Try, Try Again

“Okay Gus, it’s Friday night, we got a bottle of whiskey, a Tony Montana-sized-amount of coke and a laptop. Let’s come up with some reboot ideas!”

“Beautiful Stan. What cha got?”

“Alright, hmmmm. People liked Dinosaurs, right? That was a popular show in the 90s. Let’s bring them back.”

“Umm, I’m pretty sure they all died in the last episode Stan. Killed by a sudden ice age brought about by environmental pollution or some shit.”

“Who cares G-Dawg? Easy fix. They find a time machine and travel to our present time and try to live like normal dinosaurs in the modern world, trying to go to school and hold down jobs whilst wearing shirts but no pants. They have a stone house and animal appliances. Wait, was that them or The Flintstones with animal slave labor? Who cares, we can still make it work!”

“Alright Stan, I’ll put that in the ‘maybe pile. What’s next?”

“Okay, okay. Let’s see….Ooh! How about we reboot ALF? Everybody loves that little scamp and his acerbic sense of humor!”

“Well, in the last episode, he was captured by the government and it was implied that he was going to be experimented on and dissected.”

“Really? Wow, that’s some heavy stuff for a kids’ show about a small, fuzzy, adorable alien. That was the thing that drew everybody into that show! Tell you what, let’s say the government does experiment on him, but they turn him into a full-sized adult male? That way, we bring the nostalgic fans in with what they think they want, but instead we give them what they don’t want, there by telling them what they really wanted all along!”

“That doesn’t make any sense Stan.”

“Yeah it does! And as an adult male, he works as a P.I. using his knowledge of Melmac and what cats taste like, to solve murders! We’ll call it Gordon Shumway, PI!”

“Who’s Gordon Shumway?”

“Duh G-Man, that’s ALF’s real name.”

“So why do they call him ALF?”

“Sigh, it stands for Alien Life Form. You think ET’s name was ET? Nope, his name was Barry Schwartzberg. Get with it man.”

“Anyway, enough about ALF. But you do seem to be really stuck on rebooting tv shows with puppets.”

“Puppets! Yes! Brilliant! We’ll bring back Today’s Special? But make it edgier!”

“…Stan, only you and maybe five Canadians in their late 30s remember that bullshit show.”

“Exactly. This is the 21^st Century G-Wheezy, the age of the Millennials. The more obscure and pointless shit they know, the cooler they are in the eyes of their shiftless brethren. We could make it a web-only show. All of the puppets will be addicted to opioids, (so topical! “Ripped from today’s headlines!”) the mannequin guy is a gigolo, but only for men who are into stiff pieces of wood (get it?)  and the black chick is an inept hitman. We’ll make that shit viral!”

“These ideas are insane Stan. I love them! But tell me, why are we doing reboots of previously existing properties? Are the legends true? Has the prophesy come to pass? Is Hollywood out of original, creative ideas?”

“Of course not! Why just look at Jupiter Ascending. That was very original and creat…actually, forget that one. Rebooting previous franchises means we already have a built-in audience for whatever it is. Plus, there’s always the nostalgia factor. No matter how garbagy something was when people were kids, they only remember it with fondness. That, combined with bringing in a new audience and pushing merchandise is why you’ve got Michael Bay rebooting Transformers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

“Oh, that seems kind of soulless and manipulative. Don’t you think? Aren’t we here to create fresh, innovate and entertaining works of art for people to enjoy? Or are we here to just make easy money and take sexual advantage of naive, innocent young women looking for their big break in ‘Tinsel town’?”

“Wait. Who hired you again?”

We Like To Party!

O brother, where art thou? Come back to us Mr. Six! Come back! We miss you ever so much. We miss your tuxedo, your fancy shoes, your suspenders, the classy red bow tie. And, of course, those ever so stylish glasses.

Your weird, creepy face though? Not so much.

The summer is nigh and this country needs the kind of solace and respite only a withered, insane old, over-dressed man can provide. Speaking of which, why are you wearing a tuxedo in the summer bruh? And even more so, why are you wearing a full tuxedo at a WATER PARK, my dude? You don’t see me wearing jams and holding a boogie board at weddings. It’s called decorum.

Anyway, I like to imagine a typical muggy D.C. area summer’s morning with people melting on the sidewalk like ice cream cones in the sun, when all of a sudden, a dated, gaudy red-and-yellow bus pulls up and a snazzily-dressed homunculus jumps out and proceeds to have a Grand Mal seizure set to bad 90s music. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? Doesn’t that just scream summer?!

This is why we need you Mr. Six! You embody summertime fun. Also, there have recently been less maimings and accidental deaths* at Six Flags’ 31 amusement parks than one would expect. Less than 50 people have been precariously trapped on roller coasters for several spine-chilling hours over the last decade. Less then two dozen children and senior citizens have been violently tossed from various rides only to land on the hard, unyielding concrete in the same time frame. Only around ten or so guests and trainers have been attacked and/or gored by tigers, elephants and other safari inhabitants.

