Thursday, September 29, 2011

Coming Soon: The Block Buster Movie Version of My Life

Washington Post columnist Jen Chaney has asked that, when this blog becomes a movie, that her role be played by Carey Mulligan. The problem is my character will be played by my doopelganger Russell Crowe, and I have word there is friction between them ever since Crowe threw his telephone at Mulligan. Mulligan reportedly is totally baffled by that because, who uses a telephone instead of a cell phone? The movie, though, will be digitized, so Jen Chaney can look like Carey Mulligan. In a studio survey of ten tourists who agree to waste their vacation watching film instead of taking the guided bus tour of Hollywood, eight stated they preferred how Jen Chaney looks over Carey Mulligan, and the other two asked for more pizza. By the way, this is the same group that also greenlighted that “The Cavemen” be bought as a TV series. Based on this survey result, we may use Jen to play herself, use Carey Mulligan’s voice only, alternating with the voice of Phyllis Diller (that will make the film lovably quirky) and my voice will probably be done by Gilbert Godfrey in the love scenes. The addition of cavemen into the film is still reviewed. We do need to find a role for Jen’s former writing partner Liz Kelly. Since Liz is now a journalist in LA, this will be convenient, as Liz can now interview herself while she works on the movie. I believe Liz will do fine, just so long as she doesn’t get too close to Russell’s telephone. We will need someone to play the role of my love interest. I am trying to get Angelina Jolie to play herself, but that mean old Brad won’t let her. Worried about anything, Brad, huh? Back when Angie lived in my building, or Ina as I used to call her because her name had too many syllables to remember, I remember her being into blood letting. I was not exactly sure what it meant until I saw the vial around her neck. Sorry, but I don’t even go to blood drives, much less use my blood for jewelry purposes. Of course, if fans want to buy pieces of my cut hair, or toenails, call my agent. Jennifer Aniston is under consideration. I was friends with her cousin in school and I do regret teasing her about her hair. I kept saying, if you’d only cut a nice haircut, you’d look so much better, but I don’t think she ever did anything about it. Maybe she could portray Angelina in the film. I can’t think of any reason why she would object. John Seigenthaler could play himself, as long as the makeup can make him look like a fellow third grader. Abe Vigoda could have played my younger brother had he not died. (Wait, he’s still alive?). And I need to find a role for Stephanie Rothenberg, currently in “How to Succeed on Broadway Without Trying”(now playing at the Al Hirschfield Theatre), because her father can blackmail me about my affair with Maggie Thatcher (don’t want Angelina finding out and getting jealous and killing a former head of state now, do we?). Wait, did I just write that in print? Oh, well, I guess I don’t need to find a role for Stephanie after all. (Still, go see her on Broadway and tell them you’re there to see her and not some Harry Potter dude.) I would also like to find roles for great but underappreciated actors such as Vicki Lewis, Burr Middleton, Olivia d’Abo, Robin Williams, Steve Moriarty, and Erin Moran. They could be my entourage, I guess, although I never used one. Usually the mob of people surrounding me wherever I went were bill collectors. Yet, in the photographs, you couldn’t tell the difference. We also need a role for the greatest humorist of today, Gene Weingarten. I am not certain what the role will be, but there will be a toilet involved.

I Am Famous For My Charity Giving of Self

I have been active in health care causes. One area of concern has been autism awareness. Yesterday, I was asked if I would speak at an autism conference. At first, I was delighted to be asked. I know being a celebrity, I have a busy schedule, and it is an imposition on my life to care for others. Yet, I perform charity work for the reason all celebrities go out and help others: for the publicity.

My initial delight at this public relations benefit for my career was I was then asked if I could speak on my personal experiences as a person with Asberger Syndrome. There was one slight problem with my agreeing to do this. I don’t have Asberger Syndrome

This request quickly filled me with two panicked thoughts. The first thought was: Is this was people think of me? Have people been telling each other I have Asberger Sydrome, when I don’t? Does this mean people may have actually been treating me more nicely than that ordinarily would have because they think I have Asberger? Is the reason many people avoid me or shy away from me or, let’s be honest, discriminate against me in a variety of ways because they believe I have Asberger Syndrome?

