Category Archives: Humor

Greatest American Hero Fic – See You In Group

as BetsyM (AnitaLife)

Complete, March 3, 2006

No Spoilers. NON-slash, true to the spirit of the series.

RIP Bill Maxwell.


Bill Maxwell towered down a Whitney High School hallway on the way to meet his school teacher friend Ralph Hinkley. He draped his suit jacket over his shoulder at a jaunty angle and his dark aviator glasses wrapped his face despite the dimming corridor.

Most of the regular students had long departed the school and in their stead were gaggles of “adult ed” participants, chatting and disorderly as any of the teenagers who attended Whitney High during the day.

Bill padded his way toward Ralph’s office. Instead, he found himself stopped in his tracks by a large yellow poster positioned outside one of the class rooms.

Support Group

UFO Encounters

A safe place for abductees

Amidst “Basket Weaving”, “Intro to French for Travelers”, “Power of Positive Thinking”, “Think Your Way to Wealth” and “Yoga” this one class offering held Bill’s attention like a welded rivet.

A crudely drawn black and white UFO loomed at the top of the poster and waxy Xeroxed sketches of familiar-looking aliens graced the borders. Despite the rendition of the craft and creatures the shock of recognition shot through Bill’s blood like a slap of C-Oh-2.

Did Ralph know about this group? Bill knew that the “Green Guys”, as he like to call them, had not appeared exclusively to Ralph and himself. What if there were others, others with red suits? How had these people drawn such a close renditions of the beings and the ship that Bill and Ralph had actually encountered?

Something else propelled him toward the meeting. Bill would never admit to himself or to Ralph or Pam, but he had always been deeply uneasy about his relationship with “T.H.E.M”. Some part of him had a vain hope that perhaps this group could help, but that was a long shot.

Bill looked up and down the hall which was now empty as classes began. When he was satisfied that no eyes were upon him, he cleared his throat, pursed his lips and ducked into the room flaunting a failed attempt at being casual. Many emotions were rushing through his chest, but he felt anything but casual.

Ten or so adults sat in a broken circle of school desks, desks that didn’t suit their post-teenage bodies. One woman was weeping softly and a man was consoling her as others drew close, some patting her back in solidarity. Bill felt that he had intruded on their privacy and that walking in was a huge mistake. What the heck was he doing here anyway? He didn’t even believe in UFOs, did he?

“Welcome” said a friendly man, who handed Bill a paper with UFO encounter information on it and more drawings of aliens.

“Ah, yeah, ah…” Bill sighed, looking at the paper and thinking about the best way to escape.

“Please, sir. You are among friends. Have a seat and join us.”

“I’ll just…” he tried to extricate himself, but the friendly man had his elbow and corralled him into the circle.

“We all understand. You’ve come to the right place if you’ve had an encounter. We’ll help you come to terms with your experience. Please…”

Bill reluctantly plopped himself into a desk/chair combo as far away from the others as possible. His long legs banged painfully against the struts of the desk. He could not believe he was here, about to listen to this drivel.

Softly the friendly man began the meeting. Names were not necessary—anonymity was crucial for all concerned, to prevent the possibility of ridicule from family, friends and business associates.

“Everyone must feel safe here” he told them. “You’ve all had too many incidents where you were frightened or threatened, so let this place be your haven.”

For the next hour Bill listened intently to many remarkable accounts of encounters with alleged extraterrestrial life forms. The heart rending testimonies depicted midnight meetings, strange experiments, mysterious pregnancies, life time involvements with aliens and inexplicable abductions.

“…the lights from the ship blinded me…”

“…government conspiracy…”

“…the probe felt hot, like a poker…”

“…then I was floating above the yard…”

“…missing time…”

“…I was completely helpless. I couldn’t move…”

“…said they didn’t want to hurt me…”

Some of the stories sounded familiar, others sinister, others stood outside the realm of anything Bill could consider real. But, then, hadn’t his view of reality been shattered to bits over 3 years ago and then any time the Green Guys deigned to contact him and Ralph?

The soft voice of the moderator gently broke into Bill’s thoughts.

