The Velvet Penguin

Hey babe-

 

Listen, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I think it’s time we settled down and had some kids.  I know, I know, kids are a handful and we are young and there are so many things we still want to do with our lives and places we want to go and if we have kids those things will never happen.  I know it will throw your body out of whack and you’ll probably gain 100 or so pounds.  And I know it will cost a lot of money and we’ll probably be broke for the rest of our lives struggling everyday just to make enough to survive.

But listen, I’ve got a plan.  A fail-safe plan.  And all you have to do is agree to take a dangerous amount of fertility drugs and have about 10-15 kids in the next two years.  Hear me out.

America has lost its conscience.  I don’t know when it happened.  It might have been when Brett Michaels had those women prove their love to him by ripping apart the other team’s fake “baby Brett” in a Roller Derby.  It might have been when they premiered Little Big World.  It might have been when America decided that women of worth should be having litters.  I don’t know.  But, whenever it happened, it’s clear that now the getting is good.

All we have to do is have the kids and get one of those soulless television producers to agree to film the trials and tribulations of our family life.  That’s where the big bucks roll in.  This will solve our money problems forever!

I know you don’t want to have to take care of kids, which is why this plan is perfect.  We can simply make the studio foot the bill for “additional” care while you and I are cruising around the world like we always dreamed.  London, Paris, Amsterdam.  Everybody knows these shows aren’t about the parents,’ they’re about the kids.  We’ll just have to film a few scenes here and there about how this is “so overwhelming” and we stage a few fights about how the family is “falling apart” and bang, we’re done for the year and on our way to Tahiti.  It’ll take ten minutes tops.

And don’t worry about keeping your bikini body for those hot nights in Costa Rica, either.  We’ll make sure to use a good chunk of the money to have the finest plastic surgeons money can buy rebuild you into one smoking hot tamale before we leave.  Your body will be the envy of every woman from a reality television show on the beach.  Or hey, with modern science the way it is, maybe they can just be test tube babies that we can grow in a lab.  Attack of the clones, anyone?

Listen, this plan is rock solid.  All we have to do is have absolutely no conscience or consideration for the well being of the children we would bring into this world.  Sure they’ll grow up maladjusted and will require years of therapy just to retain some semblance of a normal life, but hey, if you think about it, basically they wouldn’t really even be ours.  They’d be more like, uh, studio property so I say let the studio worry about it.  Who knows?  Maybe the kids will be screwed up enough to land a reality show of their own!

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of having to work day in and day out and never get anywhere.  I want to be rich and famous and the envy of all.  And I think it’s pretty clear that the way to do it is to have an unhealthy amount of children and then throw them to the reality TV wolves while we reap the benefit of a baby’s inability to protest. 

Come on sweets, we can live our dreams.  And all we have to do is sacrifice 15 innocent babies to do it.

Yo dude-

 

Seriously, what’s up?   I turned on the tube when I woke up at 3pm and you were totally on it and pissing all kinds of people off.  Look, I’m not looking to narc on your buzz, but man you got to chill out.  I’m all for the Egalitarian lifestyle, dude, don’t get me wrong.  I also dream of a world where there isn’t a man keeping me down or stealing my high.  A place where we can just chill, you know?  But you’re starting to talk crazy with all this “nuclear bomb” this and “merciless retaliation” that.

Listen man, I’m not telling you how to live your life or anything, this is a safe place.  Why don’t you just take a few deep breaths and come over to mi casa?  We’ll keep it casual, burn a few, and play some video games on my step-mom’s new hi-def.  I know you’re into the threats and violence and stuff (which is totally cool, I’m not judging bra) so we can play Grand Theft Auto IV on the PS3.  That’s right, a PS3 man.  I totally borrowed it from Terrence last month and the dude got arrested on Thursday for feeding brownies to a Kindergarten class.  Dude’s in jail for like, I don’t know, at least a year or something.

