Ok, so I suck at jokes but I am in fact an actor of, dare I say it, genius level abilities. I had a role in a movie where my character was supposed to fake an Achilles injury. I went that extra step and actually ruptured my Achilles Tendon, all in the name of gritty realism of course. Hey, That's just the way I roll. Nick Searcy Style baby. My rendition of 'Police Officer Giving Talk On Dog Park Etiquette' brought tears to many eyes. It may have been the pepper spray but I assure you, tears were shed in abundance. Which brings me to the topic of this post which is:
There's No Such Thing As Ghosts. Seriously You Guys. Stop Being Such A Pack Of Wusses.
Have you watched those ghost hunter shows on TV? You know the ones, where the hosts explore supposedly haunted places with lots of dramatic camera work and much screaming, hand flapping and general pants wetting.
They drive me up a wall.
They remind me of a bunch of 8 year old boys daring each other to go into Old Lady Maginty's house that's been abandoned for 40 years and is supposedly haunted by a ghost who specializes in sucking the blood from children who are foolish enough enter the premises without the proper specter proof blanket over their heads. Look into the mirror and say "Scary Ted Kennedy" three times and he will suddenly appear. We swear. Seriously you guys. It happened to my friends cousin's brother's Kindergarten teacher's fourth pupils younger sister. And she totally died!
They employ all manner of Ghost Buster technology like 'Ghost' cameras, 'Ghost' thermal imagers and super sensitive 'Ghost' detectors that shows cold spots, hot spots, room temperature spots, background noise, spooky spectral glows, theremin music and much other eerie 'evidence' of the presence of the Ghost of TV Ratings Past and Present. The shows emphasize the Ghost Hunter's fearlessly going to places no one else but a double dared preteen boy would go.
I want to create and star in a different paranormal show. In it I will fearlessly go into places such as abandoned IRS offices, eerily empty Congressional Halls and even the Oval Office that is reportedly inhabited by the Screaming Banshee of Scandal and just kind of wander around, all without saying things like "Did you hear that?" Or "What was that!?" And "Aaiiee, something's got me! Save me spirit of Calvin Coolidge!!"
I will pick my nose and flick the resulting booger directly on the Sacred Duvet Cover thereby insulting the Dead Scientists Brain In A Pickle Jar. From Hell. I will walk around and purposely enter a room while looking over my shoulder at nothing at all behind me. I will investigate spooky noises in the basement alone while wearing nothing more than a thin, see through nightie (Viewer discretion advised. Don't blame me you were warned). I will take a whiz in the Garden Of Evil Undead Buried Stuff. I will even pet the Fluffy Cat Of Disdainful Horror and The Black Lab Of Face Licking Death.
You'd watch that, right? I mean, it's gotta be better than watching a bunch of Don Knotts impersonators in a remake of The Ghost And Mister Chicken, plotzing themselves and running around willy nilly in the darkness embarrassing their friends and family and especially their kids who can no longer show their faces in school lest they be teased unmercifully. Won't someone think of the CHILDREN!?
Now all I need is a basic cable channel willing to pay
Wait. Did you hear something? What was that? Something's got me! Aaiiee!!!
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