“Sir, if you’d like to share a story, feel at ease. This is the place for you to take care of you.” His fingers touched and formed an inverted ‘V’.

“Yeah, I, well, I never used to believe in any of this, this stuff.” He ran his hand over his mouth in a few sharp swipes and adjusted his neck.

“We’ve all had to re-evaluate our beliefs.”

“Well, I’ve had, um, encounters with, you know, little Green Guys.” he accompanied his statement with a little circle of his forefinger and a sort of whistle.

“The green ones are friendly.” said one of the participants, a disheveled man in his mid-20s who had said he had been abducted repeatedly.

“Please, let’s not interrupt each other” said the moderator. “Go ahead.” he prompted.

“Well, there…out there…in the desert…my car…I couldn’t steer and then…then it stopped.”

“The car stopped?”

“Yeah. Just stopped. Everything cut out. Zilch.”

Expectant eyes were upon Bill as he rubbed his eyes.

“You can feel safe here if you’d like to continue.”

He couldn’t tell them about the suit. That was right out. What was he doing here? He didn’t know. Could this bunch of touchy feely support groupers really help him at all? He didn’t think so. But, then who could he turn to?

He pointed to the flyer and burst out, “I’ve seen these guys!” There was a gasp from a couple of folks in the group.

“Excuse me,” said a familiar voice at the door of the classroom.

Ralph Hinkley shook his head and stared with disbelief seeing his friend amidst the UFOers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” he told the group and then beckoned to Bill as he might to Rhonda or Tony, “May I see you please?”

Bill catapulted from the room and followed Ralph into the hallway.

“Bill, what the heck were you doing in there?” Ralph demanded in hushed tones.

“Oh, I was just checking out the whack jobs, you know, they think they’ve seen a bunch of little green guys, that’s all.”

“Bill, you of all people should know…”

“C’mon Ralph! You can’t take any of that stuff seriously! Government conspiracy! Grey Guys. Green Guys. White rooms. Lights in the sky…”

“You were supposed to meet me at 7:00 so we could go over a few of your scenarios. Now, I was grading papers and I lost track of time…”

“Losing time is often reported by abductees.” said the friendly moderator, who had followed Bill to see if he could help.

“No, I… Look, I’m sorry I had to interrupt your session, but I had an appointment with this man, which he missed!”

“I’d like you to get in touch with me.” he handed his card to Bill. “I think I can help you.”

Bill took his card and hung his head with shame as Ralph seethed in his direction.

“Would you excuse us, please?” Ralph requested.

“Certainly.” he said and then added to Bill. “My office hours are on my card.” Concerned, he glanced at the partners and returned to the group.

– – – – – –

Bill continued the night with feinted scoffs against the “carrot crunching, anti-government, rubber-room candidates” that were members of the UFO Encounters support group.

Ralph and Pam ignored his rants and tried to concentrate on potential cases for the suit.

Underneath his jacket, tucked in a pocket in his vest, Bill kept the card given to him by the support group leader.

fin.

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Filed under Flights of Fancy, Greatest American Hero, Humor, My Fan Fic, NON-slash fan fic

Noel Fielding Tweet Archive

@noelfielding11

Continuing my OCD series all about Noel Tweets, I thought I’d just post the lot. This is a hobby I do to distract myself from the hobbies and pursuits I’m otherwise distracting myself from. Since no one reads this blog, it has the advantage of being virtually invisible in plain sight.

For the record, I’m not one of the women who will show up at Noel’s residence and tell the police that I’m the REAL Mrs. Fielding. There are a couple people at Twitter who may qualify for that gig. I have a tremendous respect for Noel Fielding. He’s a genius and a great inspiration. Even his Twitter account is a work of art as he saw it as a challenge to “paint a word picture” in a short space, which he does quite well, quite often.

It’s sad to me that Noel left over a few of psycho teenagers who plan to marry him someday (even if they will never meet him and are a third of his age) and who think the way to attain that goal is to attack his friends. Genius girls. (that was sarcasm.)

He has not deleted the account, and I hope his PR people take it over (48,000 followers is nothing to snuff at!) and use it make announcements and clear up rumors. If he and his people approach it as a business tool rather than a personal journal, it may work better for him.