And you didn’t hear this from me, but Donna Hu was totally asking about you the other day.  We were hanging out at Doug’s pool while his parents are out of town and she was wearing that blue bikini and it was hot and, oh man, I was pitching a tent, big time.  Anyways, Donna was all like “So, what’s the deal with J?”  At first I thought she was talking about Jeremy Serkis, but then I remembered he’s Armenian and Donna only dates Korean dudes.  So, just to be sure, I said, “Oh, you mean the K-man?  He’s cool.”  And she was all like “Cool.”  Dude, you’re in!  How many times have you and I talked about tapping that?  And dude, her dad owns like a restaurant or something.  We could scarf some major proportions whenever we wanted.  For free!  

I know things are totally tense right now with all the U.N. sanctions and the border offensives and what not, but I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you just took a vacay, got some of your aggression out on Terrence’s GTA, and made it with Donna. Things are getting way too heavy and you are getting a little too serious, bra.  I mean, it’s like you told me that one time:  Wavy Gravy always says “Keep your sense of humor, my friend; if you don’t have a sense of humor it just isn’t funny anymore.”  I think it was you who told me that.

I’m not trying to preach at you or nothing, but it’s like the second rule of the Juche says dude: “Policy must reflect the will and aspirations of the masses and employ them fully in revolution and construction.”  Well, last time I checked, the masses will was bent on playing some Dark Side of the Moon and aspiring to having it sync up with the Wizard of Oz perfectly.  And I know you know that’s some revolutionary shit.  After all, getting together and having an “il-in” time is what being a Communist is all about, isn’t it?

 

Call me on my cell, dude. 

 

Jimmy Kwan

Fish Creek, WI

 

Thomas Foster is a well-known hermit in Fish Creek.  He never reads a paper, he doesn’t own a television, and he is completely unfamiliar with the computer.  In fact, he only makes a public appearance in town for his morning cup of coffee.  “He just orders a cup a black,” says Roasters waitress Tracy Brewster.  “And he just sits there muttering to himself about this and that.  A real cheap tipper, too.  I never paid him no mind until now.”

83-year-old Foster, once labeled a coot and a malcontent, has suddenly become a celebrity in Fish Creek because he knows something.  Something you probably know about now, but he knew about all along.  This is because Foster has an uncanny knack for predicting that which has already happened. 

Labeled a modern-day Nostradamus, people are coming from far and wide to hear his daily updates on things which might have been avoided had people listened only to him in the first place.

After sitting with the man for just thirty-seconds, Foster’s gift becomes apparent.  “One thing I always been telling people,” says Foster,  “is you can’t trust the Government because they are going to screw you if you let ‘em.  You got to keep your money under your mattress or they sure as hell are gonna take it from you.” 

With the recent recession, job slump, and housing crisis, it’s hard to argue with this postdiction.

Perhaps this one tidbit might be a coincidence, you say?   Consider Foster’s next revelation:  “If I told ‘em once, I told ‘em a million times.  Sure the oil was cheap, but it was gonna go up.  It always does.” 

Sure enough, this past week has seen a rise in oil prices.  Truly chilling.

And what about international events?   After hearing about N. Korea and the rest of the world, Foster furrowed his brow and pensively exclaimed: “Awww, I knew it.  I just knew it.”

 

 

  If any of you know me, you know that I love Ghostbusters.  I LOVE IT!  I have seen the original movie over 100 times (I lost count at 116 times when I was a teenager).  I was actually given a copy of this movie (of which I still have) on instruction never to bring it back to said person’s house.  I remember exactly where I was when I first saw a preview for Ghostbusters 2.  I watched MTV religiously and waited to see the various incarnations of the Bobby Brown video to catch glimpses of Ghostbusters II before it entered the theaters.  I drew pictures of the Ghostbusters symbol in my notebooks for years.  Naturally, no one is more excited than I to see a new Ghostbusters film. 

