Time keeps on slippin'

The older you get, the faster everything speeds up. The effect is good in a way, because it makes the "This is Our Country" commercials and Arizona Cardinals losses speed by faster, but on the other hand it also makes the things you want to spend a little more time with - like your 20s - vanish all too quickly. I feel like I'm on that amusement park ride that goes in circles faster and faster until I'm pinned up against the side and the bottom drops out and I bite a gash out of the inside of my cheek.

As time continues to speed up and death draws closer, I become more and more convinced that TV sports and video games are a waste of time, and that by spending time staring at a TV in anger over an ultimately meaningless game people a thousand miles away from me are playing, or zoning out with a guitar-shaped controller in my hand, failing for the 30th time in one hour to get pass one song I'll never have a chance of conquering, I'm squandering what little time I've been given. And yet as I age I'm even more drawn to piddling distractions, as if they're safety blankets I grasp and cower under in order to shelter my senses from the inevitable.

And yet none of this is tragedy. Mortality is simply a plot device that adds a little sense of urgency to what would otherwise be an inconsequential, unending existence. Besides, living forever in a world that allows John Mellencamp songs to be played ad nauseum in Chevy commercials wouldn't be worth it. Those Spaniards who looked for the Fountain of Youth were dumbasses. And so was Darren Aronofsky for making that horrible, unintelligible film "The Fountain." You know who I respect, though? Those intrepid souls who cheer for winning NFL teams and are able to pass "Guitar Hero III."

Failure future

I'm disappointed that it's 2007 and we're no closer to the future than we were in 1997 or 1987. And by "future," I'm referring, of course, to "Back to the Future Part II," with its vision that I'm skeptical will actually ever come to exist. The world's scientists and engineers have failed us. Forget flying cars. We're only 8 years away, and we don't even have any hoverboards yet. No moving trash cans, either. The only thing we'll actually have is the sports almanac, but we'll lack the time-traveling De Loreans to make them useful. The best we can do in terms of futuristic travel are the Prius and Segway? Come on.

While I'm on the subject of futility, I must say that it's pointless to battle giant fires humans have no chance of putting out. It's like trying to put out a hurricane, or trying to stop a car by running onto the road and punching it.

How do I continue to function?

When the Arizona Cardinals peck my bleeding heart out every single week? Why, Neil Rackers, must you execute such a perfect onside kick to make me think the Cardinals have a shot at winning just after I'd given up hope, only to shank a 55-yard field goal 20 seconds later? Why, Kurt Warner, must you follow up a spectacular come-from-behind touchdown pass with a touchdown pass to a defensive back from the other team? At least I know you won't crush me next week, because you'll be on a bye.

Words to live by

Misfortune favors the bold.

If at first you don't succeed, sue.

"One in the hand is worth two in the bush" would make a good punchline in a porno.

When the going gets tough, the tough get owing.

Look before you leap out of the limo with no underwear on.

No rest for the wicked.

Early to bed and early to rise makes you miss out on the night life.

All work and no play make Jack a successful stock broker.

Cleanliness is next to an OCD diagnosis.

An Apple a day keeps Bill Gates at bay.

Children are meant to be seen, but not on ill-conceived Fox reality shows.

Winning isn't everything, but it will be once they finally get rid of the damn BCS.

You can't buy happiness, but you can borrow it from a payday loan place provided you don't mind the 300 percent interest.

The best things in life are free, but the Wal-Mart DVD value bin is still a damn good deal.

It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you're able to deny afterward that you used performance-enhancing drugs.

Music tames the savage priest.

All kids' toys from China are poison.

No More Interviews

Thanks for sticking around throughout my fake interview phase, which seemed to last forever. I promise it's over now. On to bigger and better things, such as... more fake interviews! Just kidding. No more of those, really. I can totally stop myself from doing them. Watch:

Non-interview: Shrek.

PV: Shrek, I refuse to interview fake people anymore.

S: Damn, I thought I was gonna get some free publicity.

PV: Sorry, it ain't happening.

S: I'm gonna take off then.

PV: Be safe.

See! Man, did that take restraint. Check back next week to see what craziness I've come up with. Tell your friends to come, too. But not your friends' friends, because that would be inappropriate. I'm going to sleep now, blissfully floating in the essence of the Arizona Cardinals' 3-2 record, good for first place in the NFC West. Man, will it be depressing to come back and read this post in December if the Cardinals are 6-10 at that point. But for now I'll just enjoy it.

Interview: Heathcliff

PV: It's an honor, Heathcliff.

H: The pleasure's all mine.

PV: Thank you for taking the time to do this, but can you do me a favor?

H: Sure, anything.

PV: Be a doll and stay off the couch. Animals aren't allowed there. Allergies.

H: Sure thing, boss. Would you do me a favor and go sodomize yourself?

PV: I don't know how to respond. For one, I'm offended by the notion, and on the other hand I'm not sure that's physically possible.

H: It's a figure of speech, Phil. I was offended that you treated me with the indignity of a common housecat.

PV: You took it the wrong way. I'm just really, really allergic. Like, when cat hair is everywhere, my nose stuffs up and I sneeze constantly and I can't even sleep. It was really just a self-preservation thing. Seriously, I'd never want to condescend to someone as famous and powerful as you, Garfield.

H: What the hell did you just call me?

PV: Garf.... Oh, crap. I mixed up my cartoon cats. I'm always confusing you people.

H: You people?

PV: Uh, you felines. Sorry.

H: That's messed up, dude. I don't think I can forgive you that.

PV: C'mon, man. You can't blame me for an innocent slip of the tongue. After all, Garfield is a little more famous.

H: No way, dude. My comic is totally more popular.

PV: That assertion is dubious at best, but whatever you want to believe. At least Garfield has movies, though.

H: If you can call that dreck "movies." I'd rather toil in anonymity than let Hollywood adapt my life story as a Jennifer Love Hewitt romantic comedy.

PV: Hey, don't knock J-Love. She's the bomb in "Ghost Whisperer." Seen it?

H: Nah, but I hear good things. I'm a cat who prefers TV to movies any day of the week. For instance, my landmark Nickelodeon sitcom.

PV: Oh yeah, I remember that. I used to watch it when the Garfield cartoon was on reruns.

H: OK, stop with all the Garfield references or I will rip your throat out. You wanna see why I have the reputation as being the bad boy of cat-toons? Garfield ain't nothing but a crabby fat boy, always complaining and sleeping. I be from the streets. I live in junkyards and kick ass.

PV: Get real, Gar... I mean Heathcliff. I've read your unauthorized biography. You had a stunt double do all the dangerous stuff.

H: I'm gonna kill Dotson Rader.

PV: Don't talk bad about Parade Magazine's Dotson Rader. He's the man.

H: You're right. Dotson is hardcore.

Interview: Link

PV: Thanks for meeting me. Man, I can't believe I'm actually sitting here with Link, the pointy-eared hero, guardian of the Triforce and romancer of Princess Zelda. You're a great American.

L: You're a great American.

PV: Whoah. Dude.

L: Whassup, bra?

PV: I didn't know you could talk. In all your games you're solemn and silent. The most you've ever said is "..."

L: No, I'm not quiet in all my games. Just the good ones; you know, the ones made by Nintendo. I talked up a storm in my adventures on the 3DO system. And don't you remember the animated miniseries in which I starred?

PV: Oh yeah! It played during "The Super Mario Bros. Super Show." Your catch phrase was...

L: Excuuuuuse me!

PV: That was so awesome. I have the series on DVD.

L: Would you like me to autograph it for you?

PV: No thanks. It'd be a waste because it's stacked on a shelf and no one would be able to tell it's autographed.

L: Screw you, man. Here I am, a big celebrity trying to do something nice for a plebian fan, and you blow me off like that? You're lucky I don't pull out my ocarina and play a magical song that will cast a curse upon you.

PV: Please. You don't know any Ocarina songs capable of that. The worse you could do is go back in time or make it rain for a few seconds.

L: Oh yeah? Oh YEAH? Well I've got a sword. I could slash you to bits.

PV: No, Link, you do not have a sword. You always lose them for some reason after you finish saving the princess, and are stuck swordless at the beginning of your next quest, needing to either find a new one from an old guy in a cave or complete a number of irritating fetch quests in order to barter for a blade from the town blacksmith.

L: You're forgetting that sometimes I find one in a forgotten treasure chest in my home.

PV: Be that as it may, the point is you've got no weapons and thus pose no threat to me. You just can't keep a sword. Maybe that's why Zelda keeps getting "captured" by Gannon. You lack a long, hard thing that could give her pleasure.

L: You are!

PV: What?

L: I don't know. At least I'm a famous video game star! You're nothing but a loser.

PV: At least I've had sex.

L: Your mother!

PV: What? Link, you're such a spaz. Whatever dude. Now I can see why Nintendo doesn't let you talk. You're incapable of saying anything worthwhile.

Interview: Punky Brewster

PV: Hi, Punky. You don't seem anything like I expected you to be.

PB: What do you mean?

PV: Well, when your show was big back in the mid 1980s, we were the same age, so I expected you to be in your late 20s or early 30s now. But you're so small and, how shall I put this...

PB: Animated?

PV: Yeah, animated. You look like a cartoon.

PB: That's because I am a cartoon, silly! I'm the Punky from the spinoff cartoon show.

PV: There was a cartoon of "Punky Brewster?"

PB: Of course! My friends Cherie, Alan and Margaux were there, and so was my Yoda-knockoff buddy from the rainbow dimension, Glomer!

PV: Oh, it's all coming back to me now. How could I forget such a pandering product of 80s cheeseballosity like Glomer?

PB: There ya go. Punky Power!

PV: I hate to break it to you, Punky, but the cartoon was awful. Probably the reason I had forgotten about it is I'd blocked it from my memory. Too traumatic to recall.

PB: You've got a bad attitude, mister. Sounds like you need to spend a day with me. I have a way of lifting people's spirits right off the ground every time they turn around.

PV: I guess you're right. You even managed to cheer up your foster parent, cranky ol' Henry Warnimont.

PB: You betcha!

PV: But it wouldn't last. Each episode you'd teach Henry some sort of lesson and get him all cheered up, seeing the brighter side of life and all that good stuff. But then a week would pass and he'd be all pissed off and hating life once again, and you'd just have to repeat the process.

PB: That's because Henry was chronically depressed, silly goose! He was on suicide watch during shooting. If not for me, he would have blown his pathetic brains out years ago!

PV: Now, now, Punky. That's not very nice to say.

PB: But it's the truth, and as Ahmad Rashad taught me, it's always best to tell the truth!

PV: I thought his character taught you that it's always right to avoid stealing ties as Christmas present and then framing your teachers for the theft?

PB: That too. Ahmad taught me many things.