Noel’s 92 Tweets:

  • next sataday 11.45 the genius that is julia Davis has a show on bbc . x Watch it please. this is my last twitter hope it was useful. 5:42 AM Mar 16th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Its a nice day for a white wedding. Its a nice day to start again. ha ha ha x x x 7:21 AM Mar 13th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • my hair has been xrayed and is spending the weekend relaxing in france with some friends (The Sideburns). 1:56 PM Mar 5th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • For the record I am totally fine.The whole thing was like the scene with the blind man and the harpies. 1:46 PM Mar 5th via web Retweeted by you and 3 others
  • overwhelmed by all the twitter love. Me and my useless flamingo have constructed a glass pope-mobile to travel around in safely. 12:14 PM Mar 4th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • I am fine just slightly furious . Thanks for the concern. Maybe I should bake them cookies and try to hug it out. Ha Ha Ha. 10:19 AM Mar 4th via web Retweeted by you and 3 others
  • i hope the three chavs who just attacked me in the street for no reason dont die in a hoffific motorway pile up. That would be awful . 10:12 AM Mar 4th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • monkey edwards hoses himself down with my dreams. the dream hose is wild and green. like an artificial snake. 10:03 AM Feb 27th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • monkey edwards ate my swatch watch. and vomited up the peices into a stream by the graveyard. i will whack this sick thug by noon tomorrow . 9:58 AM Feb 27th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • just made an egg macmuffin for Hugh Laurie. He does’nt know this as I have never met him. But I will be furious if he lets it go cold. 7:47 AM Feb 21st via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • my flamingo has just been arrested in stoke newington.for spray painting a miami vice logo on the side of a police van. ha ha ha pink banksy 4:59 PM Feb 20th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • the crisps all looked the other way. except for the hula hoops who were down wid that shit. 5:34 PM Feb 18th via web
  • i was in cost cutter the other day and sultans of swing was playing. i had to stay until it was finished. dancing infront of the crisps. 5:32 PM Feb 18th via web
  • A few people were shocked when they found out i liked hole. can i just say in my defence i like dire straights as well. 5:21 PM Feb 18th via web
  • Went to see Hole last night. Courtney was wearing an old greg tutu. Her voice was like broken magic. A living legend. 5:46 AM Feb 18th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Going into the studio to record some sunflash lyrics for a new guitar part julian has put down . oh rearly ? Ha Ha Ha 5:53 AM Feb 15th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • what does brian ferry see ? Everything with his eyes like split peas. Apart from Wally Womack who is folded up neatly in blind spot village. 3:04 PM Feb 13th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • now that i dont drink anymore the thought of poirot weekend is blowing my tiny mind. fuck you flamingo. you can go to the john cazale museum 8:16 PM Feb 10th via web Retweeted by you and 11 others
  • i will be honest with you my flamingo is really getting omy nerves. 7:00 PM Feb 10th via web
  • i want to watch poirot. my flamingo wants to watch the god father again. i think my flamingo is in love with john cazel. 6:55 PM Feb 10th via web
  • me and my flamingo are on the way to tescos. I am buying fish fingers. My famingo is buying party straws. we walk in single file. In silence 3:42 PM Feb 10th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • whisky bottle. brand new car. oak tree you’re in my way. 6:16 PM Feb 9th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Wish Tame Impala would hurry up and release their album . Love those boys. 8:41 AM Feb 7th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Ideas for the Boosh film taking shape and moving around on the floor. 7:07 AM Feb 4th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • smashing down the way in jack boots like junior gainsbourg 5:12 AM Feb 4th via web Retweeted by you and 6 others
  • Ray looks over at the wasp who now resembles that feeling you get when you win a competition. 11:34 AM Jan 25th via web Retweeted by you and 11 others
  • Hes flying. I can hear his wings flapping. Boom, Boom, Boom. This is the big one. Were gonna catch him Johny. 2:16 PM Jan 20th via web
  • my uncle remained a silhouette even in well lit rooms. 5:14 PM Jan 14th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • There is someone on face book pretending to be me who is deeply insane. For the record I have no face book account and this person is a dick 5:28 PM Jan 12th via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Jonny two hats is doing a show tonight .go along and shoot laughter into his tummy pouch . 11:21 AM Jan 11th via web
  • Horse of the dog the best album of the last decade hands down. Nothing comes close. 5:49 PM Jan 8th via web