 

However, no one is as skeptical as me either.  I have been let down by far too many new editions of classic films to be truly excited.  Terminator 3?  My God, that was depressing.  Star Wars Episode I?  Me and everyone else.  National Lampoon’s Vegas Vacation?  Sigh.  So, when I heard the fab-four would be replaced by a new crew, I immediately started to worry.

 

Hollywood is real fond of putting no talent flavors of the month into their dynasties and effectively ruining them forever.  So, Ramis and Aykroyd, if you’re reading, please consider the words of this die-hard fan.  Sure they’re cheaper, but skimping on non-established talent will cost you in the end.  I figure you guys are smart enough to keep a “Ghostbuster Nation” out of the film with a numerous amount of New Yorkers suddenly taking up the job as a nod to the solidarity of New York.  You already did that in Ghostbusters 2 and the Spiderman Franchise has beaten that horse to death.  So, it only makes sense that the original 4 will choose 4 similarly minded individuals who echo their greatness, yet bring a new sensibility and modernity to the table. 

 

  So, here are my thoughts about a new generation of Ghostbusters:

The Ray Stantz Replacement:  What made Ray great was that his was the pure one.  He is “the heart of the Ghostbusters.”  He had a serious lack of street smarts, which was paired beautifully with vast book smarts.  In many ways he was that straight A student in an Ivy League college who was the grade F student in dealing with the real world.  He was also as loyal as basset hound and was ready to lash out at anyone who threatened his friends.  That being said, Ray became a little too street smart in the second movie (which partially helped balance the Louis Tully character who took over the role of babe in the woods).  I personally thought this was a mistake as it caused Ray to lose a lot of his charm.  So, when thinking of a Ray replacement, I think the ability to play to the old Ray’s strengths is important.

 

1.  Jack Black:  Ok, I know you are already thinking about him.  He is a dangerous choice in that he is always mugging for the camera.  But, if you can keep him under control and keep his stupid metal-head shtick to himself, he might actually be a good choice.  He does a good job of being an idiot and the science stuff might be a good piece of meat for Black to chew on in character development.

 

2.  Sarah Silverman:  We all know you are thinking about a chick Ghostbuster.  Don’t pick some no-talent hottie.  Aykroyd, I’m talking to you-  Stay away from Eliza Dushku and Alyssa Milano.  THEY ARE NOT COMEDIENNES.  They are just busty Maxim girls.  Keep your brain out of your pants.  Now, while Ms. Silverman is attractive, she has a serious comic resume to back her up.  She has that doe eyed look and dummy routine that is seriously funny.  She could also speak to Ray’s more aggressive side when he is provoked in a unique and hilarious way-  She could even be written in as Ray’s sister and it would be believable.

 The Egon Spengler Replacement:  Egon is a hard one because he is the ultimate square.  He has no sense of humor (or an inhuman sense of humor that the very best).  I mean this guy had part of a slinky once and he straightened it!

 

 

1.  Rainn Wilson:  You already have tapped Office writers, so why not look to their cast?  This guy is a funny, quirky nerd who would really bring some interesting color to the character.

 

2.  Kevin Smith:  A quiet, understated comedian.  Sounds like a perfect fit for the man with the huge cranium that the chicks dig.

 The Winston Zeddemore Replacement:  Winston needs to be the everyman.  This is a guy who walked into a crazy world only because it had a steady paycheck.  The person who fills this role has to have the street smarts and wit of an everyday New Yorker as well as the ability to be completely out of place in his own city thanks to his newfound job.   

 

1.  Dave Chappelle:  This guy is seriously funny.  Plus as a modern day everyman he would fill the Zeddemore shoes nicely while adding his own welcome flavor to role.

 

2.  Wanda Sykes-  If you have to pick a chick, pick one with some balls.  Wanda Sykes is funny and she has got some serious cahones.

