Hollywood, California --
Forced to sell his own memorabilia in order to make ends meet years back, Gary Coleman then child star of 1970s show sensation ‘Diff’rent Strokes’ even sold the copyrights to his trademark catch phrase: ‘What you talking about Willis’ on eBay with much regret, family and friends claiming that he was not the same ever since.
“It’s like the day he sold his catch phrase, a little piece of him died that day,” said James Morris, a close friend of the Coleman family.
Contractually forbidden as a condition of the sale from ever saying his catch phrase either publicly or privately ever again, Coleman resorted to secretly saying it to himself in a darkened closet.
“He’d sit there in the dark for hours,” said Morris. “Saying to himself over and over again: ‘What you talking about Willis….What you talking about Willis…What you talking about Willis…”
Over the years, Coleman became increasingly fixated on speaking the forbidden catch phrase, which contributed to his recurring unemployment in the end.
“He was obsessed,” said a former employer, who terminated Coleman after catching him in the act.
Reportedly, Coleman would often excuse himself from his duties as a parking lot security guard, claming to have to use the restroom.
“Then he would walk across the parking lot over to the ‘Port-A-Potty,” according to a former fellow security guard. “Lock the door behind him and say to himself over and over again: ‘What you talking about Willis…What you talking about Willis…What you talking about Willis…”
Finally, after being terminated from his most recent job, Coleman’s family and friends gathered to attempt an intervention.
“But that wasn’t very successful,” said Phyllis Washington, another close Coleman family friend. “Because when we confronted him, he’d just say: ‘What you talking about Phyllis…What you talking about Phyllis… What you talking about Phyllis…”
Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo
Hollywood, California --
'Pink's Hot Dogs', the world famous roadside phallic symbol fast-food Americana restaurant, paid homage to the octogenarian actress, Betty White, today. By dedicating one of its hotdogs, the so-called 'Naked Dog', which was inspired by her longtime Hollywood acting career, in her honor.
"We wanted to name a hotdog that says -- just by looking at it now -- that's Betty White," said a spokesman for 'Pink's'. "But that's so much easier to do with a male actor. So we settled on honoring how Betty White, and other actresses from her era, spent most of their careers instead: naked and on the casting couch."
"With the 'hotdog' representing the male phallic, dominating the Hollywood industry," interjected a psychiatrist. "And the 'bun' representing, ah...representing the casting couch, of course."
"It's true," said Betty White as she sat down at a bench table outside of Pink's waiting to be served her namesake. "I was laid out on my back on some director's casting couch more than I care to recall, if I could that is. All I remember is those awful bed sores. But I have no regrets. Well, except for the time I wasted sleeping with the writers. Say, where's my hotdog?"
Betty White continued to openly confess to being exposed to a promiscuous lifestyle of Caligula like orgies and enjoying it, putting to bed many of the rumors of her alleged affairs with the leading men of the silver screen of her day.
"I was such a whore back then. But then again, who wasn't?" said Betty White impatiently looking about for her hotdog. "And quite the bitch too. Oh was I a bitch. If you ever got in my way, I'd cut you. But that was back in the day when I carried a blade."
Finally, Betty White was served her hotdog with all the fanfare. With Pink's staff, media and well-wishers alike standing by watching.
"Oh, is this my hotdog?" asked a seemingly coy Betty White as she held up the tubular shaped meat stick up to her mouth, using both white gloved hands. "Why it looks just like a big [BLEEP], doesn't it?"
As Betty White sunk her teeth into the foot-long all Nebraskan corn fed beef wiener that came with no toppings, she struggled to talk with her mouth full.
"Who knew I never use condiments on my wieners?" inquired Betty White, as she looked Pink's staff up and down. "I don't remember having slept with any of you. Though it's quite possible. You all have so many clothes on, I can't tell."
Sensing discomfort in the atmosphere, Betty White made her best effort at causal conversation to defuse the tension in the air.