  • Tiny young arms like sling shots. The white mist the broken dreams . Bing Crosby with an Ice erection. 11:45 AM Jan 6th via web
  • Threw one back then went into the corner shop to get a stamp. when I came out it was like the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. 11:42 AM Jan 6th via web
  • Just got pelted with snow balls by about twenty kids. Not acceptable. They were all screaming get Vince. 11:35 AM Jan 6th via web
  • I have presented myself through out history as a series of patterns. 10:10 AM Jan 5th via web
  • Dan says if I clean his dressing room before the gig I can get in free. Hooray. I will hoover then fill the room with scented candles. 4:06 PM Jan 3rd via web
  • dan clark eleventh of january. get a ticket and watch wonky Don Johnson as he makes you laugh and charms the pants off you. x 3:59 PM Jan 3rd via web
  • the scroobious snake,who always wore a hat on his head, for fear he should bite anybody. 7:25 PM Jan 2nd via web
  • Note to self move into a crumbling mansion in the hamptons and spend the days dancing around in a head scarf . 7:55 AM Dec 31st, 2009 via web
  • can I just say for the record my brother is not a twerp he is a beautiful shambles . There can be only one Naboo . 10:16 AM Dec 23rd, 2009 via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • The security man was nice in the end once he saw my reciept. We are going on a pic nic in the new year. At home now listening to the tubes. 12:20 PM Dec 21st, 2009 via web
  • And I am so rubbish at saying no I did the photo. Best part is the security guy took it for us. Ha Ha Ha Ha 12:05 PM Dec 21st, 2009 via web
  • So I am on my knees bits of broken c.d in my hand explaining the concept of reciebts to this ape. and a young girl says can I get a photo ? 12:01 PM Dec 21st, 2009 via web
  • Then some idiot security man accused me of stealing the broken C.ds I had just bought from a different shop. I am winona Ryder. 11:54 AM Dec 21st, 2009 via web
  • christmas trauma -shopping in town a women fell over took me down with her and I cut my hand open on my own broken c.ds. 11:49 AM Dec 21st, 2009 via web
  • “where the wild thngs are” is beautiful and magical. like the first time a snow flake lands on your tongue ..Go see it at once. 11:53 AM Dec 13th, 2009 via web
  • It was still breathing as I smashed its head in with my chelsea boot. “Typical of you.” Jason barked. “Your head is a racing car.” 10:56 AM Dec 9th, 2009 via web
  • I dragged the huge chinese shark up three flights of stairs into the egyptian palace. (The first line of my novel. ) 7:08 AM Dec 9th, 2009 via web
  • just seen the new york dolls amazing. Doing Boosh signing tomorrow in ol london town you slags. 1pm waterstones piccadilly, come as a priest 7:44 PM Dec 4th, 2009 via web
  • glitter the eyes of a frightened faun who bites the red flowers with his small white teeth brown and bloody as the dregs of wine 3:30 PM Nov 25th, 2009 via web Retweeted by you and 15+ others
  • Thank god the crayola kids are still with us. I just saw a horse made out of numbers, not acceptable. 4:02 PM Nov 8th, 2009 via web
  • ITseems there has been a major cock up somewhere I thought people had been informed ages ago. so sorry I feel terrible 9:26 AM Nov 4th, 2009 via web
  • I really wish I had time to do everything but there have been a lot of complications and things shifting around out of my control. sorry . 9:21 AM Nov 4th, 2009 via web
  • I am really sorry if anyone bought tickets I really did not know that tickets had gone on sale when I cancelled it. So sorry people x 9:18 AM Nov 4th, 2009 via web
  • Just a quick message to say my tour has been cancelled so that Julian and I can concentrate on writing the film and the album x 8:29 AM Nov 4th, 2009 via web
  • my brother dreamed I was trapped inside a huge solid gold greyhound on wheels wearing a poncho with my face sticking out. I love him. 6:53 AM Oct 6th, 2009 via web
  • also the bbc have been very supportive and I have not been fired from the Buzzcocks as far as I know. x 9:30 AM Aug 20th, 2009 via web
  • Scream thy last scream old women with a casket. Thank for all the support it means a lot to me. it really does. Thankyou wolf pack. 9:15 AM Aug 20th, 2009 via web
  • the doctor and te pencil have been released from the mental institution and are heading to the vibe bar to D.J as we speak. 6:00 AM Aug 13th, 2009 via web
  • Peter Green is a legend. Listening to him now and he is covering my soul in glitter and green jewels. 8:17 AM Jul 19th, 2009 via web
  • very excited about Boosh trip to america. Saw kasabian last night at brixton they took the roof off. watching Monkey in bed irrepressible. 3:24 PM Jul 18th, 2009 via web (10)
  • I am listening to “Newyork groove” by Ace Frehley and dancing on my own in my kitchen. what a sunday. 11:55 AM Jul 12th, 2009 via web (9)
  • I am the sure the white cat staring at me through the window is someone I once new who is no longer living. I just get that feeling. 8:12 AM Jul 12th, 2009 via web
  • I loved murreys gold bag. I got inside it at one point and danced with a creature made from sweat bands called fabric Tony. 5:20 AM Jun 30th, 2009 via web