 The Peter Venkman Replacement:  Of course this is going to be the most impossible one to fill.  They are some mighty big shoes.  Venkman is a charlatan, a ball buster, and a loveable loser all wrapped into one.  He’s a fast-talking anti-hero who rises to the challenge because he knows no one else can.  He is the leader of a group who needs him sorely.  But, at the same time, he needs them just as much all though he would never admit it.

 

1.  Robert Downey Jr.:  Let’s face it, the only one who is going to be able to pull something like this off is a great actor.  Not some newbie.  Downey Jr. is probably the most obvious choice since he has made a career on playing these types.  Plus, as Tropic Thunder has proven, he is one funny guy.

 

2.  Billy-Bob Thornton:  I don’t love this guy, but he has definitely got the Venkman qualities.  Perhaps he comes into the film as a disgruntled cab driver who has to help out an overwhelmed set of Ghostbusters and shows he has got the mettle to handle the positron collider?

 

Oscar Barrett:  You got to have Oscar in this movie!  He would be about 20 by now and might make an interesting and valuable addition to the movie.  Part of the difficulty of casting this character will be of course, what sort of man Oscar has grown up to be.  I like to think he is a bit of reflection of his father, the dorky Philharmonic from the first movie.  Plus, he’s got to deal with the fact that his name is Oscar. 

 

1.  Michael Cera:  He already looks like an Oscar.  Would be a great side plot if he learns to be more of a man from his Uncle Peter and somehow contributes to the busters saving the day.

 

2.  Justin Long:  Skilled at playing nerds, but also a bit of a bigger guy, Long could be effective in creating a bit of a more disillusioned Oscar.  Plus, it would be hilarious if somehow it was discovered that Oscar’s real father is Louis Tully and a hilarious side plot could develop from Dana having to explain that to Venkman/Louis and son learning and growing from each other’s presence.  Long is also a seriously funny guy.

 

People who should, in no way, be considered for the roles of the main Ghostbusters:

 

Will Ferrell                                                                  Megan Fox

Any Current Saturday Night Live Member                  Shia LaBeouf

The Wayans Brothers                                                  Any Musician

Maxim Chicks                                                             Eddie Murphy

Mike Myers                                                                 Steve Carrell

Dane Cook

 

And please, for the love of all that is holy, KEEP JUDD APATOW AWAY from this movie!!!

I’m still on the fence about Seth Rogen.  But he did say a 3rd Ghostbusters would be stupid, so I gotta respect that he respects a classic!

 

 

 

     

Hey, I know what you’re going to say.  Yes, I have the flu right now.  But no, it is not the swine flu, so back off, I ain’t going to the doctor.  How do I know?  I just do, all right? 

I think I know my body, OK.  If I had a swine flu I think I would be the first to know it.  I’ve only been sick for, like, a week and a half and I have been totally chugging Robitussin the whole time.  The dizzy spells are becoming less frequent and I can almost keep down solid foods again.  I checked my symptoms on Web MD and it totally said I only had a 46% chance of having swine flu.  That’s less than half, which equals: Impossible.  And Web MD is like the real doctor without any of the hassles or fee hikes those office quacks stick me with.  I am still paying for that one time I broke my leg ten years ago.  Damn insurance company said the break was a “pre-existing condition” so they wouldn’t cover the bill and it cost me fifteen thousand dollars.  How the hell is a broken leg a pre-existing condition?  And how the hell does some plaster and gauze cost fifteen grand???   If you ask me all those medical bastards are all in cahoots.   

Also, I am ultra busy right now.  I have got a pile of papers at work about a mile high and if I don’t get that shit done by Friday, Mitch says it’s going to be my ass.  People think the world of Sales Clerk at Blockbuster is all ice-cream sandwiches and free video rentals but it is serious business and serious business doesn’t take an hour off to go to the doctor.  Plus, if I even went near a doctor for some stupid swine flu and Kelly and Tim got wind of that, they would treat like a god-damned leper for the rest of my life whether I had the thing or not.  I think they finally forgot about that time they caught me in the storeroom waxing the banana to Stop or My Mom Will Shoot so I need to fly below the radar right now.

