Yes, as seen on morning, daytime and nightly television, it’s the FABULOUS, HIGHLY SOUGHT AFTER Balloon Boy costume, just in time for Halloween!
The gondola is a semi-scale precision laser cut unit that attaches to the bottom of Plantraco’s 38″ metallized nylon flying saucer balloon. It has the same chance of lifting your 6-year old as the one you may have seen on CNN or MSNBC TV. So don’t call the national guard or you might get yourself in a bit of trouble eh? It’s a bit smaller, but we are certain you can still fool CNN’s Wolf Blitzer for a long while to come! That’s whatcha call quality investigative journalism right? Right!
Of course, it doesn’t take much to fool monotonous mediatard Wolf Blitzer, the man who singlehandedly caused the shooting death of FBI Agent Linda Franklin on October 14th, 2002 by going on television to goad and belittle the then-famous, and media-addicted, Beltway Sniper with statements like, “You’re not a real sniper! A real sniper would make head shots!” Agent Franklin was, of course, fatally shot in the head only hours later, as she left a DC-Area Home Depot.
The fact that this asshat is still on television grates my nerves.
Well, that, and every other ridiculously speculative, non-story they re-air every fifteen minutes… Oh, like how they accused security guard Richard Jewell of trying to blow up Olympic Centennial Park… or … Balloon Boy…
Tip: Okay, Anton sent the lin to the Halloween Costume, which is brilliant. But seeing Wolf Blitzer’s name in print just pissed me off…
Sure, some people are sick of it, but c’mon… When’s the last time you watched it on DVD?
In what may be Bill Murray’s most sarcastic role ever, Dr. Peter Venkman goes down as a classic character in movie history. His pointed retorts, grandiose embellishments and perfect comedic timing truly made this one of the best comedies of the 80’s.
There is no pretense with this movie. It is what is. Fortunately, the Murray/Aykroyd/Ramis trio played off of each other — not to mention everyone else — perfectly, delivering some truly classic lines and insults.
“I make it a rule: never get involved with possessed people… ahh, actually, it’s more of a guideline than a rule…”
“No, I think you’ve got enough people in there already.”
“No, we’re exterminators. Someone saw a cockroach up on twelve.”
“Listen! You smell something?”
“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!”
And lastly, my personal favorite…
“Everything was fine until dickless here…”
“They caused an explosion!”
“…came and shut down the power grid.”
“Is this true, Venkman?”
“Yes, sir, it’s true. This man has no dick.”
Now, the TV version of Ghostbusters? Sure, it sucks… But I’d still rather watch it than that sullen, little, bald malcontent in the orange sweater who can’t kick a football every friggin’ year…
Hey, sue me… Just because it’s blasphemous doesn’t mean it’s not funny…
This isn’t a Halloween prank. It’s absolutely true.
So, first off, let’s get one big-ass presumtion outta the way: I don’t believe in ghosts. I generally think they’re a nutjob’s way of attempting to give order to a chaotic life.
In fact, I’m an extremely logical person, with a stranglehold on reality. Truth is stranger — and, generally, funnier — than fiction, so I don’t bother with the latter…
…even though I’ve had a couple of really weird experiences which’ve made me question my own sanity.
So this? This is a weird one. It’s one of those borderline, “Oh, yeah, he’s nuts, look! There’s the proof!” kinda posts. But honestly, I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. Fortunately, there were other people with me, witnessing the same things, and saying, “Oh crap!” right along with me. Or words to that effect…
Earlier this year, the twenty-first of February to be exact, the Pirates and I lost a close friend. The reactions were mixed. Some were angry about the way she went, some were distraught that she was gone, and some were nostalgic.
A very tiny minority of us remembered the way she was, laughed along with our memories, and kept right on laughing and smiling. Our attitudes helped us be there for the others who weren’t doing so well.
On February 25th, after a brief meeting with some of the aforementioned, Zacque and I decided to head off somewhere other than the usual hangout to have a drink.