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Filed under Humor, Mighty Boosh, Noel Fielding, Noel's Tweets

Attack of the Pod People

Excerpt from Hieronymus Boosh…

My favorite chapter pays homage to Julian Barratt’s & Tim Hope’s “The Pod”

Attack of the Pod People

“Blueberry Cage” was one of Vince’s latest former obsessions. They were a rogue band so esoteric and avant-garde that they never actually made any sounds. Sound, they felt was beneath the mo-derne, cutting edge musician. Since Vince could neither sing nor play an instrument, he was ideal as their front man. His job was to pose for obtuse art shots, lounge around in various states of undress and stare blankly at the press until even the most flamboyantly pretentious art magazines, such as sugaRAPE, walked out on him.

Gigs consisted of the five members going to clubs, dressed according to Vince’s fashion directions. They always looked fabulous. They would never stand together, and they never played anything nor stood on the stage. They believed that if they conceptualized music, the people would begin to “hear” their concepts and fall in line. So far, they had no success. In fact no one in the clubs even knew they were actually at a “Blueberry Cage” performance. It was all a part of the carefully laid sneak attack plan, their entre into the subconscious minds of the audience. It was not going very well.

Collectively, “Blueberry Cage” was disappointed with their album sales—and the consistent returns of all units moved— but they knew as artists that people were not able to grasp the enormity of the work, which consisted of a CD that contained 55.04 minutes of silence in cuts which varied in length between 4.27 and 16.5 minutes.

They were incensed by their inability to get any airplay whatsoever, and raged against the system of corporate dictated playlists. When even the outré pirate station that broadcast from a tugboat off the shores of Bristoltwistenanni refused to play them, they raged against the snobbery of the elitist artier-than-thou set.

When their Wall of Lack of Sound was rejected, they merely pish-toshed the primitive public hive mentality which insisted on the out-dated paradigm that music, in order to be valid, must actually sound like something—anything. Their work, they assured themselves, was well beyond the ken of the average uninitiated plebian moron that formed the foundation of the mewling masses. “Blueberry Cage” believed that their eponymous CD would someday be hailed as the masterpiece that it was and that they would take their place alongside other forward thinking giants of art, music and culture. But not anywhere near John Cage; he was an idiot.

“So, you won’t come back for Blueberry Cage, then. Well what about that other one, what was it…?”

“Morte de Bergamote,” Vince finished. “Don’t want them anymore either.”