PV: Yeah, me as well. He co-hosted "NBA Inside Stuff" and diagrammed Magic Johnson's fast break. Didn't you just love that show?

PB: Well, since I was a cartoon, I didn't watch much sports on TV, so I'll just have to take your word for it.

PV: You do that.

Interview: Rainbow Brite

PV: Talk to me, Miss Brite.

RB: I'd rather not. I'm feeling sort of gloomy. And drop the Miss Brite stuff. Call me Rainbow.

PV: Gloomy? Really? But you're known as the happiest person in the world! Always so positive and upbeat. You wear nothing but colorful clothing and always offer words of encouragement to friends even under the toughest of circumstances! You work for Hallmark, for gosh sakes!!!

RB: You know, this had to come out at some point. It's all overcompensation. The true Rainbow Brite is miserable, and uses her sunny disposition to mask the swirling torrent of despair she calls her life. The real Rainbow Brite cries herself to sleep every night and struggles every day to get out of bed and face another day of her miserable, regret-panged existence.

PV: Huh. I never woulda thought that.

RB: That Rainbow Brite wasn't a happy person?

PV: No, I always suspected as much. It's just shocking that you're one of those people who refers to themselves in the third person. What are you, Terrell Owens?

RB: Sorry, force of habit. I can easily shift back to first person if it makes you more comfortable.

PV: Thanks, I appreciate that. I'm surprising how accommodating you are, Rainbow.

RB: My entire life is accommodation. My self esteem is so low that I do everything I can to please others. I can't make my own decisions, and I despise myself for it. I'm nothing more than a sellout shill; a dopey face of forced cheer meant to inspire hordes of impressionable young girls.

PV: Oh, Rainbow. That's not true.

RB: It's not? You don't know how much it means to me to hear that from someone. Are you telling me that I'm wrong to be so despondent, and that there's some truth to the soulless work I've submitted to?

PV: Nah, all I meant was you don't have an impact on young girls. Your show was canceled in 1985, so few people have ever heard of you and even fewer remember you.

RB: Oh. Excuse me. I need to go now.

PV: Why?

RB: I'm going to go huff paint now. It's the only thing that makes me feel good.

PV: Have fun with that.

Interview: The Leprechaun

PV: Please don't kill me. I don't have your gold - I swear.

L: Your claim is a lie, timid little guy. Kill you I shall. We'll have a ball!

PV: Dude, that poetry was awful. Your syllable count is off and you tried to rhyme "shall" with "ball."

L: Criticize you may, my little friend Jay. But rhyme nor reason will prevent the ending of your season?

PV: Ugh. That was even worse than your last one. What the hell is wrong with you, Lep? Have seven horror films sapped your ability to put a couple threatening limerick versus together?

L: It's tough, man. Someone stole me gold, and I miss it. Ye ever hear that old line "Your treasure is where your heart is?" Well, me treasure is me gold. And thus my heart.

PV: I feel for you. But don't get all depressed on me. Remember back in Leprechaun 5: In Space, when you were blown up into a giant version of yourself and apparently killed?

L: Yeah, I totally remember that. What's your point?

PV: You totally came back in the next film, Leprechaun in the Hood, without any problem whatsoever! And when you were killed in that, you were back once again for Leprechaun: Back 2 the Hood! My point is, you're one resilient mofo.

L: I have me days. But now I'm sad and lonely because they're no longer be making me direct-to-DVD sequels.

PV: Well, that's OK. You can always sell your cereal!

L: Um. That be not me. That's another leprechaun, a frilly nancy by the name of O'Doyle. There's been a row 'tween our families for eons.

PV: Oh, sorry. You people all sort of look alike to me.

L: That be a racist comment. Makes me want to vomit.

PV: Oh haaail no. You rhymed "comment" and "vomit!" You disappoint me, Leprechaun. Your silly rhymes are usually my favorite parts of your idiotic flicks. I expect more from the man who once said "Drink if you like, drink if you're able. When you drink with the Leprechaun, you'll be under the table."

L: Aye, 'twas me better days. The 1990s. All was possible. The entire world was in front of me. Now look at me.

P: 'Twas me better days too, my brotha.

Interview: Strawberry Shortcake

PV: Whoah, is that you under there, Strawberry?

SS: (Puts down trough of chili fries). Yeah. Sorry I was late. I hade, uh, errands.

PV: You mean like eating? It sure looks like you've put on some weight.

SS: Hey, shut up. I've always been a big-boned girl with curves.

PV: It's only fat people who talk about big bones and curves. Those are just cop-outs. Besides, I seem to remember you being rather thin.

SS: By always I meant the past five years, when I stopped playing into society's vision of what a woman should look like. After years of playing the game, I just decided that I don't need to please everyone all the time. Now everything I do is geared to bring joy into the life of the one person who matters most.

PV: The CEO of Little Debbie?

SS: No, dummy. Me. Scoff all you want, I'm going to eat until my big, joyful heart is content.

PV: Don't get me wrong, Strawberry Shortcake. I'm not trying to bash you. I see how it would be very tough to avoid succumbing to obesity when you come from such a food-centric background. Take a look at the sort of people you hang out with. Your friends don't exactly make it easy for a girl to keep a trim figure.

SS: (Sniff). What are you talking about? I have nobody.

PV: Are you kidding me? You have so many friends! I remember back from when, uh, my sisters watched your show. Yeah, it totally was my sisters who watched and not me. There was Blueberry Muffin and her pet Cheesecake the Mouse, Lemon Meringue, Huckleberry Pie and Butter Cookie. You all banded together to contend with the evil The Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak and his cleverly named sidekicks Sour Grapes and Raisin Cane.

SS: I ate them all. I'm such a monster.

PV: That is pretty gross. I think that makes you a cannibal. Did they taste good at least?

SS: Divine. It was like the buffet at the Mirage. No, the Aladdin. Only I didn't have to pay.

PV: And let me guess, because of the ensuing guilt and loneliness that came from devouring all the other characters, you plunged into a spiral of compulsive eating! You eat because you're unhappy...

SS: (Sighs). And I'm unhappy because I eat. Thanks for that.

PV: Not at all. I'm just looking out for your health.

SS: Only shallow louts like you say you're looking out for the "health" of others when you chastise them for their weight. It's just a cop-out.

PV: That hurt, Strawberry, but I admit I deserved it. Let's you and I make a deal, OK? You try to watch your weight, and I'll make an effort to stop judging people based solely on their appearance.

SS: Deal. (Rips open a carton of bonbons and stuffs them into her face five at a time).

PV: Dude! You're totally breaking our deal!

SS: And you're breaking your end of it by being disgusted of how fat and piggish I am.

PV: You always were a wise one, Strawberry Shortcake.

Interview: Vicki the Robot

PV: "Small Wonder" was one of my favorite shows growing up. That and the one whose name I can't remember, about the little girl who stopped time by putting her fingers together.

VTR: Indeed, Phil. Your compliment activated the synthetic neurotrons programmed to scan for adulation. I must add that my memory receptors also do not record the name of the show about the girl who stopped time.

PV: That surprises me that you've lost your memory, Vicki, being a robot and all.

VTR: I blame it on Windows Vista. It screws with everything.

PV: Ain't that the truth. Oh, I just remembered the name of the show! "Out of This World."

VTR: Thank you. Allow me to write the information to my hard disk. OK. Proceed with the questioning.

PV: Why are you talking so... robotic? In "Small Wonder," you seemed to become less androidlike and more human as you went. Have you regressed?

VTR: Again, the culprit is Windows Vista.

PV: I see. Windows Vista is indeed crappy. But come on, Vicki, take some personal responsibility!

VTR: Silence, human, or I will grab you by the throat and lift you off the ground until you repent.

PV: You mean like you did to that schoolyard drug dealer on that one episode? I'd be honored. That was pretty hot.

VTR: Your adjective "hot" does not compute.

PV: I meant it was attractive. I have to say, other than Punky Brewster's friend Margaux, you were the TV girl I wanted to nail the most of all back when I was 8.

VTR: Thank you.

PV: You're welcome. My research has indicated I wasn't alone in my crush. There was a mid-1980s phenomenon in which you appeared in viewers' dreams. There was even a book written about your character!

VTR: This information activates my creepotron indicators, given that 8-year-olds do not write books, so logically the author must have been well into maturation and still fixated on a young girl playing a humanoid robot.

PV: Yeah, it is pretty disgusting. Say, Vicki, since you're a robot, are you like, impossible to beat at chess and tic-tac-toe?

VTR: Defeat is not in my memory bank.

PV: Well, neither was "Out of This World."

VTR: Yes it was. I was only simulating an ignorance level similar to your own in order to make you feel more comfortable. The directive came from a program installed in me meant to build a rapport during interviews.

PV: Vicki the Robot, you so crazy.

Interview: Sonny the Cuckoo Bird

PV: Sonny, what is it exactly that makes you cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?

S: I'm glad you asked me, Phil, and let me say that is a great question that I don't get very often. The draw for me has always been the unique blend of chocolate flavoring coating the spheres of delightful crunch that make up the infrastructure of the cereal I've been so cuckoo to represent for nearly half a century.

PV: I thought you were gonna say the chocolate milk that's left over once you're done eating the puffs.

S: Ah, but the chocolate aftermilk, while tasty enough to make me go cuckoo, is only an added bonus. Far from the prime mover, I'm sure you'd agree.

PV: Whatever. So what makes Cocoa Puffs any better than, say, Coco-Roos?

S: I resent the comparison. Cocoa Puffs are worth going cuckoo for. Would you go cuckoo just to save a few cents on a Malt-o-meal knockoff of an inferior product? I think not.

PV: But it's pretty much the same cereal, right?

S: You're cuckoo for even suggesting such an oversimplified misrepresentation of the greatest cereal ever known to man! Take it back or I will end this interview immediately.

PV: OK, I'm sorry.

S: Apology accepted.

PV: I'm not really sorry. I just said that so you wouldn't walk out on the interview.

S: Since I see you're too cuckoo to grasp this concept on your own, let me spell it out to you. Cocoa Puffs are the original. The Babe Ruth of chocolate crunchball cereals, if you will. Coco Roos, on the other hand, are little more than cocky, Johnny-come-lately imitators. More like Barry Bonds.

PV: But Barry Bonds is better than Babe Ruth. He's hit tons more home runs.

S: Yes, but Barry Bonds uses steroids! And don't try to tell me that he's clean just because he's never tested positive. Such tests can be easily manipulated.

PV: Yeah, but everybody else in baseball uses steroids also, so it's a level playing field. And besides, Babe Ruth didn't have to face nearly as difficult competition as Bonds because black people weren't allowed to play back in the day.

S: Damn, I've never thought of it that way. I'm feeling a little bit cuckoo. Maybe I should rethink other truths I've long held to be self evident.

