Excremando and George Takei, the True Hollywood Story

Sadly, our good friend Earl Excremando is trying to whitewash the past yet again. As much as I admire this man, I am continually startled at his insistence on insisting that he didn't do the various things I attribute to him.

Case in point! George Reginald Takei, classicly trained actor, proud Japanese-American survivor of internment camps, male model, underwear salesman, and Olympic bronze medalist for the sport of Pantsless Potato Farming.

Earl Excremando has a long, troubled and turgid history with Mr. Takei. Strictly a professional relationship, mind you, but one pock-marked with arguments, tantrums, a couple of stabbings, even a strange incident involving a bourbon-soaked William Shatner at the Brown Derby. Now, Earl Excremando will deny this association, but proof has been floating around the internet for nigh on a quarter of a dwarf-day. In one such video, Excremando (blue jumpsuit) can be seen to provoke a sloshed Mr. Takei into a sword fight.



How can you possibly deny this incident, Mr. Fando, when we have video proof of it right here on your very own blog? Admit it, you provoked George Takei many dozens of times over the course of a long and troubled Hollywood career. You drove him to madness, to pills, and into the seedy life of a radio announcer. Doesn't he at least deserve an apology, a handshake, and a choice quote or two for the media? Doesn't he at least deserve the level of respect you reserve for such luminaries as Fredegar "Fatty" Bolger, Joan Rivers, and Cranston Sticklyworth of the television programme "Mustardy Green's Sideways Show" on BBC 3?

Twittering Away about Crappy Pub Names

So, as I mentioned before, I'm an official twit now. (Those so inclined can follow me @earlfando.)

Twitter has a section called featured topics and one of the communal activities among my fellow twits* is to repeatedly tweet about one of these topics. One of the big ones today is #crapnamesforpubs. I'm not sure what the # sign is for. Maybe Fred Flintstone-style cursing?

Anyway, this sort of thing is right up my street and I dashed off a few suggestions, which are reprinted below.

• Ye Olde Soiled Knickers
• The Lark's Vomit (yes, I was thinking of the Crunchy Frog sketch)
• Benji's Hideaway
• Ashton and Demi's Billiards Wondereland (sic)
• The Rotten Frankfurter
• Ye Olde Shallow Grave

And, just for the halibut, here are several more I didn't have time to send. I may tweet a few of these, as the topic is still active.

• Peel Out Brews
• Gum on the Bottom of Your Shoe
• Ye Olde Saucy Grandma
• The Stinking Corpse Flower
• Oprah's On!
• The Gingivitis
• Ye Olde Raging Herpes
• Cantilevered Ball Bearings
• Lower the Tungsten Orb (I must admit, this is an oldy Stew or Linus came up with. It was very briefly considered as a name for this blog. Come to think of it, I'd go to a pub with that name...)
• The Gimpy Centipede
• Slabs of Sweetbreads
• Katie Couric's House of Pain
• Kumquats Galore!
• No Alcohol Served Here

* I use the term with great affection.

Actually...

....Nuffy is just making stuff up. My middle name is not Reginald at all. It's Seamus. Like the bloke on The Secret Show, it's changed everyday for security reasons. Yesterday, it was Frankfurter.

Also, the only time I've ever met Norman Lear was at that truckstop contest where I beat him in arm wrestling. Well, I thought he was Norman Lear, at least.

Bea Arthur whipped me good in the next round though. The woman had forearms like Popeye.

Yes, It WAS the Last Chapter

I see ole Excremando is trying to defy people's last chapters again. He did the same thing to George Takei, and you see how George Takei put a stop to that sort of behavior. If you are not already familiar with the story, as well you should be, it goes like this:

In 1984, George Takei starred in a pilot for an NBC sitcom called "Hikaru's Last Chapter," about a man with a terminal vein condition who moves into a nursing home and learns to love again when he meets a kindly old lady with a mysterious past, played by the late, great Bea Arthur. Well, as we learn at the end of the pilot, the mysterious past of this mystery woman is that she once married a horse and fought in the civil war, but not on the side of the Union or the Confederacy. Instead, she fought for a third faction called the Nor'Eastern Horse Brigade. When George Takei finds this out, he ends the pilot with the punch line, "Never trust a lady, never trust a horse, and never, never, never trust a lady horse." Oh, the laughter.