"Away, that was back in my day when you could get away with it...condiments, I mean," continued Betty White as she began to fidget in her bench seat, losing her train of thought. "And all you had to deal with was the occasional illegal abortion or two down Mexico way. Say, that reminds me of Anthony Quinn. Is he still alive? That man was built like a horse. Do you have a hotdog named after him, too? You do. Could I order one? Wait...better make that two, and to go. I never fill up on just the one, you know. It's a bad habit leftover from the old days...what?"
Feeling uncomfortable with all the judgmental looks she was receiving, Betty White reached for her purse as she recanted.
"Of course, you don't have to worry about me now days," said Betty White as she pulled something shiny and sharp from her purse, cupping it in her white gloved hand. "I'm just a sweet harmless little old lady."Copyright © 2010 by Robert W. Armijo
Hollywood, California --
Calling an impromptu press conference to announce her latest agreed upon movie deal – the third installment of the original ‘Speed’ movie series, which she first starred in back in 1994 and 1997 -- a somewhat dazed looking, visibly shaken and obviously emotionally distraught, Sandra Bullock slowly crossed the stage still dressed in her polka-a-dot pajamas, fuzzy bear claw footy slippers and miffed up hairdo with some help from two female assistants at both her sides. As she sat down at a green felt topped table with a single microphone placed in the center of it, amateur journalists, seasoned reporters and war hardened correspondents alike looked on teary eyed at what had become of America’s Sweetheart.
Sandra Bullock’s family, closest friends and even ‘Speed’ co-star Keanu Reeves earlier in the predawn hours of the new day had attempted an intervention, trying to convince her to voluntarily commit herself to a psychiatric ward at a local hospital, but she refused.
“Instead Sandra stormed out of the house in the middle of the night, calling her publicist demanding that she immediately set up a press conference,” said a close family friend. “We didn’t know she was that upset. Not to the point of committing career suicide by agreeing to do another ‘Speed ’ movie.”
“I thank you all for coming so early today. Especially on such short notice,” said Sandra Bullock speaking just above a whisper, her eyes appearing puffy and red, as if she had been crying all night along. “I won’t be taking any questions regarding the disintegration of my marriage…or the betrayal of my trust in humanity. Just about my decision to reprise my recurring role in the ‘Speed’ movie series with my good, loyal and true friend, Keanu Reeves.”
Just then an assistant reappeared on stage, leaning down to whisper something into Sandra Bullock’s ear.
“What?” said a somewhat bothered Sandra Bullock, before she slumped her head into her hands. “Oh God. Why me? Why me?”
“When we tried to have her involuntarily committed,” continued Bullock’s close friend. “But we were told by both legal and medical professionals that she had to pose a physical danger to either herself or others, first.”
Seeing Sandra Bullock’s condition worsen before her eyes, the female assistant grabbed the microphone, attempting to cancel the rest of the press conference. Following a brief struggle between the two, however, Sandra Bullock prevailed, regaining control of the microphone, and her press conference.
“No! I said I’ll be fine!” screamed Sandra Bullock at her assistant. “Are you deaf or something?”
After taking a few minutes to compose herself, wiping away tears, blowing her nose and repeatedly placing her head down on the green felt table, just to raise it up again and again, Sandra Bullock continued.
“Well, it seems my trusted friend Keanu Reeves – a man -- has betrayed me, too,” said an embittered Sandra Bullock. “Now he says he has a prior commitment and can’t do the movie with me after all. Isn’t that just so typical of a man, changing his mind like he changes his socks, underwear or lovers. Well, I’m going to prove to y‘all -- especially you men out there -- that I don’t need you anymore. I’ll make ‘Speed 3: Road Rage’ all by myself, so there. I’ll show you.”
Upon hearing of Sandra Bullock’s intention to make another ‘Speed’ movie, however, a judge immediately approved the family’s petition to have the disturbed starlet remanded into the custody of a psychiatric hospital for observation and evaluation.