PV: Maybe that all chocolate cereals are created equal?

S: Perhaps, Phil. Perhaps.

Interview: Sonic the Hedgehog

PV: Hey there, Sonic.

S: What's the haps, yo? You down?

PV: Sonic, you don't have to try to be hip or edgy. Just talk normally please.

S: Sorry, force of habit. When you're the face of an organization you've got a lot of pressure on you to relate to the kids of today.

PV: True, but Sega's last console was the Dreamcast in 2000, so the pressure must be sort of lessened, yes?

S: Well, um, yeah. But I'm still the face of Sega, and Sega still makes games. Lots of 'em. Lots of Sonic games.

PV: Lots of horrid Sonic games.

S: You're maybe confusing me with my evil doppeldanger, Shadow. There are plenty of bad Shadow games, but no bad Sonic games.

PV: Let's see here: Sonic and the Secret Rings, Sonic Rush, Sonic Spinball, Sonic Chaos...

S: OK, OK, I get the point. Even superstars like me slip up every now and then. I've had a lot of great games, too.

PV: Like what?

S: OK, OK, all my games suck. I'll admit it. But they sell well.

PV: True enough.

S: And I move really, really fast.

PV: That's the thing. You really don't move so fast.

S: I'm the fastest video game character ever created.

PV: Granted, you are capable of moving at high speeds, but it's rare that your games let you reach your full potential. Most of the time you're just hopping around like an idiot.

S: That's only because that's how you choose to control me.

PV: Well if I make you run fast, you'll die.

S: How is that my problem? I said I was fast, not sturdy.

PV: True, true, to borrow a phrase from my idol, Merry Miller. So Sonic, what is it exactly that makes you so fast?

S: That's easy - blast processing.

PV: Oh, come on, Sonic. The phrase "Blast processing" is just a meaningless gimmick dreamed up by the Sega marketing department in the mid 1990s to tout the Genesis. What's the real reason?

S: I don't think I should say.

PV: Is it, by chance, anabolic steroids?

S (breaking down into tears): It wasn't me who decided to dope up! I was always clean, I swear it to you. It was my coach and my training partner Ben.

PV: Hold up - you mean to tell me that you trained with 1988 Canadian 100 meter sprint gold medalist Ben Johnson?

S: I could beat him 9 times out of 10, too. Too bad the world of 1988 was too racist to allow computer animated hedgehogs into international competition.

PV: Too bad, man. I bet you woulda smoked Johnson for the gold.

S: You know I would have.

PV: But you would have had your medal taken away once the blood test came in.

S: True, true.

Interview: Joe Camel

PV: I can't quite put my finger on it, Joe, but there's something compelling about you.

JC: It must be that I'm a cartoon meant to appeal to the immature and easily suggestion-prone!

PV: You know, that's it! Boy, do I wish I were smoking that special blend of Turkish and Virginia tobacco.

JC: You know what they say: To err is human. To smoke Camel cigarettes, divine.

PV: Who says that?

JC: The Camel P.R. people.

PV: And I can dig it.

JC: You know, people give me a bad rap for trying to get kids to buy my product, but what the hell? We all gotta die someday, right?

PV: Yeah, and old age is overrated anyway. Who wants to live to be 80 if you're some uncool stick in the mud who never got to light up? And you have to worry about having enough money for retirement and all. Yuk. Throat cancer totally does you a favor.

JC: And what a pathetic life it is, that of a nonsmoker. I can't imagine what it must be like to go all your years without the smooth, full taste of filtered Camel enjoyment.

PV: I heard that.

JC: The media lefties also get on us for exploiting China. What's the problem with that? There are too many people in China anyway.

PV: Yeah, their government even admits as much, with that law forcing people to have no more than one kid.

JC: Tobacco manufacturers deserve credit from the Chinese government for doing what they can to help keep the population down.

PV: And now they're passing all these laws. First they banned smoking in airplanes, but now they're not even letting people light up in restaurants and bars. They won't even let you advertise on TV or in kiddie magazines!

JC: I see it as a violation of our constitutional rights. But rest assured, our lobbyists are constantly lining the pockets of legislators insuring that harsher measures aren't passed. We wouldn't want anything crazy to happen, like outlawing cigarette vending machines or setting up harsh penalties for kids who use fake IDs to buy our product.

PV: Joe, I have to tell you, I've never smoked, I hate smoking and I think what you do is despicable. I was only pretending to be a fan in order to get you to reveal incriminating information about the way you and your entire industry operate.

JC: Uh, I, uh don't know what to say.

PV: Aw, how can I stay mad at you? You're nothing more than a cute, lovable camel! I apologize.

JC: Apology accepted. Now let's go out and smoke a pack together. It's never too late to start!

Interview: Kid Icarus

PV: So what's your real name, anyway? Pit or Kid Icarus.

KI: My birth certificate says Pit, but my game was called Kid Icarus and my friends call me Flyboy. Call me Kid Icarus.

PV: Does that mean we're not friends?

KI: I don't have any friends anymore. It's funny. You start out successful and everyone flocks around you, but if your game doesn't get any sequels they all forget about you. That's just how our celebrity-obsessed culture is.

PV: Sounds kind of sad. So what have you been doing with your time?

KI: I've been keeping busy. My agent got me a co-starring gig in "Captain N: The Game Master," and I've nabbed a few cameos here and there.

PV: Right, like in old-school "Tetris" when you pop out on the ledge at the end of the level and play an instrument.

KI: Yeah, that and I'm also in "Super Smash Bros. Brawl" for the Wii. That kind of thing gives me some extra scratch. Not that I really need the money. I have the ability to fly, so I can steal a lot of shit easily whenever I need it.

PV: Say it ain't so, Kid Icarus! You've turned to a life of crime?

KI: Hey, I do what I gotta do. Don't try and get all sanctimonious on me. You've stolen things too. Remember Napster?

PV: Uh, that wasn't me. It was my roommate.

KI: Sure it was. You'd better hope that holds up in court when Metallica finally gets around to suing your ass.

PV: But I was innocent! Everyone was doing it! It was before iTunes!

KI: I'm not trying to make any moral judgments on you. I'm just getting you to see things my way. You stole music because you had easy access. My wings give me the same thing. If you had them you'd be just as much of a criminal as I am.

PV: No I wouldn't! I'd use my powers for good. I'd hop from platform to platform and shoot arrows at Medusa's heads.

KI: Trust me, Phil. I've seen you play - or at least try to play my game. You'd die 25 times on the first level and then give up for 20 years.

PV: Hey, ct me a break. I was a little kid. I downloaded your game on the Wii and I did much better.

KI: No you didn't. You died three times and then gave up again.

PV: But I got farther... Hey! How would you know about any of that anyway?

KI: Duh. I'm the guy in the game. I know everything.

PV: No, you're just a vain stalker. You fly into peoples' houses to watch them play your game, don't you?

KI: That too.

Interview: Little Mac

PV: Little Mac, I've got to say you were a hero of mine growing up. You made 8-year-olds everywhere feel like they could knock out Mike Tyson with a series of leaping counter-punches.

LM: It was a great win at the time, but...

PV: Yeah, Nowadays pretty much anybody can and does kick Mike Tyson's ass. To be honest, I think it was you who first cracked his sheen of invulnerability. Once people saw take him down, it gave everyone else hope and it sort of had Mike doubting himself. You cleared the way for Buster Douglas. Pretty soon after Tyson was in jail and you were tangling with his half-hearted replacement, Mr. Dream.

LM: I did what I could. Tyson liked to talk a lot of shit, but I put him in his place. I had a good run there for a while. To be honest with you it was all my fans. I was pretty much an inanimate collection of pixels and 8-bit processor code. It was finger speed and timing that turned me into a champion.

PV: Not to mention those training runs Doc Louis used to take you on.

LM: Yeah, Doc worked me hard. He'd roll up to my apartment in the middle of the night with that bike of his, and I'd be all groggy, throwing the first sweatshirt I could find so I could go out and follow him on runs.

PV: So that explains why you wore a pink sweatshirt.

LM: Yeah, I wouldn't even turn on the lights so I just grabbed any old thing.

PV: But tell me this, Little Mac. Why was it that you had a pink hoodie in the first place?

LM: It, uh... used to be red but faded because I sweated through it and it bled out the color.

PV: I see. I have some red shirts that I run in and that didn't happen with them.

LM: Right. Yours were probably made in the last 10 years. Back in the 80s the dyes weren't as strong. Really, I would never buy pink clothing. I'm totally masculine, dude.

PV: Well, not totally.

LM: What? Don't tell me you're about to rag on me about wearing a tanktop in the ring. Doc made me wear that so I'd have extra protection. Do you remember how big those guys were?

PV: They were pretty damn big. But you have to admit, a lot of your wins came against mediocre competition, to put it kindly. I mean Glass Joe? He only had one win in 100 fights, and that was due to a disqualification. Von Kaiser must be German for "tomato can." And who can forget that ludicrous bout with Don Flamenco in which he threw one punch and then sat there with his mouth open when you unleashed a series of 50 left-right combos to floor him within 38 seconds.

LM: Hey, I fought whoever they threw in front of me. I didn't negotiate the contracts. You gotta admit I survived a few wars. Soda Popinski? Super Macho Man? They were animals.

PV: I still have nightmares about Super Macho Man's jiggling breasts of victory.

LM: And Bald Bull and his bull charge. What power and intimidation.

PV: Especially in the second bout, when he wouldn't go down unless you threw an uppercut or slugged him in the stomach during the charge.

LM: And Great Tiger, when he used that magic to float around the ring in circles.

PV: Come on, Little Mac. That wasn't so tough. All you had to do was just block a few times, then he'd stand there stunned, having some sort of eye seizure until you smacked him in the turban.

LM: So tell me about your career nowadays? What's next for Little Mac?

LM: Well, I've done pretty well for myself. I've got a comeback match lined up with Evander Holyfield - the winner of that gets to fight Tonmmy Morrison at the Tennessee state fair.

PV: Really, at your age? You oughta be careful.

LM: Hey, I'm only 39. Rocky Balboa is in his 60s and he's still throwing hurtin' bombs.

PV: "Rocky Balboa" was just a movie, Little Mac. Video games are real life.

LM: Don't count me out, man. Actually, do count me out, because I relish the role as an underdog.

PV: I think you're just unnecessarily risking your health in a desperate grab for your former glory.

LM: I'm doing OK. I'm still big in the gaming world.

PV: Oh yeah? I thought you'd retired from that scene. I saw you didn't even make the cut in the sequel, "Super Punch Out" back in '94.

LM: Um, yeah... That was because of my agent. But I am the star of Wii Sports boxing.

