FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 1999. All Rights Reserved

Mr. Smutty by James Martin The TV commercial for that soundtrack-in-search-of-a-movie The ’60s makes me nostalgic for the good ol’ days, the days when a newly-minted high school grad was only a few E-Z questions away from a fulfilling career. Do you like rock music & venereal disease? Become a hippie. Do you like fighting & venereal disease? Become a soldier. Both companies were always hiring and the only drag (or "bummer") is you couldn’t do both. How things have changed. Not even a month into ’99 and we’ve been hit by a Y2K test run, a sneaky-pete backdoor attack by a fuzzy Trojan horse. First Furby learns a few English phrases ("Hello," "Let’s be buddies forever," "I’m going to disconnect your life-support, old man"), then he starts messing w/ hospitals and metal detectors. (As if kids don’t have enough to worry about just sneaking a handgun into school....) Mark my words, Furby will prove the agent of Our Destruction – and we welcomed him into our homes like a well-spoken leper bearing a small pox casserole. (To carry this simile to its natural conclusion, we then proceeded to take the leper’s coat & diseased arms and lay them on the bed because there wasn’t room in the closet. Then we drank from the same glass as the leper and laughed at the leper’s jokes and ate every last bite of the leper’s godforsaken small pox casserole. After his departure, we did the dishes while marveling at the leper’s worldly charm and rakish wit. Then, upon discovering one of the leper’s ears under a couch cushion, or finger floating in the bidet, we giddily declared "What a perfectly delightful reason to have the leper over again!") It gets worse. Today’s poor, naive idiot-children are subjected to so-called "family" entertainment like that raunch-fest The Rescuers. Forget Miss Bianca’s sweetcheeks – there’s nekkid human boobies to be had at 42:15:27, but that may be merely the beginning of the sleaze. The other day, while buying black-market fireworks in East Honolulu, a gentleman regaled me w/ the following rumor: Could Bob Newhart (the voice of The Rescuers’ Bernard The Mouse) be the mysterious "Bob," the legendary, anonymous Heidi Fleiss repeat client? Could the button-down mind have zipper-down trousers? Say it ain’t so. Besides, why would the guy need to pay for some double-yer-pleasure-double-yer-fun action (as the rumor goes), when he’s already married to two women? (This last part I know to be true. Why, just yesterday afternoon I saw B.Newhart kiss Mary Frann and Suzanne Pleshette on TV. And lemme tell ya, Mary was pretty hot for a corpse. Suzie, too.) Note: from a, y’know, legal perspective, the above is pure speculation and should be kept on the Q-T. But since we’ve already set off down the merry path of malicious speculation, let’s squeeze out a few Garth Brooks rumors before calling it a day. I’m at least 12% certain that I heard the following on Entertainment Tonight: Garth Brooks just performed a benefit concert for a charity called "Feel The Children." I don’t know what this charity does (beyond the obvious feeling of children), but I’ll go out on a limb here and declare Garth Brooks an A-1 jerkwipe for even thinking the phrase "Feel The Children," let alone supporting it. (What’s their slogan? "A lap is a terrible thing to waste"? "If it feels good, do them"?) Gee whiz, at least other creeps are smart enough to hide behind names like "NAMBLA" or "junior hockey" or "church." Wha? Feed The Children? Oh. In conclusion, Garth Brooks is an upstanding citizen and absolute peach of a human being. And his lawyers are really nice people who can appreciate poorly-informed joshin’ as much as the next raincoat-clad perv, or Sheldon Kennedy. (Joke!)

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