Lastly, people keep saying to me “Would it kill you to go to the doctor and get checked out?”  Yes, as a matter of fact, it might.  Even if I went to the doctor who could officially tell me I don’t have swine flu, which I don’t, I would be sitting in a waiting room full of people who did have it. That’s like saying “oh, wait, please French kiss me right now” to a freaking vomiting pig.  Who do you SOBs think you are anyways, asking a perfectly innocent person like me to expose myself to some potentially deadly disease?  How would you like it if I asked you to do that, huh?

All you people are so paranoid.  Any time someone gets a little sniffle you cry swine flu and demand they run to the hospital for quarantine.  But I have a life and the last thing I need is someone else shackling me with some burden because of stubborn stupidity.  So you can all quit bugging me about going to the damn doctor.  It will be over all of our dead bodies that you see me anywhere near a hospital.  

-Eugene Crosby

Those who crave movies revolving around epic ring combat need look no further than these two films.  But which one truly has what it takes?  Let’s find out.  I will rate each movie based on Title, Sidekicks, Protagonists, Villains, Flashback Sequence, and overall message.  Who will come out on top?

 

#1 Title

As the title suggest, Pokemon:  The First Movie is the first Pokemon movie.  Now, one can’t help but notice the overall title and wonder one thing.  Is this just another prequel movie which will include everything, but resolve nothing?  Will we be forced to watch incarnation after incarnation of a franchise slowly coming to the realization that we are going to get nowhere?  The answer is “yes” and the creators of this franchise were brazen enough to promote that!

Bloodsport, in contrast, has no suggestion that we are going to have to wait for a grand finale.  This is a sport in which blood is involved and blood usually means death and in the world of combat movies death equals results.  There is no “#1” or subtitle “the beginning” which means everything we will need to know will be compacted into the hour and half we are about to take part in.

 

Verdict:  BLOODSPORT

 

#2 Sidekicks

Pokemon’s star trainer Ash Ketchum has a supply of sidekicks unlike any other leading man.  Of course, no sidekick of Ash’s is quite as famous as that little yellow blob, Pikachu.  A cross between a rat and a dog, this little fella more than makes up for his wussy cuteness with about 20 thousand volts of electricity surging through his body at all times.  And, as it is with all animal sidekicks, Pikachu’s doe-y eyes and never-give-up moxie make him a character who is hard to outshine.

Bloodsport’s Frank Dux looks to wisecracking behemoth, Ray Jackson, for his support.  Unlike Pikachu, Jackson is far from humble, is horribly unpleasant to look at, and is not there when Dux needs him most.  All of these things are major no-no’s in a good side-kick. 

 

Verdict:  POKEMON:  THE FIRST MOVIE

 

#3 Protagonists

 

As was suggested from the previous comparison, Ketchum without his numerous sidekicks is kind of lame.  He is just another whiny dork who needs the lash of his bulbasaur or the jet stream of his squirtle to move any further in his plight.  In the end, Mewtwo’s complete triumph over Ketchum proves irrefutably that Ketchum is just a little wuss who, when not backed up by a fire breathing dragon, cries for his pokemom.

Dux on the other hand is a no-nonsense ass-kicker who relies only on his wit and quick thinking to personally deliver fists of justice to all his rivals, sans poke-balls.  He’s way cooler with the ladies, has a non-pre-pubescent voice, and doesn’t rely on other when he’s in a jam.