Who started this rumor? How long has it been going around? How widespread is it? Since Asberger Syndrome has only been brought to public attention in recent years through the media, what did people think of me before they thought I had Asberger Syndrome? What do people think of me who don’t think I have Asberger Syndrome, and what did those who think I have Asberger Syndrome think of me before they determined I have Asberger Syndrome? Do people around me think there is something “different” about me?

Then, I had a second frightening thought: Do I have Asberger Syndrome and don’t know it? I looked at the symptoms. People with Asberger Syndrome tend to be unable to empathize. Well, just because, as a celebrity, I don’t care about the people beneath me, I don’t think that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize about them. After all, if they can’t pay for the projects that involve me, that will mean less money for me. So, no, I have the ability to empathize.

Another symptom of Asberger Syndrome is difficult with writing ability. That symptomI have had all my life. You readers will probably note that. This is something I have known my entire life. I will think one word but write another one. That happens frequently. The problem with proofreading is I can look at that wrong word and still see the word I thought I wrote. If that is a symptom, well, maybe I do have something. I used to think it was a form of dyslexia. I have been telling people for years I have dyslexia. I can tell that even from my childhood books where I wrote my name Noel instead of Leon. . Or, maybe I was really into Christmas as a child. Of course, I was really impressed with I wrote Yksvokiahct instead of Tchaikovsky.

Other symptoms of Asberger Syndrome are high sensitivity to light and sound. Not true. I love a Pink Floyd concert as much as the next person. Living in New York City during my Broadway stardom days, the noise never bothered me. Plus, there was the tuba player who lived in my building, and I never once complained about his practicing. For the record, I still have no idea how his mangled tuba wound up in my trash bin.

I am light sensitive, but I was also told that is common for people with blue eyes. Only someone told me my eyes are really gray. Or bloodshot. Is bloodshot a color?

In sum, that is my experience in living with Asberger Syndrome. I didn’t know I have it. I don’t know if I do. I am not yet certain if I should be insulted that people think I have Asberger Syndrome. Yet, being without empathy, I don’t really care what they think, so there.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Still Famous For Being Famous, Part 3

Third grade was a troubling time for me. My Presidential advising tenure was challenged by the Kennedy assassination. I know that many Internet conspiracies have concluded that my fellow third grader John Seigenthaler and I were involved in the Kennedy assassination. Now that all of the Kennedy children have died, I believe it is time that I come forth with the truth. No, John and I were not involved. Yet we were involved in the cover up. As I mentioned earlier, it was me, with John, and what has puzzled me to this day, Richard Nixon standing on the grassy knoll. I was cleaning my gun and Nixon accidentally discharged. Or so he claims. Fortunately, the bullet did not strike anyone. Ironically, Governor Connally was cleaning his pistol when it accidentally discharged. No, it did not hit anyone either. The assassin was an influential man who fired from the book depository. When we discovered his identify, it was deemed for national security that this secret be kept until now. It was Elvis Presley who assassinated President Kennedy. He was in a jealous rage over Marilyn Monroe. Of course, Elvis, as President of the Trilateral Commission, was the most influential person in the world and we needed to keep this from the public. John and I took the Zapurder film of the Kennedy assassination and altered it. (John wanted to add a musical background score, but I vetoed that.) We blocked out Connally cleaning his gun. We then found a patsy to blame for the shooting, and when we found a low wage employee with a Russian wife worked in the same book depository, it was like, bingo, that’s our guy. Maybe conspiracy theorists will blame the Russians and not the Trilateral Commission. Then Special Agent Ruby took out Oswald, and the whole thing was put to rest. Americans were able to go back to living their lives in peace, not counting the constant fear that we needed them to have so they would vote to keep the military and industrial complex exorbitantly funded by their elected representatives. My personal life, though, was a wreck. Virginia’s lawyers were suing for their share of the mansion, jet, and milk boxes. A neighbor Peggy was of great comfort although our playing house was, really, just playing house. We had a great relationship where we would take turns doing what each other wanted. She often wanted to play house, and then major renovations, followed by extreme landscaping. After a while, it got to be a bit too much when she decided to have lions guarding the house. True, lions may keep the paparazzi away, yet it made me concerned that every time I went to the mailbox that I might be eaten by a lion. I favor alternative security measures.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Part 2: I Am Even More Famous for Being Famous