PV: I hate to break this to you, bro, but you're not in every copy of that game. Just in mine, because I made a Mii that crudely looks like you and named it "Little Mac."

LM: Hmm. But I still get royalties, right?

PV: Sure, I'll give you ten bucks.

LM: Thank you. Boy do I need the money.

Interview: Oscar the Grouch

PV: So, Oscar, why are you so grouchy?

OTG: Are you freaking kidding me? That's the dumbest question I ever heard. Why do you think? For one, PBS doesn't pay me, so I'm forced to live in this damn garbage can. I'm surrounded by morons who are happy for no reason, and I've always got a camera in my face. How happy would you be in my situation?

PV: Sorry, man. I didn't mean anything by it. Just trying to make conversation.

OTG: Hey, I'm sorry. It's just that life sucks and tend to lash out at those around me.

PV: Sounds counterproductive.

OTG: You're telling me. It's just a neverending spiral of depression, and probably why my wife left me.

PV: Divorced, huh? I never realized you were married. Who was the lucky bride?

OTG: Liz Taylor.

PV: Good job, man. She had it going on back in the day.

OTG: This was last year.

PV: Ouch.

OTG: Yeah, I know. We were drunk and in Vegas. One thing kinda led to another, and now I'm stuck with a monthly alimony payment.

PV: You're paying Liz Taylor alimony? How does that work? She's gotta be far more wealthy than you, right?

OTG: What can I say, she's got some killer lawyers and I defended myself in divorce court because I didn't trust anyone else to do the work for me.

PV: Sounds like you would have been better off with Elmo as your lawyer.

OTG: Ha ha. Very funny. I hate that prick. He's the one Liz left me for.

PV: I had no idea Liz Taylor was so into Sesame Street. Bizarre.

OTG: What are you trying to say? Is there something wrong with marrying a muppet? You humans and your superiority complexes.

PV: It's not that I think we're better. It's just that I'd never heard of puppets getting married to former movie stars before.

OTG: Sure, backpedal it up, you racist bastard. I oughta get Al Sharpton on your ass.

PV: Please don't. He'll probably get me fired from my job, and I need the paycheck.

OTG: You're breaking my heart. Tell you what. Find me a half-eaten pizza or a loaf of moldy bread and we'll call it even. I'm hungry.

PV: No deal, Oscar. That's extortion.

OTG: Well how about I jump out of this can and kick your ass then?

PV: Oscar, you and I both know you never leave that can.

OTG: Ya got me.

Interview: Mega Man

PV: Hi, Mega Man.

MM: Mega hi!

PV: Aw, crap. Don't tell me you actually talk the way you were portrayed in the animated series "Captain N: The Game Master. That's so obnoxious.

MM: Mega talk what mega way?

PV: You know, adding "mega" to the beginning of everything you say. We're only three questions into our discussion and I already want it to be over.

MM: Mega...

PV: Just say what you want to say! No wonder none of your video games ever let you talk. You're a moron! Is it too much to ask that a cannon-armed robot be able to communicate effectively?

MM: It's just that...

PV: Hey! Very good. You didn't start that sentence with "mega." Now, Mega Man, what is it you're trying to tell me?

MM: Mega...

PV: There's that word again! Dammit, Mega Man, I thought we were making progress!

MM: Mega...

PV: Mega? Is that a country? Do they speak English in Mega?

MM: Dude, you're totally copying Samuel L. Jackson in "Pulp Fiction" there. Get some new material.

PV: Why yes - yes I was. I'm so proud of you! You got through a full answer without using that word!

MM: That's because you finally shut your damn mouth long enough to allow me to actually get a word in. I don't have some speech impediment that makes me start phrases with "mega." That idiotic cartoon version of me on "Captain N" is totally Hollywood - just a simplistic creation to pander to dolts like you.

PV: But what about earlier when you kept starting your sentences with "mega"?

MM: The first time I was just putting on an act. I thought that's what you'd want, like how everyone harasses Gary Coleman into saying "Whatchu talking 'bout, Willis?" whenever they meet him. The second time I was just screwing with you.

PV: But what about the times after that?

MM: I wasn't even trying to say "mega' - you just stopped me too soon. The first time I was talking about my android wife, Megan, and another time I was about to make an observation about that megaphone over there in the corner of the interview room.

PV: Wow. I'm so, so sorry. You must think I'm as big of an asshole as Dr. Wiley right about now. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

MM: Sure, whatever. You're forgiven. I've got to cut this short though. Dr. Wiley took over eight robot planets again and set a single-weaponed android boss on each one to protect it. I've gotta run, go co defeat all the androids, assimilate their attacks into my arm cannon and then threaten to kill Dr. Wiley until he begs for mercy and I let him go again.

PV: Maybe you should just kill him this time, you know? It's been like 20 games now where you've done the same routine over and over. You could move on to other things.

MM: Maybe you should shut the hell up.

Interview: Yoshi

PV: Dude, I'm so honored to be talking to you right now. It's actually you, Yoshi! The dinosaur who lets Mario ride him like a pony! You're a hero, man!

Y: I'm not gonna lie. My body of work is pretty incredible and I can see why you're so overwhelmed. Super Mario World, Yoshi's Island 1 and 2, and my kick-ass career on Mario Kart can be pretty intimidating.

PV: Tell me, Yoshi, what is is that angers you the most?

Y: I hate it when people yell out the word "Yo!" when they're calling out to someone on the street, because I always think they're addressing me, then I walk up to them and they're looking at someone behind me.

PV: Yeah, that would suck. But I bet you get a lot of people mobbing you on the street because of your status. You must be living the great life.

Y: To me it's just a day job. My life is actually just like yours.

PV: Really?

Y: Yeah, except I have more money than your entire family combined and I get to have sex with whoever I want to, whenever I want to, however I want to.

PV: You just put some disgusting thoughts into my head.

Y: I'm sure you're just jealous, which is understandable. I mean, I'm Yoshi, and you're just a reporter. I'm sick of you media types always hounding me for interviews, and then when I sit down with you you're so negative. It's like everyone wants a piece of me. I don't have the time to be dealing with crap like this.

PV: Actually, Yoshi, this is the first interview you've ever given. And I was sort of sandbagging at the beginning there, because I know you're one of the less popular characters in the Super Mario universe and I was just trying to make you feel better about yourself - you know, butter you up a bit to build a rapport.

Y: You mean you're not in awe of my presence?

PV: Not at all. You're like the fourth most famous person I'm talking to this week. This interview means nothing to me.

Y: (Sniffs). That's sort of mean. (Sniffs).

PV: I'm just joshing you, Yoshi. It's just that my friend bet me $5 I couldn't make you cry, so now that I've won and I've got it on tape we can just move on.

Y: That's just cruel. You play with a video game dinosaur's emotions for $5? What's wrong with you?

PV: What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You have all these great abilities and you just waste them. Depending on which eggs you eat, you can fly or spit fire at enemies, and you never use them on your own projects. You're just Mario's stooge. Where's the self respect, man?

Y: What are you talking about? I have my own series of games!

PV: Yeah, but even in those you're still doing Mario's bitchwork, chauffeuring baby Mario and baby Luigi around wherever they want to go.

Y: Well, it's just that I'm loyal to those guys because, uh, I really like them.

PV: Be honest with me, Yoshi. It's blackmail, isn't it?

Y: They have nude pictures of me when I was younger, trying to make my career as a model.

PV: You can't stand for that kind of treatment, Yoshi!

Y: Hey, walk a mile in my shoes. I've got a reputation to maintain.

PV: I guess.

Interview: Jeff the Mannequin

PV: Ah, Jeff the Mannequin from the beloved Nickelodeon show "Today's Special." Pleased to make your acquaintance.

J: The pleasure is all mine. My only request is that you ask your questions quickly, because we don't have much time.

PV: No?

J: As you know if you're familiar with the TV program, my magic hat only allows me come to life when the store is closed. We're opening up again in a few minutes.

PV: That's a heck of a lot of exposition, Jeff. I know all about your hat, how it was given to you by the magician Waldo the Magnificent and how wearing it lets you go off on adventures with the store designer, Jodie.

J: Of course, Phil. I was only giving your readers some background.

PV: What readers?

J: Surely you have readers, do you not?

PV: Not really. I used to have a few, but I guess they sort of got bored with this fake interview concept.

J: Why that's too bad. Would you like Jodie and I to teach you a lesson in how to reach out to new friends?

PV: I'll pass. No offense, but your show wasn't so good at teaching lessons, and that's probably why it got canceled after just a few years.

J: We lasted six years and made international syndication. Not bad for a low-budget Canadian show.

PV: Right, but still, you were no Sesame Street. Most of the things you taught me were completely irrelevant or altogether false.

J: I'm sorry to hear that. Would you kindly elaborate?

PV: Well, like talking mice who interact with robots to fix the store's P.A. system, and the sound boxes that would open up and music would sprout out. Those don't really exist. Also, your show made it look like it was possible for a lonely person to engage in a fulfilling relationship with a mannequin. And let me tell you, from my personal experience with the pointy-nippled dress mannequins at Dillard's, it ain't as easy as you and Jodie made it look.

J: Speak for yourself. I never had any trouble getting those Dillard's mannequins to put out. They were complete whores. They must have found you even below their pathetically low standards.

PV: Be that as it may, I didn't really get much from your show. For me it was like "Darkwing Duck" or "Inspector Gadget" - something I watched more out of habit than enjoyment.

J: Oh really? Sounds like an apt descriptor for my nightly sexual rendezvous with your mother.

PV: Believe me, Jeff. You don't want to get into a yo momma thing with me. I'll lay waste to your inanimate ass.

J: I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. It's not me. It's the magic hat.

PV: Sure, blame the hat.

J: OK, it's only partially the hat. I'm also kind of a dick off camera. But let me ask you something - you caught the show on Nickelodeon, right?

PV: Right.

J: Well that explains why you may not have learned much. "Today's Special" was made for commercial-free public TV, and commercial network trimmed a few minutes off so they could squeeze in commercials.

PV: Huh, I never knew that. What kind of stuff did they cut out?

J: Quizzes, explanations of the show's morals, all sorts of great stuff. Believe me, if you had gotten to watch the whole thing, you would have been a much smarter young boy, and in turn a much wiser man.

PV: Be honest, Jeff. They really only trimmed the dopey musical numbers, didn't they?

J: Sorta.

Interview: Count Chocula

PV: Dude, you've got the best cereal ever made.

CC: I vant to suck your blood.

PV: Geez, man. That's a little too forward for my liking. Learn how to take a compliment.

CC: Sorry, I just thought I'd make it clear, the reason vy I agreed to this interview.

PV: Fair enough. You are, after all a vampire. But let me make one thing clear - there will be no blood sucking. I brought an oak dagger with me and I won't hesitate to drive it through that black little heart of yours if you so much as take a step toward me.