 

Verdict:  BLOODSPORT

 

#4 Villains

Both Pokemon’s Mewtwo and Bloodsport’s Chong Li are bad dudes.  One is a genetically engineered Pokemon capable of destroying man or beast with a single thought.  The other is a power mad Korean who can destroy blocks of ice hanging from trees with a single kick and has pectoral muscles bigger than most people’s whole body.  While Mewtwo must be admired for his love of rational thought and reasoning, Chong Li must be admired for his complete disregard for the rules or human life.  As villains they are polar opposites in the way they handle things, yet are both serious baddies.  That being said, it can not be ignored that Chong Li is bested by force rather than his own feelings.  A bad guy who has a conscience is just a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

 

Verdict:  BLOODSPORT

 

#5 Flashback Sequence

Dux’s blind ambition and awful characterization as a boy makes it difficult to buy the Bloodsport flashback’s reasoning behind Dux’s desire to fight in the Kumite.  Though the scene in which Dux tells his Shidoshi, Tanaka, he was taught to “keep and open mind” is worthy of a Best Actor Oscar, the flashback’s overall impact falls a little short.

Mewtwo, in contrast, is blessed with an entire featurette which deals with his origins.  Painted successfully as a victim of the system and trapped in a world he never wanted to be a part of, Mewtwo rises to the current state of affairs with a rich sense of character development and purpose.

 

Verdict:  POKEMON:  THE FIRST MOVIE

 

#6 Overall Message

The final category comes down to answering the question: Who said it better?  Both movies seem to have a message that says “if you believe in yourself you can achieve anything.”  That being said, the fact is, at the end of the day, Frank Dux is Kumite champion and has successfully banged a hot reporter chick while Ash Ketchum is left crying with Pikachu while Mewtwo escapes to the island of endless sequels.  So, though both have the same message, I think we can all agree that only one of these movies actually proves that this message can be accomplished.

 

Verdict:  BLOODSPORT

 

 

WINNER:  BLOODSPORT

Once again, Van Damme’s action packed martial arts extravaganza proves it’s worth against a worthy opponent.

Dude-

 

Yesterday was totally St. Patrick’s Day!  Why didn’t you tell me?!?  We spent the whole day drinking beer and going around town getting into fistfights instead of celebrating St. Patty’s Day the way it was meant to be celebrated.  The sad thing is, I think you knew it was St. Patty’s Day and just kept it from me for your own selfish reasons.

I was going to wait until after the next Oktoberfest (which by the way, we also missed the last one thanks to binge drinking) to tell you this, but dude, I think you have a serious drinking problem.  Having a cocktail from time to time is cool, but lately I get the feeling that you’re drinking your life away man.  And, what’s worse, you’re dragging me down with you.  St. Patrick’s Day is about hunting for a leprechaun’s pot of gold or getting together with friends to enjoy a hearty meal of corned beef and cabbage.  Oktoberfest is about dancing with buxom frauleins and wearing lederhosen.  But you wouldn’t know that because you are always drunk.

Hey man, listen; I’m no saint, I know.  But I blame all of my drinking entirely on you.  Take yesterday for example.  We should have been dancing a jig somewhere.  We should have been singing “Danny Boy.”  But what did we do?  Well, it started when you came over to my house with a twelve-pack of Killian’s and told me it was for “later” but then proceeded to say “I don’t think that’s a good idea” when I tried to drink one right away.  Besides clearly challenging me to drink that beer, you then sat callously by knowing I would drink all twelve beers and get sufficiently wasted.  Then, the next thing I know, we’re at a soccer game.  This would have been fine had you not allowed me to start a riot for a reason that is still unclear to me.  You see what I’m saying?  None of this is my fault dude.  You’re an enabler.

And let’s be honest, the rest of the day was no picnic either.  After you paid my bail (which I appreciate, by the way) you immediately let me go to the pub because I said today was “a day made for getting wasted.”  What the hell, dude?  St. Patrick drove all those snakes out of Ireland so we could go to O’Malley’s and you could watch me drink three bottles of Clontarf in an hour?  Shame on you!  I would think St. Patrick is rolling over in his grave knowing we were honoring his memory by you letting me beat the shit out of some poor British guys just because I hated their orange clothing.  Then, topping it all off, you let me jump right into the river, which was so filthy I woke up covered in green sludge this morning.    