Having achieved worldwide fame as a singer, actor, and Presidential advisor by the first grade, the pressure was on to continue this streak. I saw many of my peers fall to drink, passing out from overindulgence in milk, suffocating themselves in milk cartons asking “have you seen this kid”? Well, this missing kid is right behind the carton, hidden from a cruel world that shoots one into fame and overnight sends you in the gutter. The gutter, by the way, is a cool place to play as a kid. Lots of neat mud and places to hide and jump out after other kids. But I digress.

I admit in retrospect that I did juice up. Mostly orange juice. I hope this does not keep me out of the baseball Hall of Fame. Of course, they don’t care if behind the scenes management figures were juiced, so I think I can make it in. My baseball career is another story. It is hard to write about. I still can’t believe I only bid $9.75 million for the Yankees and that former college football player outbid me with a $10 million bid. I just knew I could talk the city into renovating the stadium and soon the movie and merchandising rights alone would be worth more than $9.75 million. If I only hadn’t lost so much money paying to keep the truth of Watergate quiet, I would have had enough to bid $10.25 million, and today, I would have that billion dollar team. Only, with me, the Yankees would have been worth way much more with my Yankees personal computers that IBM rejected and left to some company called Microsoft without my involvement. Incidentally, what is a “microsoft”? Use it in a sentence. “Here, eat your bread before the butter makes it microsoft?” I don’t get it.

I decided to take a break from the entertainment world in second grade and spend some quiet time advising NASA. I realized they weren’t enough biogas in their fuel and the alarm system wasn’t properly registering low fuel readings. NASA achieve greater successes with their launches after my advice about “needs more cowbell”. I left NASA shortly after directing the filming of the fake moon landing, but no one wants to read about that.

Second grade was pressure filled. The increasing difficulty of Mathematics with new levels of addition and subtraction, and how I applied them to my theories of Econometrics, were challenging. I also tried to point out that if a greater than b and if c is greater than b, that in economic terms it is possible that a could be greater than b and b greater than c yet have a greater than a is a, b, and c contained variables that altered in relationship with each other. For example, I may prefer swinging on swing sets over eating an apple because, by comparison, I find greater utility in playing, and I am prefer eating an orange (not juiced) over eating an apple, yet eating an orange, while preferable to eating an apple, does not fulfill my lacking need for playing as eating an apple fills, and therefore I would prefer swinging on the swing sets over eating an orange. Yet, try explaining this to second grade teachers.

It was also terrible dealing with the paparazzi. You kiss a girl on the hand, and suddenly it is in all the tabloids. You have to issue denials that you’re engaged, that she is pregnant, explain she did not have an abortion, and then issue a statement denying that you are gay. It gets tiring. Then, you play jacks with another girl, and the tabloids are all over you. So, let me know make things clear. Virginia and I did get married, we kept it private, but it didn’t work out. In hindsight, we both married too young, we weren’t ready for the responsibilities of maintaining the expenses and demands of a couple while we both were still in elementary school and having to live solely on my income from the government and royalties. I have no ill will towards Virginia, and I wish her all the best, although she does have cooties.

Monday, September 26, 2011

MY EARLY FAME (Part 1 of Many Important Parts)

I was born in a log cabin in Nigeria with a silver spoon in my mouth, causing the surgery to remember that he had left it there in a previous operation. Fortunately, my parents had the foresight to know that the United States might someday, as they did years later, pass Medicare, as they wanted the future benefits, so they registered my birth in the United States. They did this by finding a small town paper in Wasilla, Alaska announcing my birth. Years later we moved to Wasilla, talked out way into a replacement birth certificate for a non-existent one. This was very easy to do as we slipped the forms past the government employees who were too busy looking at Russia out their windows.

I was a resourceful baby. I gnawed off my own umbilical cord and strangled my twin with it when no one was watching. While in the baby room, I evaluated the situation and switched myself with a baby whose parents appeared to be far more affluent than my birth parents.