CC: I understand. It's just me and my hand tonight.

PV: A fan of Pink, are you?

CC: Yes, yes. Veddy much so. I go all the way back to her early stuff. I vonder if I have a shot vith her. Perhaps she ate my cereal growing up? You know I laced the cereal with a chemical that vas meant to make vair maidens vall hopelessly in love vith the Count.

PV: Don't think you have much of a shot, Choc. She's married. Besides, you wouldn't be good for her anyway. You'd probably just string her along for a while, suck her dry and send her into your harem of undead wenches.

CC: Vat can I say. The underground just don't stop for hos, yo.

PV: You like Tupac, too?

CC: Voo doesn't?

PV: I dunno. I just thought you'd be more into the Transylvanian music scene.

CC: I'm not vrom Transylvania, kid. I vas born and vaised in South Philly.

PV: Awesome. That's where Rocky is from. Did you ever run up the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art and raise your fists in glory?

CC: All the time. The truth is, I vas hoping to be a boxer ven I vas just a young batling. I succumbed to the vamily business in order to please my vatter.

PV: That surprises me. You always seemed so happy with your work. What great people to work with - Frankenberry and Boo Berry.

CC: Bah! Zey vere just vanna-bees. My chocolate goodness is so much better tasting.

PV: Yeah, it's pretty good. I liked to mix it with Frankenberry. The after-milk - you know, the stuff left over after I was done with the cereal, was the most delicious blend of strawberry and chocolate.

CC: How dare you dilute the purity of my product by mixing it with something so inferior? A curse on your and your family for a thousand generations!

PV: Curse on you and your family for a billion generations.

CC: Hey! Please, take it back?

PV: Only if you take back your curse on me.

CC: Fine, done.

PV: Done.

Interview: Mr. Rogers

PV: Whoah. I totally didn't expect you to show up today.

MR: Well, neighbor, old habits die hard. Just as I never missed appearing on my show in 35 years, I make it a point not to miss an interview appointment.

PV: I understand you're punctual, but you're dead, aren't you?

MR: I may have passed away due to stomach cancer in 2003, but I'll live forever on DVD. Wherever there are educational puppets, I'll be there. Wherever there are hobby trains that go through living rooms, you'll see me. Wherever there are cardigan sweaters, there my spirit shall be.

PV: So are you, like, a ghost? Can you go through walls and stuff? Or do you have some sort of problem I need to help you solve like the spirits in "The Sixth Sense?"

MR: The only problem I have are your probing questions. How about you let me read a book to you?

PV: A book? What am I, five? This isn't your show, Rogers. It's an interview. I'm here to get some hard answers from you.

MR: Shoot.

PV: Funny you should mention that word. Everyone says you served as a Navy SEAL as a sniper, laying waste to enemies with chilling precision. So how about it, are you handy with a sniper rifle?

MR: Violence is no way to solve problems, neighbor. People who disagree should watch a puppet show or share a book.

PV: That doesn't answer my question.

MR: No, I didn't serve in Vietnam. I'm a pacifist.

PV: Or are you just covering something up? If you really did do top-secret ops in the war I'm sure you wouldn't tell a schlub like me.

MR: I must admit, a sweater-wearing, slow-talking kiddie show host would have made a great cover for secret government assassin. I guess you'll just have to take me at my word. Honesty, you know, is the best policy.

PV: Don't take this the wrong way, but you always creeped me out.

MR: Did I? Or did you really love my show as a child and only started to see me as creepy once you were older and more cynical?

PV: Um, um...

MR: I think we both know the answer. The only creepiness you see in a wholesome, fatherly persona such as myself is that which you project onto me. Now apologize.

PV: I'm sorry I called you creepy, Mr. Rogers.

MR: Apology accepted.

PV: But, uh, you are kind of creepy. After all, you're a ghost!

MR: Am I a ghost, or a hologram? I'll never reveal my secrets.

PV: You are a shifty one, sir. Now I know for sure you didn't serve in Vietnam.

MR: Oh yes? Why is that?

PV: Because if you had, we would have won the war, because you're Mr. Rogers, and you're immortal and you're awesome.

MR: I can't argue with you there.

Interview: Big Bird

PV: Yo, Big, what's going down on the street?

BB: Same crap, different day. Oscar is complaining, Bert and Ernie are hanging out in the closet and Count Von Count is into his usual OCD routine. I need to get out of here, man. It's been decades with this same exact gig. My agent doesn't know what the hell he's doing.

PV: So you're ready to move on, huh? I always thought you'd be a Sesame Street lifer. You always looked like you were having such a good time.

BB: It's acting, baby. My craft. I'm into the whole method thing. Live it, breathe it, experience it and sell it to your audience. It's all a lie, my whole public image. I've been in and out of depression for 15 years now. My performance evaluations are always miserable, and the raises the tight-assed management gives out are comically small. We need to at least unionize or something.

PV: I'd vote Cookie Monster as your union treasurer.

BB: Yeah, right. I wouldn't trust that gluttonous fool around loose cash. You think cookies are the only things he can't stop consuming? You should see the guy when he goes off on benders of Scotch, hashish and prostitutes in Amsterdam. It's incredible that lifestyle of his hasn't driven him into the grave.

PV: Cookie Monster's a drug and whore addict? I'd never have known! Next thing you'll tell me is Snuffleupagus is a Scientologist!

BB: Snuff ain't real, bro. Ever wonder why I'm the only one who can see him? It's a total LSD flashback, I guess. The whole Haight-Ashbury scene during the psychadelic area really led me astray.

PV: Wow, I never figured you for an acid dropper.

BB: I did some wild stuff back in the day. You don't even wanna know. So many women.

PV: You slept with actual woman? Gross.

BB: No, I mean female birds, friend. Tons of 'em. Partridges, parakeets, storks, even an ostrich every once in a while.

PV: Ostriches, huh?

BB: Yeah, it's so hot when they stick their faces in the dirt, all bent over. Oh, man.

PV: You're disgusting.

BB: Nothing's disgusting about free love, man. We were gonna change the world. No war, no politics, and material things didn't mean a thing.

PV: And now look at you. You've completely sold out all your ideals. You're nothing but a corporate shill who complains he's not paid enough. Where did you go wrong?

BB: I don't know, man. Somewhere along the way I lost sight of all that I held dear, and now I'm just some letter jockey. Today's letter is F. For forlorn.

Interview: Alvin

PV: How's the chipmunk rock star treating you, Alvin?

A: I just got out of rehab and I'm trying to get my life back together. I'm thinking of getting back with the band for a reunion tour. Or maybe it's time for a solo project.

PV: Rehab? I never knew!

A: Yeah, all those years of touring really took their toll. I lost sight of what was really important, you know? The stress of the road forced me to turn to hookers and drugs, and it really sapped away my creativity.

PV: No offense, but all the songs you and the Chipmunks made were covers, weren't they? So having your creativity sapped away couldn't have hurt you that much.

A: I resent that remark. Do you know how much skill it takes to sing fast, high-pitched versions of classic rock songs? It's harder than it looks, man. I'd like to see you do it. You could never fill my shoes. You're nothing but a rock journalist sapping off my stardom so you can make your money scribbling stupid little rants in your monthly rag. And besides, we did come up with one song of our own - the intro to the TV show.

PV: First off, I'm not a rock journalist. But I think I remember the song you're talking about. The one that went "Alvin, Simon, Theodore! Doo-doo. Do-do-do-do!" Right? Sorry I overlooked that classic.

A: Apology not accepted due to your sarcasm.

PV: Let's just leave the subject behind and move on then. What was the situation with Dave, your manager? Was he your adoptive father?

A: Dave was an asshole. Ever see that TV miniseries "The Jacksons?" Our lives were exactly like that - Dave was Joe Jackson. First off he took us from our woodland home, then forced us to learn English. As if that wasn't weird and unnatural enough, he also made us form a cover band, and was obsessed with making us big stars. He worked us so hard. We'd do 11 hour practice sessions without a break. He wouldn't even let us pee or eat. Theodore was a big eater, you know, and he would show up to rehearsals with nuts buried in his cheeks. Dave would catch him in the act and pimp slap the nuts right out of his mouth. He was cruel, man. So cruel.

PV: At least you had the Chipettes to tour with, right? That had to have lifted the burden. I always thought it was amazing how there happened to be a female singing chipmunk trio, and they were exactly like you: Brittany, the smartass leader who was a female version of you; Jeanette, the awkward, lanky dork and Eleanor, the fat-assed malcontent who always screwed things up like Theodore.

A: Yeah, really lucky. The bitches wouldn't put out at all.

PV: That amazes me. Brittany always seemed slutty to me.

A: A total acorn tease, dude. I don't even wanna get into it.

PV: That's too bad, you guys could have had some incredibly talented children.

A: Brother, I don't even know how many children I have out there. There were so many groupies, so many orgies and one-night stands. And I'm sure I don't even remember the half of it. I never even wore a condom.

PV: Gross.

A: You're just jealous.

PV: I would have been jealous if you got to have sex with Brittany. I was totally into her when I was 5. But no, Alvin. I just pity you.

A: Get out of my house.

PV: I'm not in your house. We're talking on the phone.

A: Oh yeah. I just hallucinated that you were here because of an acid flashback.

Interview: Smokey the Bear

PV: Hey there, Smokey. How is the fire prevention going?

STB: It like, totally sucks bro. I was listening to Phish last night and smoking a bowl, tryin' to come to terms with the eternal parabolic dimensions of light and dark, smoke and fire. You know what I mean?

PV: I haven't the slightest clue. Hey, what's that smell, and why are your eyes bloodshot and glazed over? Why, Smokey, are you high?

STB: Guilty as charged, Maynard. Want some?

PV: Of course not! I've never smoked in my life and besides, I'm on the job! You should be ashamed of yourself. You're supposed to be a role model for children?

STB: You're totally talking like the man, always trying to keep a brotha down. Ain't nobody a role model. Parents should be role models, man. Check yoself. Before you reck yoself. Ahahahahaha!

PV: Get ahold of yourself, Smokey. I've got a tape recorder here. This will probably end up on the news and ruin your reputation like that time Alec Baldwin called his kid a "thoughtless little pig."

STB: Hey, whatever happens happens, ya know? How do you think I got the name "Smokey" in the first place, man? I was always weed crazy. I'd smoke anything man. Pinecones, whatever. The Forest Service shouldn't a never hired me if they needed a mascot who wasn't gonna stop tokin.' Hey, "tokin'" sounds like "token," right? Like what the change machines at Golf 'N Stuff give you instead of quarters. Trippy!

PV: Will you pull yourself together? Don't you realize who you are and what you represent?

STB: Hey, I've got no responsibility. Remember, only you can prevent forest fires. Hahahahaha.

