It’s been quite the week for me. I finished co-producing a wonderful short film and immediately took to the bed with flu-like symptoms.
With a raging stomach ache and back ache and uneven equilibrium, visions of me on a gurney with EMT’s trying to revive my life-less body were pounding in my head when I was jolted from near-death by my television showing a silver alien spaceship flying somewhere over the Colorado terrain.
Had I crossed the line into swine insanity?
Had the Martians finally arrived, as they once told me they would?
I then heard the newscaster excitedly announce that a little boy was allegedly in a box on the bottom of the silver device which he said was a flying weather contraption some man in Colorado had built and tethered in his backyard.
My reality antenna suddenly went erect. Even in my delirious state I knew something was not right with this story.
With nothing else to do I followed the newscasts to the landing and the discovery that the little boy was nowhere to be found. People of the world sat at the edge of their seats wondering where the little boy could be, only to be relieved (and somewhat disappointed) that the little rugrat was hiding in the attic above the garage. And then the little boy makes a slip up when he was asked why he hid away saying, “You guys said we did it for the show.”
Let’s face it, the whole thing was staged, a hoax, an attempt by Richard Heene to achieve a celebrity status he didn’t have the talent for when he trolled the streets of Hollywood as an actor wannabe. Hey, if you can’t succeed as an actor then stage a media event to cement a reality television deal. Well I say no deal Heene; you’re a fraud.
Heene and his wife should be ashamed of what they’ve done and what they’ve put their children through. With parents like that there’s definitely therapy in the children’s future.
I think Richard Heene should meet up with Jon Gosselin and form the “Celebrity-Whore Club for Men” where there’s no dignity, no intelligence, no balls, bad behavior, and bloated egos.
I suddenly feel much better.
With a raging stomach ache and back ache and uneven equilibrium, visions of me on a gurney with EMT’s trying to revive my life-less body were pounding in my head when I was jolted from near-death by my television showing a silver alien spaceship flying somewhere over the Colorado terrain.
Had I crossed the line into swine insanity? Had the Martians finally arrived, as they once told me they would?
I then heard the newscaster excitedly announce that a little boy was allegedly in a box on the bottom of the silver device which he said was a flying weather contraption some man in Colorado had built and tethered in his backyard.
My reality antenna suddenly went erect. Even in my delirious state I knew something was not right with this story.
With nothing else to do I followed the newscasts to the landing and the discovery that the little boy was nowhere to be found. People of the world sat at the edge of their seats wondering where the little boy could be, only to be relieved (and somewhat disappointed) that the little rugrat was hiding in the attic above the garage. And then the little boy makes a slip up when he was asked why he hid away saying, “You guys said we did it for the show.”
Let’s face it, the whole thing was staged, a hoax, an attempt by Richard Heene to achieve a celebrity status he didn’t have the talent for when he trolled the streets of Hollywood as an actor wannabe. Hey, if you can’t succeed as an actor then stage a media event to cement a reality television deal. Well I say no deal Heene; you’re a fraud.
Heene and his wife should be ashamed of what they’ve done and what they’ve put their children through. With parents like that there’s definitely therapy in the children’s future.
I think Richard Heene should meet up with Jon Gosselin and form the “Celebrity-Whore Club for Men” where there’s no dignity, no intelligence, no balls, bad behavior, and bloated egos.
I suddenly feel much better.
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