“Allowing the alleged mental patient to make another installment of the ‘Speed’ movie series is all the evidence this Court needs to prove both mental and emotional instability,” wrote the judge in his decision. “And therefore, I rule the alleged mental patient presents a clear and present danger not only to herself, but especially others as well.”Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo
Hollywood, California --
Not to be out booked by his chief competitor and airwave rival, Jay Leno, just because he does not have a late night TV show to call his home any more, Conan O’Brien has managed to attract top celebrities to his ‘Twitter’ show, which he conducts from a Potemkin Village like studio made of construction paper, cardboard cutouts and lawn furniture under a tree in his backyard – of course, he has failed to mention to his fans that follow him on ‘Twitter’ that they are all celebrity impersonators.
“Tonight my special guest is Robert De Niro of ‘Taxi Driver’ fame,” Tweeted Conan O’Brien to his fans. “That’s right. And he’ll be doing that ‘Are you talking to me’ routine from the movie too. Man, that just creeps me out every time I see that.”
As Conan O’Brien rises to his feet to greet his celebrity imposter he is shocked to see that is it the real Robert De Niro walking onto his makeshift set he has erected adjacent to his kid’s dollhouse, which doubled as the waiting guests’ green room.
“Wow!” said Conan O’Brien as he struggled to ‘Tweet’ and greet his famous guest at the same time. “You’re the real Robert De Niro, aren’t you? I’ mean, of course you are. Who else would you be? I mean have on my show, but the real actor? And not some cheap celebrity knockoff or something.”
“Yeah, it’s me, Bobby De Niro,” said Robert De Niro as he takes a seat on an aluminum lawn chair next to Conan O’Brien’s white plastic table, covered with colorful flower stickers of red, yellow and orange. “I heard you were in a little trouble…and it looks like I heard right.”
“Yeah…,” said Conan O’Brien stalling for time as he signals to his 12-year-old stage director, a neighborhood kid, to cut to a commercial break.
“But we don’t have any sponsors!” replies the stage director, removing a Popsicle from his mouth in order to speak.
“…about that,” continued Conan O’Brien his eyes fixed on a small shadowy figure that moved among the braches and leaves above his head. “Just a little trouble… here and there. You know how show businesses is.”
“You know, Conan,” said a serious sounding Robert De Niro looking directly into O’Brien’s eyes. “I once played a comedian talk show host in a movie with a setup similar to this but in a basement. He too was obsessed with – ”
Suddenly an acorn came flying out of the tree, striking Robert De Niro on the head.
“What in the hell was that?” said Robert De Niro looking from side to side before bending over to pickup an acorn nut from the ground.
“It’s that squirrel. It’s amazing,” said Conan O’Brien to Robert De Niro, both now looking up at the tree from their seats. “It’s like that Russian mystic, Rasputin. Rasputin incarnate. The thing just won’t die.”
“Have you tried rat poison,” said Robert De Niro, still attempting to get a peek at the squirrel from his lawn chair.
“Yeah, I even bought this pellet gun,” said Conan O’Brien, as he pulled out a BB-gun from its holster he wore under his coat.
“You mind if I give it a try,” said Robert De Niro as he strapped on Conan O’Brien’s pellet gun and holster to his chest.
Conan O’Brien tweeting away to his fans as fast as he could, “You guys won’t believe what Robert De Niro is doing in my backyard right now.”
As Robert De Niro walked up to the trunk of the tree, looking up, a vague little shadowy figure scurried high up to the treetop.
“See,” said a confident Robert De Niro waving his arms loosely about his side. “Just the sight of me headed in its direction was enough to scare it away.”
Suddenly, just as before an acorn nut came from seemingly out of nowhere striking Robert De Niro on the head again. In fact, hitting him in the exact same spot.
Robert De Niro, checking for blood with his hand, unbuttoned his jacket exposing the holstered pellet gun. Then looking back in Conan O’Brien’s direction but at him, he began to re-enact his famous scene from ‘Taxi Driver’.”
“Co-staring then child actress protégée, Jodie Foster,” tweeted Conan O’Brien from under the table.