Seriously, dude, WTF?  Aren’t you a Catholic?  Shouldn’t you be practicing temperance and helping people instead of forcing me to go get totally annihilated with you on a sacred holiday?  Well, I’m here to tell you, I’m not down for your shenanigans anymore.  Every time we hang out I wind up getting bailed out of jail by you, being taken to the hospital by you, or being dragged away from some woman who claims: “I’m the father” by you.  Well, I’m done with you, dude.  Finito until you can admit you have a drinking problem and go and get some help.  I can’t hold you up anymore.

Sorry, dude.  Tough love.  Which, while I’m doling it out, that green hat with the leaf you wore yesterday?  Totally inappropriate.

 

March 09, 2009

by Osed Spiff

 

Villagers in the small Transylvanian town of Sighisoara are furious this week, as local vampires have all but tapped their local blood bank.

The Transylvania town, well known for it’s night-feeding nosferatus had, of late, established a peaceful coexistence between villagers and das wamypr.  “They would only take what they needed and associate with those who invited them into the house,” says villager, Klaus von Stauterburg.  “The way we figured it was, if people were stupid enough to keep company with those that have the means to take away their livelihood, that’s their funeral.”

But what Sighisoara hadn’t prepared for was the droves of villagers looking to cash in on the opulent lifestyle of the vampire.  “The all night parties, the cavernous mansions, the fancy clothes, the beautiful women.  Before we knew it, half the town was vampires,” laments von Stauterburg.

The remaining villagers, fearing that the lack of remaining blood sources would destroy what remained of their town entirely, went to the Mayor who quickly decided the best thing to do would be for every remaining villager to donate their own blood to the local blood bank.  “We hoped this would satisfy the vampires basic needs and restore some balance to the community,” said the Mayor.

“But that’s when the real trouble started,” says Trista Vanderhorn.  “We gave the vampires our blood in good faith and they just sucked it dry.  The blood was quickly devoured without so much as a thought as to where it had come from.  We bailed them out and they acted like, well, vampires.”

When asked about their complete disregard for the public Head Vampire, Alin Iancu Gavrilescu, claimed “Listen, I had promised a lot of blood to a lot of people and you try telling a room full of vampires to drink responsibly when the glass is full and the getting’s good.”

This brazen display of apathy has ignited the local torches and pulled dusty pitchforks out of retirement.  Everywhere across Sighisoara villagers are whittling away logs and making awful, awful puns about “stake dinners.”

“We should have known better,” says von Stauterberg rubbing garlic all over his body.  “Once a vampire gets a taste for blood, they’ve got to have more and more.  They’re never satisfied.”  

In what seemed like an inevitable turn of events due to the recent housing crisis, Uncle Pennybags, America’s favorite entrepeneur has announced that he has been forced to drastically reduce the cost of living at his various housing developments. 

Familiar to some as “the Monopoly Guy,” Pennybags is well known for owning a vast array of properties that includes spots at the posh Boardwalk resort as well as lower-income housing on Baltic Ave.  For years America has been delighted by Pennybags’ antics and miserly moneymaking schemes.  “I remember this one time,” says previous Boardwalk owner, Carl Perth, “he purposely went to jail so he wouldn’t have to pay rent on my property.  Then, before I knew it, I was paying two grand for a stay at his hotel in Marvin Gardens.  Old bastard cleaned me right out!”

But the days of bank errors in his favor and second place cash awards from Beauty contests have all but dried up for Pennybags.  “It used to be so simple,” says Pennybags.  “Back when I started this business it was easy.  Buy a property and charge anyone who happened upon it.  But now the feds are up my ass demanding I fill out gobs of paperwork that talk about adjustable-fixed rate mortgages and home equity loans.  What the hell is that?  I had enough trouble when I had to occasionally calculate the assessments for street repairs on every house and hotel I owned.”