I was a top student in my nursery school. I bought my assignments from smarter children. I would give Oreos for shoes with tied shoe laces. A Twinkie got me stolen museum abstract artwork. This did not always work as sometimes the art was so bad I would only get an average grade for it. Fortunately, accounting for my age, critics consider me ahead for my art and I was often able to sell the artwork back to the very same museums. They never caught on that the dribbling messes they were missing were the very same artworks they were re-hanging.

As an aside, did you know that there are no food substances in Twinkies? They are made from rocks and chemicals. I did well not eating them. Like Midas, people who eat them have kidneys that turn to stone. Those were good trades on my part.

My talents included singing. I sang like an angel, or, more exactly, people felt as if they were dying and seeing angels when I sang. This was good enough to become a baby punk rock star. “Please Mind the Bullocks and Keep Them Diapered” remains a classic song of mine.

There was a lot of pressure entering first grade as a famous singer and artist. It was difficult handling all the autograph requests, especially since I had not yet learned how to write. Fortunately, my scribbled papers presented to fans are now accepted in currency in many parts of Europe. In fact, whenever I travel, I never pay for anything as I just scratch out some art in payments. The IRS, though, insisted on my using colors for their picture.

Naptime was always a favorite period of mine in first grade. I would keep my eyes open and watch as the first grade and second grade teachers kissed and made out. I was sad as their relationship deteriorated towards the end of the school year. It makes me glad to state that I was able to suggest some sexual positions that enabled their relationship to continue and move forward.

The problem with the American school system soon was obvious to me. They forced students to do something called “Kickball”. The object of this assignment was to kick a ball and then run. I added new elements that improved the game, which included firing pistol shots into the monkey bars and then running. That was far more exciting than kicking a ball and running around in a circle.

It was my blessing that I was able to persuade ABC Sports to broadcast my Pistol Shots into the Monkey Bars and Run games. This widened my fan base to include jocks, gun enthusiasts, and sociopaths. The monkey bar manufactures were very supportive as their sales in replacement monkey bars alone kept them in riches. Some stated I sold out the sport when I did beer commercials, yet I did them because they were tastefully done. The nudity was essential to the story.

There is one controversy about my elementary years I wish to make clear. Granted, I was in Dallas on the grassy knoll on the day in question. I was cleaning my rifle when it accidentally went off. I have no idea what happened from that point on. That is not my problem.

To this day, I am confused over the Bay of Pigs controversy. Who cares? What if there was a Sea of Giraffes and a Pond of Tigers? I say, let things be as they are. When I told that to Kennedy, he seemed relieved and told me he would not push the button. I did not realize that button pushing was involved. I tried to push the button when no one was looking, but I couldn’t get it all the way down. That is too bad, as I am sure it would have been a blast.

One of my early interests was bugs. They are fascinating creatures. I used to capture beetles and put them in a jar. I sat next to Ed Sullivan on a flight to England and he was fascinated by my five hour lecture on beetles. I told Ed he should look into beetles and I understand he did just that.

I graduated first grade magna cum laude. For my commencement speech, I showed how Einstein’s theory that the speed of light was an absolute was incorrect by noting that the electrons circling the protons and neutrons traveling at the speed of light had to be traveling faster than the speed of light in order to maintain a forward momentum of traveling at the speed of light. This was overshadowed by my forecast that a war in Viet Nam would not end quickly and would only instill nationalist feelings that of defending themselves against a foreign power. I wonder how that turned out. I never kept up on that issue once those hilarious 1960s TV sitcoms came out.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

I Am Famous For Being Famous

Thank you for reading this.

Please contact my agent for reality TV series availability.

Also, please read my other blogs.

Sorry, but I will not provide links to any celebrity sex tapes I never made.

I have never crashed the Obama White House, although I was once with a prostitute and Bill Clinton, but I already wrote about that.

I have met famous people like Olivia d'Abo. And Bill Clinton.

I never partied with Charlie Sheen, but Erin Moran once stole my drink, twice.

I was on a C-SPAN show with Melissa Gilbert once. Three friends called to tell me they saw it. I am worried that I know three people who watch C-SPAN.

I will glady sign autographs for free, if you pay an appearance free upfront. Call my agent.

Now, if only I could get an agent...