I Love Rocks N Roll

Ringing Rocks Park

Ringing Rocks Park

“Morte de Bergamote” was an emerging talent on the bleeding edge of the horizon (that is, in their own minds). They were impressed with Vince’s work with “Blueberry Cage”, largely because he continually bombarded them with shots of himself lounging about in various states of undress, either looking like a helpless rabbit, a sick walrus or like an angry super model. In any case, the images were unsettling enough to grab the attention of “ModeBe’s” leader, and Vince had joined them and performed at a few gigs right before this whole ugly Toy Maker incident began.

“Morte de Bergamote” actually did believe in creating sounds. Their raisen d’etre was in Rocks (sic) Music. Their sound was not the ubiquitous raging guitars, wailing singers, thrumping bass and driving drums of traditional rock music, but rather music which issues forth from iron-filled stones strewn about in fields of boulders. Evidently what appears to be a large garden variety stone will “ring” when percussion is applied using a ball peen hammer or other heavy blunt object. The greater the content of iron in the rock, the better the tone emitted. This is true.

Again, Vince did not actually have to do anything remotely musical, but he did have to wear a costume dipped in hardening cement and pull shapes representing the various boulders being played and occasionally he would throw his back and shoulders out of place due to the odd poses and weight of the costume.

Their whole problem was in getting roadies or anyone at all to transport their “instruments” to their gigs since their selected travel boulders were many and weighed in at quite a few stone.

The group had another issue. They were facing charges of defiling several public parks as they removed sections of the natural attractions. Their defense was that the earth belonged to everyone and that they were merely borrowing parts of her for the benefit of mankind. Somehow the Judge was not impressed and they were forced to release their “instruments” back into the wild or face prison for their art, a sacrifice none of them cared to make.

In lieu of actual rocks, the keyboardists used samples recorded in the fields to re-create the sound. Tempers flared and the group polarized over the issue of purity vs. feasibility of the whole Rocks Music concept. Three members insisted that without the actual boulders at the gigs, the sound was compromised beyond redemption. Vince joined the keyboard sampling side as he was suffering from his own orthopedic ills. The remaining two band members, one of whom was sporting a severely herniated disk and the other one a broken foot, a pulled ligament and a crushed hand, were adamant about the sampled sounds model. The resulting schism smashed the group apart, but the samplers were going to reform as “Dirty Lil’ Ringing Roxy and the Hyphenated Rowsdowers” as soon as their injuries were healed.

“Fine, then come back to be in a band with me,” Howard pleaded, his desperation apparent.

“Look, Howard, I’m done will all of that,” Vince told him plainly. “I’m Vince Noir, beautiful Harlequin doll…forever.”

“What is wrong with you? Has your brain turned to plastic already?” Howard asked, exasperated.

Howard had nothing left to lose so he pleaded, “What about you and me, the team? Exordium and Terminus? Thing One and Thing Two? Bert and Ernie?”

Vince looked a bit upset for a split second but his sunshine face returned. “We could still be a team, Howard. Why not stay here? Be one of us.”

Naboo and Bollo walked over to Vince and Howard.

“Join you? And, then what?” Howard asked.

“Well, we could have tea parties, and,” Vince looked over at the table of girls and waved. They all giggled. “I know a lot of cute dolls. I could fix you up, Howard. Find you the one with the perfect figure. You could play house.”

“Really?” Howard said, his interest peaked.

“Oh, don’t you start, Howard,” Naboo broke in. “Look, Vince, we have to leave now, and besides…”

“What?” Howard asked.

“If you stay, you won’t even be anatomically correct, if you catch my drift,” Naboo said with a wry look on his face. Bollo chuckled.

“Same’s true for you, Bollo,” Naboo scolded, shutting up the ape. “What d’ya say, Vince?”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Vince said. “You can join me if you want to or leave. I’m staying!” Vince turned and went to the girls and resumed the party, trying to pretend that Howard, Naboo and Bollo were not standing right there.

Howard felt like a trapped rat. Why would Vince not listen to reason? He was about to be enlightened.

tbc…

Bristol Twistin’ Annie

“She’s got a shape like Rin Tin Tin and a face like my Uncle Ben…”

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Filed under Heironymus Boosh, Humor, Music, My Fan Fic, NON-slash fan fic, Nonsense