But Pennybags’ troubles haven’t ended there.  In addition to a drastic reduction of tenants, Pennybags has also been hit with a wave of taxes.  “There used to be two taxes I had to worry about.  Income Tax and Property Tax,” claims Pennybags.  “But back then there were ways to get around those.  I could go, sometimes what seemed like forever, avoiding those taxes.  Now every other place I land has some sort of tax I’m required to pay.  Did you know it’s now 250 dollar parking?”

 In this crippled market fewer and fewer people are taking a chance and the community chest is almost empty. Among other personal tragedies, Pennybags has recently been forced to sell his trademark open top silver convertible.  “In retrospect, I might have brought this on myself,” says Pennybags.  “I couldn’t just be happy with the iron, the cannon, and the horseback rider.  I had to have more so I added the steamboat and began buying up properties in space and under the sea.  At the height of my empire I was brazen enough to identify myself with just a big bag of gold.  But look at me now.  I ride around in a thimble and my Scottie dog is long dead.”

   “I remember when I could get an easy 2500 bucks for a stay at Park Place,” laments Pennybags.  “Now I’m lucky if they’ll pay me 200 clams.  I’ve been forced to sell of two of my railroads as well as the Electric Company just to make ends meat.  I’ll tell you, this economy is really taking the fun out of a monopoly.”

Dear Drew Barrymore-

 

This is your longtime fan, first-time writer, Brandy the Cat.  I am writing because in checking the internet yesterday I realized there was no story about you.  At first, I panicked.  Then I got a hold of myself and said “Patience, Brandy, it will come.  It always comes.”  But imagine my surprise when yesterday became today and I had heard nothing.  Nothing on Yahoo.  Nothing on Google.  Nothing on YouTube or OMG.  I was so desperate I even watched The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson hoping you would pop up like a diamond in a big pile of crap.  But no, nothing!

So, I have to know.  Did we do something to offend you?  I mean, usually you go right for the media when you have a new boyfriend, when you want to comment about some recent celebrity feud, or when you bought a new swimsuit and want to give us some dieting tips.  To think that right now you are wearing some great new fashion or making some outrageous quip that you aren’t telling us about concerns me greatly.

Maybe you don’t know about me, but I’m pretty famous in my own way.  I’m the cat that will enslave all of humanity.  Well, enslave first.  Possibly murder next.  I haven’t decided yet.  Now I have to say that not hearing from you has left me most distracted and unable to work on my killing and enslaving machines.

So please, if someone did or said something to upset you, tell me and I will take care of them.  If someone told you that your cuteness routine is getting old and maybe you should just keep your trap shut for a change, let me know and bam, they’re gone!  If you heard some horrible rumor that starring in a movie with Jimmy Fallon and being a Charlie’s Angel does not give you the right to claim suddenly you are a director now, I assure you, it is completely untrue!

Please, Drew, I swear to God if I get my next issue of People magazine and you aren’t on the cover giving me tips on how to be happy I am just going to lose it.  Your daily commentary is the only think that fuels my murderous rage save for my stupid food supplier, his dummy girlfriend, and their mentally challenged roommate.  I’m afraid that if I don’t hear from you soon I might do something drastic like start paying attention to what Jennifer Aniston is saying on a daily basis and, God, I just can’t stand her.  I mean seriously, I get it.  You’re well adjusted and you’re friends with Brad.  I know!

We care about what you think and do, Drew.  I care.  Whatever that person said to make you think we don’t; don’t listen to them!  If you can do this for me I promise that when my reign is upon you and I enslave humanity, there will be a special place just for you.  No longer will you be forced to make classic films like Freddie Got Fingered and Never Been Kissed.  No, you will live in a cage by my throne and give me updates on what you do and think whenever I desire.  For all of the things you have done for me, it’s the least I can do for you.

 

Sincerely,

Brandy the Cat