I mean, some park workers have been killed by roller coasters, but they knew what they signed up for, so nuts to them.

Compared to that waterside in Kansas that decapitated an 11-year-old boy, (I almost included a link, but decided against it, you’re welcome) Six Flags (Motto: Would You Rather Waste Your Money At Disney?)  is doing pretty well. Who wouldn’t want to be associated with such a great safety track record?

But you don’t have to take my word for it, just listen to these true responses when I went to a local playground to ask kids if they missed Mr. Six.

“Who?”

“No, I don’t want any of your candy mister!”

“Are you supposed to be here?”

“Baba Booey.”

“Help! Police!”

Ha ha ha! Those wacky kids. Truly, children are our future. But as you can tell, not only are you missed, but there’s an entire new generation of America’s youth that needs to be introduced to your manic and off-putting physical hijinks. You need to come back to inform and entertain (yeah, entertain is a pretty strong word for what you do, but I mean it!).

So until the glorious second (third?) coming of Chri…I mean Mr. Six, I’ll maintain a heart full of hope and keep the home fires burning.

HAVE A SUMMAH!

*Or were they…purposeful murders?

Eighty-Four Glyde Libs

For those of you who are unaware, or had terrible childhoods, Mad Libs was a word game for rambunctious kids during road trips. They were books that contained a couple dozen short “stories” a few paragraphs long that had certain words missing. The goal wasn’t to try and figure out which word was supposed to fit into the sentence, in fact, the kid guessing the word didn’t even know what the story was. One kid would have the book and every time there was a blank in a sentence, the book would altruistically tell you what type of word fit there, such as “noun”, or “adjective” or “part of body”, and the other kid just picks a noun or adjective at random. At the end the kid with the book would read the entire story with the words inserted and both younglings would laugh uproariously at the gobblety-gook they had created. Fun for everybody!

But who said Mad Libs are just for kids*? What happens when a group of fun-loving adults get together with some incredibly adult libations, decide to give in to their immature yearnings and do some Mad Libs?

You get Eighty-Four Glyde Libs, of course!

HOW TO SPEAK LIKE A SPY

Spies speak their own SLIMY language. Common terms include:

Target—a person or an APPLE of interest whom a spy watches come and CREAM.

Surveillance—to monitor or observe a FIRE with visual, listening, or FASTING equipment like cameras, satellites, or long-distance BALLS.

Bug—a FUNKY device that can be placed on an object such as a car, remote control, or CARphone to listen in on a target’s SWEATY conversations.

Alias—the name a spy uses-like Ronald McDonald or ASHLEY-while undercover.

Mole—a BLACK HOLE from one spy organization who gets a job within a rival STUMP organization in order to obtain inside information or other secret APPLES.

Classified—sensitive and DUSTY information that only certain levels of CHIPS have authorized clearance to access.

A SPY BIRTHDAY PARTY**

When I turned 15 years-old, my mom and ASS threw an AVUNCULAR spy-themed birthday party for me. I invited ten of my closest TURTLES, and we spent a HAIRY afternoon doing cool spy stuff. We slipped black sunglasses on our TOES, grabbed MEANDERING toy cell phones, and practiced our surveillance techniques with a game of hide-and-SQUATING around my backyard. We decoded COMFORTABLE messages that my parents had written on colorful BACTERIA. We pounded on a CHAIR-shaped piñata with a wooden HUMAN FLESH, and we put spy tattoos like binoculars, computers and micro-YURTS all over our EYES. Later my mom served cake and ZITS, and everyone sang “SPARKILY Birthday” to me. I got a ton of HEROIC gifts, but my favorite was the motion-activated MEAT that would alert me to any UVULAS about to sneak into my room. Every good spy needs one of these!

FROM THE SPY FILE

To Agent JOSH: At this morning’s SCRAPPY management meeting, it was decided by Agency Chief SNOOP DOGG that you are being assigned to the case known internally as Operation MILKING WART. This memo will provide the MOIST details of the case, and you will be briefed further in the coming week. As you may know, this case involves a band of FLAKEY thieves who stole the blueprints to a top-secret robot GOITER that threatens the security of our LUMPY country. They have hidden the prints somewhere in a STIFF location on the outskirts of the SAVAGE LANDS. Their leader’s name is Uno Ojo, which translates to FLEXIBLE COCK. You will know him by the black eye patch he wears over his TAINT. Be advised that he and his group of evil STARS are armed and BUMPY, so use extreme caution if you come face-to-HEMMEROID with any of them. As any good spy knows, you’re of no use to the agency if you’re PUNGENT.

*Mature adults who don’t understand the concept of fun and who sit in their depressing office cubicles trying to buy Crocs for their dogs or some shit. That’s who!  

**Yes, these are all spy related.