But, as you might guess, Excremando, who at that time was a director of photography for the late, great sitcom producer, Norman Lear, argued with Mr. Takei that he could not film a pilot called "Last Chapter" because people would think the pilot was the last episode (which, technically, it was). And, of course, this led to a violent tirade from George Takei, who destroyed the set, went on a rampage down the hall, started a fire on the bathroom set of "Maude," and tried to stab Jamie Farr with a plastic spoon in the commissary. The network had to call in William Shatner from the set of "T.J. Hooker" to subdue Mr. Takei using his patented sleeper hold and a lullaby.

Well, Excremando would like to think we have all forgotten about that incident, so he can now defy last chapters again with impunity, but NO Earl Reginald Fando, I remember how you started the ticking time bomb that is George Takei down the road to ruin. I remember! So, having said my piece, I present you with a Cakey cartoon.

The Final Chapter?

I think people should take "The Final Chapter" with the same grain of salt as fans of the Friday the 13th film franchise. The "Final Chapter" of that series was filmed in 1984 and has been followed by no fewer than five to six films.

I'm guessing Nuffy can top that.

Cakey and Jorge, the Final Chapter

Well, I see Excremando is having his crazy dreams again. Will he ever rise above the imaginary and claim the real? No one can tell. Instead of trying to figure out people that are un-figure-out-able, let us just watch another wonderful cartoon. Have I ever told you people that you are the best and brightest that the world has to offer? I hope not, because that would be a lie from the pit of sin.

Earl Fando's NBA Dream

I am officially declaring for the NBA draft. Stop laughing Stew.

What would make a 44 year old, shade under six feet-one inch, regular-football (soccer)-playing bloke with a so-so jump shot, a passable hook shot, and a vertical leap only slightly higher than a sumo wrestler's declare for the NBA draft? The NBA deserve me, that's why.

Mark Titus, an actual college basketball player, albeit a bench-warming one, declared for the draft as well ...and was promptly told by the NBA that he was not wanted. They didn't simply ignore the lad. They insisted that he rescind his declaration. I believe he was officially tut-tutted, too.

Apparently, Titus, an Ohio State player, has a long running blog that is - ahem - irreverent. This was too much for the NBA. "A walk-on, blogging, comical personality, daring to declare for our draft of millionaires-to-be? Preposterous! Give him his walking papers, Jeeves!"

Let's see what they make of me then.

I'll need a nickname. If I were a programmer, I'd call myself Earl "The Perl" Fando. "Fandolicious" might work. Earl "Low-Altitude" Fando? (Send suggestions to earlfando@yahoo.com)

In any case, I know I can take David "The Barrister" Stern one-on-one on the court. Bring it, Dave. I've got my A-game on.

I'm hoping Oklahoma City takes me in the third round. Frankly, they need the help.

Update: Apparently, the NBA just doesn't like bloggers. Curtis Heroman, an LSU student who never played college ball, has applied and the NBA hasn't made a peep. Hypocrites.

Update II: Apparently, there's a LOT of paperwork involved. Just like the man to throw the bureaucracy in my way.

Inhalable Chocolate?

According to the Telegraph, someone has invented an inhalable form of chocolate.

Great, that's all we need. Extra calories in an easy to access spray form.

In some cases, those empty containers will be flying out of celebrity dressing rooms like the spent and smoking shells from a Minigun.

Still, if they get inhalable bacon, I'm down for that. The calories will be worth the constant state of satisfaction I'll be in all the time.