PV: Ah, your catch phrase. How does that make any sense, by the way? How's a 12 year old going to prevent a forest fire?

STB: To be honest, by remembering to put out his joints before he falls asleep on camping trips. Man, I forgot to do that a couple years ago up on Mount Lemmon near Tucson. Boy, that was a big mistake.

PV: What? It was you who caused that calamity that made national news? But I thought they convicted someone of starting that fire!

STB: It was all a cover up. The suits weren't gonna let the public face of fire prevention take the fall. It's totally a conspiracy, man. Like Area 52 and...

PV: Wait, did you say "Area 52?" Don't you mean Area 51?

STB: Nah, man. Area 51 is the one the media industrial complex wants you to talk about so you don't find out about Area 52. They keep JFK's head there and Elvis and robot-Hitler are poker buddies. You wouldn't believe... And also.... zzzzzzzz...

PV: Dammit, Smokey! You forgot to put out your joint before you fell asleep. Hmm. Maybe I'll try some of this for myself.

Interview: Lion-O

PV: Thanks for sitting down with me, Lion-O. I must say you're still looking good after all these years.

LO: Thunder! Thunder! Thunder! Thundercats, Ho!

PV: Come again?

LO: Oh, sorry. I'm on my hands free here, calling out a Thundercats raid against that rascally Safari Joe. didn't realize you had started talking.

PV: Too cool. Who's on the line? Snarf? Cheetara? Tygra?

LO: Um, ah, someone else.

PV: Who?

LO: (Sighs). Uh, 1-800-555-TELL.

PV: Huh. I knew you could get stock quotes, sports scores and movie times on that hotline, but I didn't realize you could call Thundercats defense raids!

LO: Well, um, yeah. You totally... uh...

PV: Lion-O! I'm on to you. Come clean, you're really just pretending to call out Thundercats defense raids, aren't you now.

LO: Yeah. The thing is, I'm just sad and lonely. The other Thundercats don't return my calls anymore.

PV: Why?

LO: It all stems from a Christmas paty back in '87. You know how it goes. I had one too many drinks and all of a sudden I'm telling racist jokes, coughing up hairballs and my tail is up Pumyra's skirt. Suddenly I'm a pariah with no friends who can't find a job anywhere across the galaxy from from Thundera to Third Earth.

PV: You could always go work for Mumm-Ra. He was always trying to tempt you to join him and rule Third Earth as your first lieutenant.

LO: I'm aghast at the suggestion. Never would I join the forces of evil.

PV: Admit it, Lion-O. You applied and couldn't get an interview, right?

LO: Yeah.

PV: Lion-O, you're an alcoholic, aren't you?

LO: No, I rarely drink, actually. But I am an addict.

PV: Crack? Heroine? Guitar Hero II?

LO: Thundercatnip.

PV: How cliche.

LO: I know. I'm ashamed. But my life isn't a total loss, right? At the height of my fame I inspired young boys like you to become great, honorable contributors to society! Surely that must count for something.

PV: Dude, I'm an entertainment writer who makes up imaginary interviews with cartoon superheroes. I contribute nothing to society.

LO: I think I'll go kill myself now.

Interview: Smurfette

PV: I've got to tell you, I'm a huge fan.

S: Stop smurfing at me like that, you leering perv. As if I'd ever smurf a human.

PV: Looking at you like what?

S: You're un-smurfing me with your eyes.

PV: No I'm not. I'm a married man. I don't think impure thoughts about any women, let alone a Smurf. Even if she is the lone female smurf. So hot, so lonely, just waiting for prince charming to whisk her away from a life of cruel exploitation amid an all-male society. So luscious and tempting, but no. I must resist the urge to declare my lifelong lust for the petite blue sex object of my dreams.

S: Did you realize you smurfed that out loud?

P: Was I? Damn. OK, I'll admit it. There was a time in my life when all I could think about was making sweet, sensuous love to you. But that was long ago, 1985. I was 7. You were my one true love in between Ms. Pac Man and Punky Brewster. But no more. I moved on.

S: Good to hear. You'd be smurfed how many fellas your age are still smurfed on me.

P: Do you mean like "Donnie Darko" director Richard Kelly?

S: Yeah, smurf-ally. His sick little smurf-asy about me smurfing Papa Smurf while Gargamel watches and smurfs off? Disgusting.

P: So?

S: So what?

P: Is there any truth to that. Like, did you have sex with other smurfs, and if so, which ones?

S: There was one special fella, but no. A smurf never smurfs and smurfs.

P: Oh, come on. Everyone really needs to know. It's like one of the greatest mysteries in this world outside of who shot J.F.K. and why people watched "Friends."

S: Smurf off. I'll never tell.

P: Playing hardball, eh? OK, tell me what smurfs you smurfed or else I'm going to release that smurf tape that has you smurfing Gargamel's cat over the Internet.

S: There... uh, is no smurf tape.

P: Try me. I've got it downloaded on my computer at home. I'm not above extortion. Give me the information I demand or else your reputation goes up in flames.

S: I should be so lucky. Did you see what a smurf tape smurfed for Smurfis Smirfton? I'll be insta-famous and hanging with Britney and Lindsay in a heartbeat.

P: Allright, you called my bluff, Smurfette. There is no tape. And even if there were , it would do far more good for your celebrity status than bad. I've got nothing. Will you forgive me?

S: Forget about it. I've gotta be smurfing. It's been smurf.

P: But, but wait! Oh, is this your cell phone? It's beeping! Come back, Smurfette! You've got a text message.... from... hm... Brainy Smurf. It says "whatup, meet me bhind the smurf for a smurfjob." Whoah, total booty call. Your secret is unsafe with me, Smurfette! Damn, I'm so jealous of you, Brainy Smurf.

Interview: Binky the Troll

PV: Thank you for sitting down with me, Binky. I've always admired your work, going back to your days as a pencil topper. Talk about a rough start to your career.

B: It's a tough job, man. Erasers aren't as comfortable as you might think, especially without lube.

PV: Gross. It must help a little bit that pencil topper trolls are designed with huge holes in their rear ends to accommodate pencils, no?

B: Son, your hole is probably bigger than anything I ever had. Don't tell me you'd be cool with sticking a pencil up there.

PV: Ugh, no. That had to have been brutal for you, spending years like that.

B: It wasn't no picnic, that's for sure. But it was showbiz. You take what you can get when you're starting out.

PV: True. And it led to big things for you. Soon after you had a whole doll line, plush toys, shirts, even a cartoon, right? There wasn't a little girl alive in 1991 that didn't have four or five trolls in her possession. You have got to be a millionaire.

B: Correction - WAS a millionaire, then a little thing came along called the dot com boom. My financial guy lost all my dough on yahoooo.com.

PV: Yahoo? I thought that made a lot of money.

B: Yahoo with only two o's did, but the kind with four o's went belly up after like a month, taking my life savings, future and, to be frank with you, my will to live along with it.

PV: Geez, no wonder your purple hair stands on end.

B: Oh, a frizzy hair joke. How original.

PV: I thought it was funny.

B: You know who else thinks jokes about hair are funny? Don Imus. I don't think he's laughing anymore. And it's all because of me.

PV: It's not like you had anything to do with that, though. It was all Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson.

B: Dude, Al Sharpton IS a troll. We went to third grade together.

PV: You know, that does make a lot of sense. Please don't have me fired from my job and ostracized by the fickle media.

B: No promises, but if you buy some of my T-shirts, dolls and videos, I may cut you a break.

PV: Dude, I'm not buying any of that crap. Never have and never will.

B: Sigh. That's exactly what today's third-grade girls are telling me. I may as well end it all.

PV: Aw, cheer up. You can always go back to pencil topping?

B: I'll pencil-top you.

Interview: The Easter Bunny

PV: Hey, what's up Easter?

EB: I prefer the nickname E.B., Pimpaster E. Would you like a Peep or a dyed egg?

PV: Got any Cadbury Eggs?

EB: Hell no. I mean, I do, but I wouldn't give those away for free. They're as expensive as a motha...

PV: Shut yo mouth.

EB: But I'm talkin' bout Cadbury.

PV: And I can dig it.

EB: Candy's getting more expensive these days. Candy, gas and bitches.

PV: Bitches? What do you mean?

EB: You know - ladies of the night.

PV: Why, Easter Bunny, you frequent prostitutes? I never would have guessed. Don't you think that kind of activity is out of line for a religious holiday mascot?

EB: Dude, I'm a rabbit and I got needs. When I'm not out delivering baskets and hiding eggs, I be fornicating all sorts.

PV: Right, but shouldn't you live up to Christian ideals?

EB: Christian? I'm pagan, bro.

PV: But no! You're all about Jesus and the resurrection and saving humanity's souls!

EB: Nope. Common misconception. The name of the holiday Easter is derived from the pagan fertility goddess Ishtar. Get it, Easter-Ishtar, Ishtar-Easter?

PV: Whoah. You're going all Da Vinci Code on me.

EB: Crazy, ain't it? It's OK though. Most people nowadays think Easter is all about bunnies and eggs and whatnot. Kids all over the world worship me.

PV: Those kids are so dumb. How can they possibly believe in such an ignorant concept as you? A giant rabbit who distributes baskets of plastic grass and candy?

EB: You used to believe in me.

PV: Shut your mouth.

Interview: Grimace

PV: Hi there.

G: Hello, sir.

PV: Wow, dude. I didn't realize you spoke.

G: Of course I do! Are you telling me you haven't seen the direct-to-video 1998 film "The Wacky Adventures of Ronald McDonald: Scared Silly?"

PV: Nah, I missed that one. To tell you the truth, Grimace, the only real experience with you came back in 1985. We met at the opening of a Flagstaff McDonald's back then. Do you remember me?

G: Ah yes, I never forget a face. I remember you well. And your little sister. She didn't think much of me, as I recall.

PV: Grimace, you scared the hell out of her. Linda was 5 years old at the time, and your very presence made her cry her little eyes out.

G: I have that effect on people. It's tough being a purple tub of fluffy goo.

PV: Oh, don't be so hard on yourself, guy. You also bring lots of smiles and laughter?

G: As well as juvenile heart disease and high cholesterol. I don't know how I've lived with myself all these years, peddling junk food to the defenseless little angels. I'm such a horrible person.

PV: You're a person? I always considered you as some sort of lake creature or perhaps a bridge troll.

G: Maybe I am. No one really knows where I came from. Have you ever seen anything else that looked remotely like me? And please don't say "Jabba the Hutt."

PV: Come on, Grimace. You look nothing like a Hutt. Don't be so hard on yourself. Jabba kidnapped people and froze them in carbonite. Jabba killed.

G: I have killed.

P: Really?

