Saturday, October 8, 2011

I DON'T KNOW HOW, BUT LES MOONVES JUST GOT MIXED UP IN ALL THIS. WHO KNOWS? MAYBE HE LIKED HIS CAMEO ON ENTOURAGE?

That Young North American Kid, you may remember, had cousins in California. One of 'em is none other than Mister Les Moonves, the uber president of CBS Television Network. He was expecting a New Year's skipe from his little cuz and got kind of worried when he didn't get it. So he called out the under contract, corporate necromancers and had 'em look into things. Well, fortyfive minutes later, after reading the entrails of three, not so enthusiastic, less than willing Chiweenies and making a hell of a mess on his genuine, Brazilian Cherry floors, they come up with something. He says - What? And they tell him all about the stuff going on high in the hills, outside the Old City of Jerusalem.  This does not come as a great shock,  since one of his fiances, back in the day, turned out to be a vampire. That's not why they did not get married. There were other reasons. You're gonna have to Google them, if you wanna know. Cause I don't wanna get involved in that shit. Yes, I am yet another disembodied spirit-narrator, but them Hollywood hot shots got people everywhere. And I do NOT wanna be demoted to a bus station toilet ghost again, OK!?!?

So certain network functionaries get sent over to Tel Aviv on the next 'wings of eagles.' That's what they call 'em sometimes. They can get real biblical. Who knows? Maybe five hundred years from now, this gonna be a new book in the Bible? HEY, MA! IT'S ME! LOOK, I"M HERE! I'M HERE!! And after a thirteen hour flight on some dumb eagle that only got little bags a peanuts and microwaved kosher hotdogs, they swoop down onto the tarmac and fan out to find the naive threatened relative.

When the evil jinn population in the area hears about Moonves' connection to all this, they start to panic. I mean, they know what L.A. media people can do. They seen I Dream of Jeannie. And none of 'em is eager to  play''bitch' to some sweaty, mumbling ass-tro-nut livin' in an old, gypsy-lookin' chianti bottle, some place in South Florida. Palm Beach, or South Beach, or a nice place with an ocean view maybe. But what are the chances of that happening? So they direct three or four human familiars back to the house to do a bit of clean up work. Mesmerized human familiars are the best. Don't have to buy 'em no latex gloves or nothing. Just feed 'em a few juiced up felafel balls and point 'em in the right direstion.

Sarah heard 'em scratchin' away at the stone wall. She tries to holler out to them but her voice is still all dry and raspy. The Young, North American, Moonves Cousin can't do much either, 'cause he so weak from losin' blood and all. Nobody else in there  with 'em 'cept for six, well groomed, shiny cock roaches and they wasn't payin' too much attention, 'cause they busy lapin' up all the left over pee-pee on the floor.

Seein' as this is gonna take a while....You know we write everything in real time? So might as well go look through some of the episodes you may have missed. Or better yet...leave a comment.....Everybody gets to play Cap'n Jack on this Jolly Roger.....If you got any ideas, spit 'em out. ..... And leave a link, 'cause we are not stingy when it comes to publicity......Oh, yeah....one more thing.... If anybody out there in laptop land knows how to turn on  the spell checker, keep it to yourself and mind you own beeswax. We like things just the way they are.

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