“What? Are you talking to me?” said Robert De Niro addressing the squirrel as Conan O’Brien stopped twittering for a moment and the stage director’s Popsicle fell to the ground. “Are you throwing your nuts at me? I don’t see anybody else here but me.”
Suddenly, just as before again, except as if fired from a machine gun this time came a shower of acorn nuts, pelting Robert De Niro.
“Excuse me,” Tweeted Conan O’Brien. “I have go rescue my hero, Robert De Niro from a squirrel.”
Using the white plastic table as cover, Conan O’Brien and his adolescent stage director were able to reach Robert De Niro who was sprawled out under the tree under a pile of acorn nuts.
“Come with me if you want to live,” said Conan O’Brien, holding out his outstretched hand to a dazed and confused looking Robert De Niro.
“Maybe you’re just too close to the squirrel’s ‘Home Tree’ like in that James Cameron movie,” said a defeated Robert De Niro, suggesting that Conan O’Brien move his makeshift cardboard studio back a little away form the squirrel’s tree. “What do you say, Conan?”
Conan O’Brien, turning to his freckled faced stage director, said as he tweeted, “Looks like I should’ve went with my gut and booked that Joe Pesci celebrity impersonator instead.”
Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo
Universal City, California --
Not one to disappoint his fans, Conan O’Brien, former host of ‘The Tonight Show’ and consummate funnyman, used his ‘Twitter’ account to keep in shape since leaving the late night talk show circuit by conducting his first interview from his backyard. His first guest: a squirrel he encountered. However, the cute skit quickly turned ugly, resulting in him having to cut to commercial and asking for assistance.
“Today I interviewed a squirrel in my backyard. Then threw to commercial. Somebody help me,” ‘Tweeted’ Conan O’Brien to his loyal fans who eagerly await his return to network TV, cable or even the Internet.
“Conan O’Brien has never been funnier,” said Wanda Sykes, a comedienne, sitcom TV star, talk show host on FOX and Jay Leno fan when she received the O’Brien ‘Tweet’, thinking it was a joke. “I laughed so hard when I read it. I said to myself, ‘Too bad he couldn’t be that funny on ‘The Tonight Show’.”
Unfortunately for Conan O’Brien it was no joke.
“Due to the limited number of characters someone can ‘Tweet’ to express themselves,” said a spokesman for ‘Twitter’. “Conan O’Brien’s cry for help was misinterpreted by those who received his brief message.”
“He [Conan O’Brien] thought it would be funny to interview a squirrel that lives in a tree in our backyard,” explained Mrs. O’Brien to the fire department that responded to her 911 call, as they attended to her husband who was laid out on the lawn under a tree. “So he sat down at the playhouse we got for the kids and started interviewing this, this squirrel.”
However, Conan O’Brien did not realize that he was sitting across the table having a cup of tea with a rabid squirrel that quickly lunged at him, attacking him.
“I guess his instincts as a professional talk show host kicked in,” said Mrs. O’Brien.
While he struggled to remove the squirrel attached to his face, Conan O’Brien maintained his composure by throwing to a commercial before asking for help.
“All the while he was still ‘Tweeting’ to his fans,” said Mrs. O’Brien.
Mrs. O’Brien managed to scare off the squirrel with a garden hose, washing it off her husband’s face.
“He always puts his fans first,” said Mrs. O’Brien attempting to comfort the crying O’Brien children as they waved bye-bye to their father.
As the paramedics lifted up Conan O’Brien on the gurney, locking the wheels in place and began rolling him out to the ambulance parked in the driveway, he spoke to the EMT’s from beneath his oxygen mask, his pale white face bearing tiny red scratch marks.
“Could you X-ray my stomach when we get to the hospital? I think that squirrel laid an egg inside me, or something,” said frightened looking Conan O’Brien, his trademarked red quaff of a cowlick all a muss. “Wait…did you see that? My chest…did it bulge just now? Or was that the wind blowing up my shirt? Oh my God! Get it off of me! Get it off me! Now back to you Ed…Heeerrreee’s Johnny!”
Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo
Hollywood, California --