That’s crucial to this story, see, because neither of us had been drinking yet.
So I’m driving down I-75 when all of a sudden, my telephone rings. I always look at the Caller ID, and was shocked to “Susan” appear. I decided, logically, that her daughter was calling from her phone.
“What’s up?” I answered.
“Nothing much,” the voice on the other end replied.
That voice… “Susan?”
“Oh, HA-HA! You don’t say!” she laughed.
“Uhhh, what the Hell? This isn’t funny!” I yelled.
“Oh, Hey, hey, hey!” she yelled, still laughing. “You know what you should do?”
“What?” I snapped. It was her… but I knew it couldn’t be her.
“You should take Zacque out for a drink!” she said.
“That’s what we’re doing…”
“Yeah, I figured. Well, you two be careful, ok?” she mothered.
“Always,” I monotoned.
“Love ya, bye!” she said. Same as she ever was.
She hung up.
I was about to tell Zacque what was going on as the tears welled in my eyes, but the phone rang again — again from Susan.
“Oh, hey!” she yelled when I answered. “Mark, listen to me — this is very important!”
I was pulling into the parking space at the bar. “What’s up?”
“You have to check your right, rear wheel. It’s really important!”
“Uhhh, what?” I asked, confused.
“Just do it, ok? Promise me!”
“Okay, I promise,” I said.
“Oh, and fix your speaker!” she added. “Love ya, bye!”
I turned the car off. The tears began to stream. Was I losing my mind?
I looked at Zacque. “Look at the Caller ID,” I said as I handed him the phone.
“What’d she say?”
“To check my rear passenger wheel and fix my speaker…”
We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, finally deciding to head to my place instead of hanging out drinking. Zacque was visibly shaken, nervous.
“Ok,” I said. “Guess I’ll drive so I can check my wheel tomorrow…”
As I started the car, the right rear speaker blasted out nothing but loud static.
I turned the car off.
“On second thought, Zacque,” I started. “You drive.”
I lost it… Crying. Scared.
The next day, with great hangovers, we drove back to my car to inspect this mysterious “right rear wheel.”
As we laid down on the concrete, we simultaneously saw a quarter-inch off-brand wrench hanging precariously from the brake’s bleeder valve inside. It was close to falling off by itself, and most probably would have locked the wheel, if only temporarily… but certainly enough to cause major damage to the car, and maybe even to me if I hadn’t found and corrected the situation.
Saved by a phone call from a dead friend?
Oh, there was more over the next few months. Sporadic phone calls, voice mails, and miscellaneous other forms of “contact” which were witnessed by others.
In April, I was going through a bit of a legal mess. One night, while sitting around with a group of friends, I got another of her strange phone calls.
“Well, hey! Well, hey! Well, hey, hey, hey! Do you know what you should do?” she said.
“No.”
“Well. goddamn! What happened to you?” she said with concern. “You have to remember one thing.”
“What?”
“I’m rat-cheer,” she said in her best Southern drawl.
“What?”
“Rat-cheer.”
“Right here?”
“Rat-cheer.”
“No… You’re not.”
“But if you need me to testify for you, you know I will.”
“What?”
“I’m rat-cheer. See ya!”
*click*
I turned off my phone that night.
As for the court case I was involved in, I wished Susan could’ve been there. She witnessed a lot of what I was testifying about, as well. In court, I attempted to get another witness to repeat what Susan had said about the incidents, but the testimony was kicked out as hearsay (which it wasn’t).
Still, I won my case. Her call made me get my ducks in a row.
The last fully verifiable contact I received from her was on May 19th, 2007 at 9:26AM EDT. Here it is:
On June 29th, a girl I know told me she had late night conversation with Susan when calling my telephone. I was verifiably passed out at the time, having taken a tumble through a glass tabletop. Others who were around that night swear that no one talked to the girl in question, either.
At the time, I chalked it up to nonsense. But in retrospect, perhaps it was her way of keeping me safe again…
.