G: Yes, with a thousand little cuts. With my trans fats, sodium and carbs.

PV: Well, yeah, but like, compared to Joe the Camel, you're Gandhi.

G: Compared to Joe Camel, George W. Bush Gandhi.

PV: Yeah, but look at it this way. It's not so much your fault that kids worldwide are getting addicted to McDonald's thanks to your coersive image. A 5 year old can't quite drive his tricycle through the drive-thru. Blame the parents.

G: Don't patronize me. I can't take anymore. I must end it.

(Grimace picks up a long, narrow instrument of death and points it at his mouth.

PV: Don't do it, brother! Think of the good times!

G: Sigh, I must.

PV: Nooooooo!

G: Goodbye, cruel world. I will commit an act of atrocity on my body and begin the process which will conclude my pathetic, miserable life.

(Grimace eats a french fry.)

Interview: Optimus Prime

PV: Hi, Optimus. I didn't think you'd show up to this.

OP: Why is that, humanoid? My punctuality preceptors are set to maximum reliability, and my interview commitment rate is well above 99.5 percent.

PV: Well, it's just I thought you were dead. You know, from what Megatron did to you in "Transformers: The Movie."

OP: Sir, your discernment receptacle is highly suspect.

PV: I don't follow.

OP: That's robot for "Don't believe everything you see in the movies." The 2007 movie is also a fake. Besides, there is no way that little bitchicron Megatron could kill me. If he killed me in a dream he had better wake up and apologizicron.

PV: Wait, you're telling me the events in the film weren't real? I could have sworn it was taken from actual footage.

OP: My neurological sensors are detecting your sarcasm.

PV: Your sensors are off. I honestly thought your death really counted.

OP: The cinematic interpretation of fictionalized events having to do with me and the other Autobots were meant purely to factorize entertainmentcons.

PV: "Entertainmentcons"? What the hell are those? Tell me the truth - you just like to add the suffixes "-con" and "-tron" to random names. Such as your home planet of Cybertron, your enemies the Decepticons.

OP: Silence, fool, or I shall destroyicon you with my energy axe.

PV: OK, OK. I give. I have to admit, I do see what you're saying about me taking the movie so seriously. I'm embarrassed to say I actually cried when you died.

OP: As you can see, humantron, there is no reason to activate your ocular moisture docs. I am perfectly functional.

PV: True, plus there's no way your movie could have been real, since it was set in 2005 and obviously scientists had yet to develop flying robots that could turn into cars or spaceships.

OP: Yes, this is true with Earthling technology. You have also yet to invent sexbots. I feel sorry for you.

PV: Yeah. At least we have PS3s though.

OP: Trust me, I know PS3. PS3 was a friend of mind. And PS3 was no sexbot.

PV: Touche. Well, I've gotta be going, Optimus. Later.

OP: Stay black.

Interview: Cobra Commander

PV: Hello, Mr. Commander. Before we get started in earnest, I'd like you to clear up one thing: What's your pre-megalomaniacal terrorist background?

CC: Come again?

PV: Well, the comic books say you started off as an American used car salesman, whereas "G.I. Joe: The Movie" insists you're a deformed mutant from the secluded ancient Himalayan kingdom of Cobra-La. Which is it?

CC: Hahaha, I get that a lot. The media screws everything up. One minute I'm a disgruntled militia type. The next I'm some dating Alyssa Milano in the tabloids, which was actually true. (Reaches out fist for love pound acknowledgement)

PV: Yeah I read that. I think I know where you're going with this - you're not gonna spill, are you?

CC: A terrorist has to retain his sense of mystery.

PV: Fair enough. So how is the operation going these days? Congratulations of finally neutralizing Sergeant Slaughter.

CC: Yes, yes. You'll be hearing nothing more from that loutish fool. I'm pleased to say that I've now managed to make Cobra the 15th largest terrorist organization in North America. Right after the Minute Men.

PV: Come now, Cobra Commander! The Minute Men aren't terrorists - they're patriotic Americans who band together to stop the riffraff from soiling our wonderful country!

CC: Trust me, dude. They're terrorists, not to mention absolute losers with no chance of getting any. It takes one to know one.

PV: Very well then. Your words, not mine. But I do have a bone to pick with you with your taking credit for Cobra's success. Shouldn't the real props go to your boss, Serpentor?

CC: Serpentor is not my boss. He's my associate. An equal.

PV: Sorry to break this to you, son, but you're Dwight to his Michael. You have to do whatever he tells you.

CC: What? Is that some sort of reference to "The Office"? You truly are a fool. I'm going to take my revenge against you by crafting one of my trademark genius plans.

PV: What, like cloning dinosaurs or trying to send me a Christmas present with a miniature evil soldier hidden inside?

CC: Those were, uh, Serpentor's ideas. I was against such idiotic measures.

PV: You're so lying. You tried those things to take down G.I. Joe before Serpentor was created by your underlings to depose you because of your incompetence.

CC: Mention his name again and I swear by the ghost of Napoleon that I'll shoot you in the face. It's me who's in the interview chair here. If you want to talk about Serpentor, interview Serpentor.

PV: Fine, fine. Tell me, Cobra Commander, what is it you want out of life?

CC: Oh, the usual. A fulfilling career. Enough income to get by. Absolute power. Total control of the world.

PV: Don't you think that's a little much? Can a person with such goals ever truly be happy? I mean, even if you do come to power and rule the world, you're still just a masked, scepter-holding tool in a blue suit, looking over his shoulder at the next military junta bent on taking you down.

CC: What can I say - that's just how I roll. As Jewel sang, "Dreams last so long, even after you're gone."

PV: Why Cobra Commander, I never pictured you as a Jewel fan!

CC: Why do you think I wear this mask?

Interview: Mr. Belvedere

PV: I'm sorry to hear of your passing, sir.

MB: Quite the contrary, old chap. Although the gentleman who played me, Christopher Hewett, may have passed away in 2001, I'm charmed to report that the smarmy British butler lives on.

PV: Oh, you mean in our memories?

MB: Quite so, yes. As well as home video.

PV: Uh, I don't think so. Your TV series was never released on DVD.

MB: Tallyho! Well, well. By home video I meant of course VHS.

PV: Nope.

MB: Bluray?

PV: Hah!

MB: Nick at Nite?

PV: Not even Nick at Nite.

MB: Pirated VCR tapes of the original broadcasts?

PV: I'm pretty sure ABC taped over those, actually.

MB: Well then, if it's impossible to see my show anymore, at least my fine American teledrama shall always have center stage in the theater of nostalgia in the minds of those who saw the show and cherish its impact on them.

PV: Amen to that. It's too bad your show isn't playing nowadays, what with all this hullabaloo over illegal immigration. Mr. Belevedere, you've always been my favorite illegal immigrant.

MB: Illegal? Why whatever do you mean?

PV: Don't play coy with me. You're an off-the-boat, greencardless social security siphon. Probably the only reason Bob Eucker hired you as a butler was so he could pay you less than minimum wage.

MB: Whatever gave me away?

PV: You just have that look about you. That and then there was that episode where Wesley called INS on you and tried to get you deported.

MB: WESLEEEEY!

PV: Relax, the kid was 10. Plus he was a riot. Wesley was Bart Simpson before there was Bart Simpson. His antics were why the show was so popular.

MB: Ahem, I think not, young man. After all, was the show titled "Mr. Incorrigible, Undisciplined Twit?"

PV: No need to get snooty, Belvedere. You were good too. It's just that you were the straight man. It was a shameless role. You just stood there idly as Wesley lit your underwear on fire and poured Tobasco in your breakfast cereal.

MB: WESLEEEEEY!

PV: Hahaha, and remember the time he wrecked your car? Oh, man.

MB: Once I get my hands on that little brat I'll twist his spine in half and make her mother rue the day she gave birth to that demonic little twerp.

PV: And then there was that episode when you and him were camping and he made the tent fall down.

MB: WESLEEEEEY! Wherever you are, I despise your very nature with an unholy wrath that puts that of all the creatures of the netherworld to shame. One day I will destroy you and burn your corpse.

PV: Whoah there. For serious? I thought your anger with Wesley was playful yet curmudgeoningly understanding in a surrogate father sort of way.

MB: Yes, yes. It certainly was. I was just, uh, joking. Please don't call INS on me.

PV: Haha, don't worry, Mr. Belvedere. The INS doesn't deport fictional TV characters who are played by actors who are now dead.

MB: Whew! That's a relief. In that case, you can bugger off. I'll be going now. I need to track down Wesley and (trailing off)... kill... him.

PV: What?

MB: I said I need to go tend to the table.

Interview: Snap, Crackle and Pop

PV: Hey, guys. Thank you so much for taking the time to sit down with me. I've always thought y'all were SO underrated.

Crackle: I think I can speak for Snap and Pop when I say the feeling is mutual. We're big fans of yours as well, Phil, and we'd like to thank you for all those years of buying Rice Krispies cereal and also enjoying our patented Rice Krispies Treats.

PV: Uh, actually, Crackle, I don't know that I've had a bowl of regular Rice Krispies since about 1984. I go for Crispy Rice.

Pop: (Gulps). The generic brand?

PV: Yeah. No offense, it's just a little cheaper. And it tastes the same.

Snap: Your mom tastes the same. Oh snap!

PV: Come on, Snap. No need to bring my mother into this. You guys should be flattered by Malt-o-Meal. Imitation is the higher form of flattery, after all. Even on the bag of Crispy Rice it says "Compare to Rice Krispies," for those too stupid to tell on their own what cereal Crispy Rice is copying.

Crackle: You know what, I don't think we should do this. I can see you've only set this little interview up to attack us and our product. Come on, bitches! (Motions over to Snap and Pop.) We're outta here.

PV: Whoah, whoah, whoah! No need to get all crackly, Crackle! And did I just here you call Snap and Pop bitches? You guys gonna take it?

Snap: We kinda have to be. Crackle calls all the shots. My brother Pop and I were small-time before Crackle joined the group and his daddy, became our manager. We owe everything to those two.

Pop: Yeah, we would have ended up as Pop Rocks' mascot otherwise. But the Crackle family led us to fortune and fame! They even got us these cool hybrid pirate/chef's outfits!

PV: I see, sorta like the Dixie Chicks. You both have to put up with a fat, obnoxious diva who holds all the cards. And that's not your only parallel to the shunned country trio, I here. You three also came out against the war in Iraq?

Crackle: Yeah, during a press event in North Korea we were talking onstage and my political views slipped out. I told the crowd that the real axis of evil is Crispy Rice, Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the United States.

PV: Yeah, I think I remember reading about that. So that's why American TV no longer plays your commercials!

Crackle: It's all politics. I still don't regret saying what I did, however. In return for your support, Kim Jong Il threatened not to stop nuclear testing unless the U.N. airlifted 400 metric tons of our cereal into his country so he could exchange it on the black market for oil and weapons-grade uranium.

