part of the plan,” I chuckle maniacally as I take one step closer, the glint in my eye feeling bright enough to illuminate the entire neighborhood from this one solitude room.

“But you forgot,” she accuses, her eyebrows still arched and her mouth still gapping.

“Did I?” I tease slowly letting my words teeter off of my tongue as I lift what once caressed her cheek and brandish it at her. As it waves back and forth taunting, I can see the understanding wash over her like a sand castle with poor real estate getting caressed by a wave.

“For me?” Her eyes go wide and if I am not mistaken there is a slight giddiness to her and I would even go as far as to say a jump of glee, but these things can never be confirmed as they happen in the blink of an eye and it is still too dark to be admissible in the court of law.

“All for you,” my lips curl up as I reach out to her. “And that’s not all.”

“You,” she starts, but I interrupt, the charade had gone on long enough and I think she is already piecing it together; all part of the plan.

“Happy anniversary honey,” I lean in and hand her the rose I had been carrying; it is a magnificent floral specimen with lavish red petals, a vibrant green stem that arches ever so slightly, and the stem is brilliantly branded with thorns protruding every which way that it could have easily been mistaken for an art piece. “I also picked up some dinner, eggplant parmesan your favorite. I didn’t get anything to drink, but if I remember correctly we still have that Cabernet from your boss.”

She looks down at the bag that I was lifting in front of me and her eyes well with tears the instant she recognizes that the logo on the bag was one in the same to the logo of the restaurant where we shared our first date three years ago to the day. “I thought you really forgot this time.”

“I could never forget. Today will always be special and I wanted to surprise you,” I whisper into her ear as I embrace her after placing the bag on top of the magazines.

“You did just that,” she blurts out with a crack as she dug her face lovingly into my shoulder.

“Oh, that wasn’t the surprise,” I gleam as my voice drops an octave.

“Huh?” She looks up in confusion, but at this point it is too late.

From its resting place snuggly in my belt behind my back I produce the serrated knife I bought just for this magical occasion and I casually sink it in beneath her rib cage. I can hear a hiss and a gargle and I am not certain if it is coming from her mouth or her newly punctured lung, but I guess it does not really matter. Her eyes race up at me in horror and I just smile warmly down at her; if only we could have been as happy as the squirrels, but this was on her.

“I did not appreciate finding out that you slept with my cousin behind my back,” I said as I lower her to the dampening carpet, but I kick myself for my word choice as I would not have appreciated her sleeping with my cousin in front of me either, but the words I chose really are irrelevant as they are never going to be repeated or remembered by anyone other than me and I can surely let it slide. I then stand and look down at her and the life that is leaking away. “You hurt me, and hurt people do crazy things. We could have been such happy squirrels.”

All she can do is blink up at me, and all I can do is smile and not feel any sort of sorrow or remorse. My evening plans were complete, and as I had promised her, today was and will forever be special and it was just that; now I had a new anniversary to celebrate in the years to come. For her final seconds I made sure that I look into her eyes so that she can witness the love and the hatred that fueled me, and I am certain that she does. I know that she is looking at the vortex of pain and anguish that she caused and for some mysterious reason it warms me a little, but I guess that was part of the plan too. There is an understanding in her eyes as the world goes dim around her and in two more blinks her eyes stayed shut so that she will forever be trapped in eternal darkness.

My New Blog

I was managing my website www.banocanut.com for the past few years, but what I have been using it for I can easily accomplish through this blog; and that would be free. Not to say that I am cheap, but thrifty is thrifty so over the next few weeks I will transfer all of my cartoons, jokes, short stories, books, and whatnot to this blog and then start releasing some new material.

XS8AY8STB7WV,
Dan