Snap: That gave us a nice bonus check. Thanks, Crackle!

Pop: Yeah, thanks Crackle! Still, I do miss the way it was before: Seeing our faces on billboards, walking the red carpet, signing autographs for kids on the street...

Crackle: Bitch! Shut your mouth. Speak when spoken to or you're out of the band.

Pop: I was only trying to...

Crackle: (Doing mock sign language, pretending Pop is deaf). I said shut your mouth! You understand, Corky?

PV: Come on, Crackle. No need to be insensitive here just because you have a difference of opinion with Pop. He's not deaf or afflicted with Down Syndrome.

Pop: I must be mentally disabled to have put up with this asshole's abuse
for seven decades. Come on, Snap. We're leaving.

Crackle: Oh, no you're not. Snap is staying with me.

Snap: I, uh, I don't know what to do. I like you both so much!

Pop: Maybe this will help you decide. (Plants huge kiss on Snap, bending him backward like the U.S. navy guy did to the nurse in the famous end of World War II picture).

Crackle: I always knew you two were gay.

Snap: Shut up, Crackle! There's nothing wrong with being gay!

Crackle: I know. I'm gay too. Can I rejoin the group if I promise to stop verbally abusing you both?

Snap and Pop: We can't stay mad at you, Crackle. OK. Group hug!

Interview: 5-Week Old Rocky Villarreal

PV: Hello there, sir. I know you don't speak to the public often and I'd like to extend my gratitude for this opportunity.

RV: Glaglug!

PV: "Glaglug," eh? Interesting response. You're full of surprises, young man. Tell me, what have you learned in your five weeks of life?

RV: (Poops pants and cries until I change his diaper).

PV: I understand, sir. Now forgive me for being so bold, but I'm going to ask the question that's on the minds of all of your fans. Do you intend to wait the usual 19 to 21 years, or come out at the end of the season and declare yourself for the 2007 NBA draft?

RV: (Stares at light fixture in kitchen).

PV: I see. Still contemplating it. That's understandable. Moving on. Tell me, do you plan on continuing your wild bachelor lifestyle, or is there a lucky lady you'll settle down with soon?

RV: (Cries uncontrollably for 45 minutes).

PV: Forgive me, Rocky. I know I was getting too personal there. I'm ashamed of myself, really. I was wondering if you have any advice for other babies out there?

RV: Yes, actually. I'd recommend you sleep through the night and go easy on your parents. They really are looking out for your best interests, and aren't torturing you when they bathe you, wipe spit off your mouth and rock you to sleep. Try not to pee on them as they change your diapers. Kindly refrain from crying into their ears at 4 a.m. And smile a lot. They'll really appreciate it.

PV: Why, Rocky. I had no idea you were so eloquent! A point of contention, however: All of that advice you give is great and all, but you don't follow any of it in your own life! Please explain.

RV: Gladgrawg!*


*Gladgrawg is babyspeak for "That's because I said nothing of the sort, you delusional ape. You're delirious for having not slept more than three consecutive hours for the past 37 days. Now whip me up a bottle of breastmilk posthaste!"

Interview: Cupid

PV: Hello, may I speak to Cupid please?

C: Mortal, 'tis I, Eros, God of Love.

PV: The P.R. chick must have given me the wrong number. Sorry to bother you, uh, Eros.

C: Foolish mortal! I, Eros, and Cupid are one and the same! The Romans called me one thing and the Greeks the other. You know how that goes.

PV: Right, sorta like with P. Diddy/Puffy/whatever he calls himself these days. So just to make dead certain I'm talking to the right dude, you're the little flying naked baby that flies around and shoots people with arrows that make them fall in love with each other?

C: Ha, mortal! Sure, but that's only part of what I do. Did you know I also have dominion over the dead in Hades, the creatures of the sea and the gods in Olympus?

PV: Sure, I read that on Wikipedia, but "dominion" really just means you fly around shooting arrows at them, doesn't it?

C: Touche, mortal. But that's not all I do. Once I made love to Psyche, and who jepoardized our relationship by mistaking me for a serpent beast who planned on devouring her.

PV: Oh yeah, how did that end up?

C: Ah, mortal, the usual. My mother, Venus, commanded her to separate grains from a bag of rice as punishment, then tried to trap her in the underworld for all eternity. In the end she got out and we made up.

PV: Wow. So you and your mom had a kind of creepy relationship. You didn't happen to shoot her with an arrow, did you?

C: What exactly, mortal, are you implying?

PV: Uh, nothing. Let's just move on. So how exactly does this love arrow system work?

C: It's magic, mortal.

PV: Well, yeah, but can't you be more specific? Is it a mind-altering poison, or something scientific like pheromones, or are you just a metaphor for the unquantifiable concept of romantic attraction, which we humans attribute to being as flighty and random?

C: Well, mortal, I can tell you this much: It ain't the third one.

PV: Geez, man. This isn't going anywhere. And stop calling me "mortal." I know you're an invincible god and I'm easily vanquished flesh and bones, but there's no need to rub it in every time.

C: Please accept my sincere apology. I'll try and be more direct.

PV: OK, I can't stay mad at you, Cupid. After all, you've got an impressive body of work. Those arrows of yours... damn powerful. Like, you once made not one but two women actually fall in love with Hitler!

C: I do alright.

PV: Don't be so modest. I could go on and on. You got Julia Roberts to marry Lyle Lovett! And you even found a wife for Screech!

C: Cain't no one do what I do.

PV: I'll say. Those had to have been some tough marks.

C: I'm not gonna lie, some of my matchups are so crazy that they took intensive attention. I'm talking, four, five arrows at a time just to ignite the flame of passion.

PV: Sometimes you're kind of a dick, though. Like in elementary school when you always had me obsess over the hottest, smartest girl in the class. And then you kept it up throughout junior high. And high school. And even college. Women I knew I'd never have any kind of shot with. It was constant torture. How could you be so cruel?

C: Hey, I had to keep your standards high. You can't tell me it didn't end well. Look over there at that knockout wife of yours and your kid! If I had let you ever settle for less they wouldn't be there right now.

PV: You know, Cupid, you're right. I understand, and now that I think about it, it was definitely all worth it for the end result. Thanks for that. I bet it was pretty tough to get Jessica to fall in love with me, right? She's so beautiful, so intelligent, so wonderful.

C: No exaggeration: It was like taking down a rhino with a beebee gun.

PV: Well, could you, like, hit her with another one, another dose just to make sure it doesn't wear off?

C: I don't work that way, pal. I set things up, but it's up to the humans to keep it going. You've got to provide your own arrows, son.

PV: Like by writing this fake interview! Do you think all this will maybe get me out of buying flowers?

C: Don't count on it.

Overused sayings I Never Want to Hear Again

"True that."
No hip-hop expression, with the possible exceptions of "It's all about the Benjamins" and the "-izzle" suffix, has ever been more co-opted than this one. Please, please, stop.

"It is what it is."
For once I'd like someone to say "it isn't what it is."

"Good times."
This originated from the Alec Baldwin Schwetty Balls segment on Saturday Night Live a decade ago. You know what would really signify good times? If people stopped saying "good times."

"It happens."
Yeah, obviously it happens, otherwise it wouldn't have happened. Go kill yourself.

"from hell" and "on steroids"
"From hell" is an overused expression that fills me not only with anger, but anger on steroids. And not just any steroids, mind you - steroids from hell.

"It's not you, it's me."
Along with "I love you, but I'm not in love with you," this meaningless sentence is a weaker substitute for "I hate you. Don't ever talk to me again unless you'd like to find yourself on the business end of a restraining order."

"Listen, ..."
No one ever starts a sentence with "listen" unless they're either a guidance counselor or a character in a movie or TV show. Where do screenwriters and guidance counselors get this word? And why do people take career advice from guidance counselors? Do you think when they were 16 they wanted to grow up to be guidance counselors?

"Whatever."
This word is a stand-in for telling people to go screw themselves. Even worse is the response, "Yeah, right whatever!"

"Show me the money."
How about I show you my bootprint on your face.

A Tribute to Leonardo

Leonardo was a great man who was ahead of his time and created a legacy that continues to influence our world today.
By Leonardo I'm referring, of course, to the mutant ninja turtle (now no longer teenage but well into his late 30s). He was a true hero indeed, but less so than Raphael, who did everything the other turtles could do while armed only with those wimpy little sai daggers. Master Splinter trained him well.

Interview: Saddam Hussein

PV: Well hello there, Saddam. I'm surprised your publicist was able to get you on the line. Uh, where are you calling from, if you don't mind me asking?

SH: The afterlife, my son. It's so amazing here. Just like I thought, I have ended up in paradise.

PV: Heaven, huh? Interesting. Most of us assumed a mass murderer like yourself would have landed somewhere else.

SH: Ha! Foolish infidels. This definitely isn't hell. You should see it - it's so wonderful! I've got all my family around me - my two sons made me a bouquet of brimstone and thorns! - and I'm having a great time. The temperature is great, balmy, and a few degrees cooler than Baghdad. There are all sorts of zany creatures, such as three-headed beasts and talking serpents to keep you company. The people are a riot. I've got a Texas Hold'em game with Hitler, Mussolini and Lenin every week. And the entertainment is great: Any time of the day, you can walk by a fiery pit and watch peoples' skin is getting burned off by sulfur. So, so much fun.

PV: Right, uh, sounds nice. How's the love life? Did all that mess about 72 virgins turn out to be true?

SH: Well, I am having great sex. Not to name any names, but let's just say those "South Park" guys were right.

PV: Hold on, now. You're saying you're sleeping with Satan? But he's not a virgin!

SH: Not anymore he's not.

PV: Hey, now. You're gonna get me in trouble here. Let's try and keep this clean. Tell me, Saddam. How do you feel about the situation in Iraq?

SH: Things are going great. The half of the population I wasn't able to murder while I was in power is now slaughtering one another, and wasting the Americans to boot! And it's all in the name of peace, which will come to Iraq, you will see, after every single person there has been killed.

PV: Regrets. Got any?

SH: I'm the type of guy who just likes to move on without looking back, but of course there are things I would do differently. I would have mixed my torture a bit more. It was always burn this guy, decapitate that one. Rinse and repeat. I missed out on so much. I could have spiced things up a little bit more if I had ordered a few more guillotines, maybe an iron maiden or two. Hindsight is 20/20 though.

PV: OK, last question, dog. Everyone here has been scratching their heads over this one for three years now. WMDs - did you really have them or not?

SH: Of course I did. (Places phone receiver near butt). PFFFFAAARRGHHHATT!!! There's your WMD. My own personal flamethrower. Owwwww!