From the Immortal Chronicles #2 (Winter 1998)
Dear Sirs:
In a recent article regarding my Number One rated late-night talk show on NBC at 11:35 p.m. ("Don't Get Me Started!", Summer 1998), author Terry Delegeane refers to me as a "lantern jaw comedian." I am, in fact, an "anvil-faced comedian."
Hope this clears up any confusion.
Jay Leno
NBC Studios, Burbank, CA
Thanks for the clarification, Mr. Leno and thanks for all the hard work. But your show is still a model of network mediocrity.
Chronicled Immortals:
Congratulations on a newsletter well done. Uniformly brilliant, if we do say so ourselves. Repeatedly. Particularly enjoyed the description of the 14th Century Immortals endlessly rehashing the funny parts of "The Canterbury Tales." And we've already got a higher circulation than George.
Here's to misanthropy in Winter 1998!
David Gordy
Los Angeles, CA
What's George?
Dear Sirs:
It seems that my name was inadvertently
omitted from the first issue of your fine publication. As I am
confident I shall be taken to task in your next issue, I shall
now take up my trusty staff to swat away the locusts of liberalism
and part the sea of ignorance.
First, let me reiterate that I marched at the side of Dr. Martin Luther King on Washington in 1963. I do not know how this is germane to my particular argument, but I'd like to state it anyway. As "Marty" said to me on the very steps of the Lincoln Memorial. "Chuck, it will never hurt to mention that you marched with me on Washington. And by the way, I loved Touch of Evil. You were truly convincing as a Mexican, and I, Dr. King, did not detect any homoerotic context in that fine film."
In any case, you will undoubtedly state in your next issue that reasonable handgun control and a sensible waiting period after purchase will reduce violent crime rates and protect our children. Poor, poor misguided fools. I may not be a prophet, although I played one on film, but as a lifetime member and current president of the NRA, and therefore, one who knows a great deal more about guns than you, I can say that your position holds little water, my friends.
I am reminded of an anecdote that I have never told before, except on just a few hundred occasions, which occurred during a little thing we liked to call the L.A. Riots. As is common knowledge in the entertainment community, I keep a small arsenal of firearms, and during the height of the civil disturbance, a liberal friend of mine (who shall remain nameless, so that verification of this story shall remain impossible) called in a dither to ask me if I could recommend a Smith & Wesson for his immediate protection. But I said to him, "Sir, surely you know that you have to wait five days to purchase a gun. It's the law." Said he, "Five days! But I need a gun now! How did such a stupid law get passed?" Said I, "Don't you remember, you voted for it." Hah, Hah, Hah. You voted for it, I said. What delicious irony.
That, compadres, is what the 2nd Amendment is all about. The right to tell a good story. How I love that story. For you see, the firearm is what keeps your possessions and your castle safe from those that would take them away. I personally have 42 pistols, one for every room of my house, and if some ne'er-do-well scales the 10,000-volt electric fence, fends off my Rottweilers, overcomes my fourteen-man security force, eludes the laser grid, traverses the lava flow, and defangs the king cobra, I'll be there, trusty weapon at the ready, to fill him full of lead, and then say a prayer over his tattered soul.
As to those benighted do-gooders who say that guns are more apt to accidentally kill loved ones, I say: No, sirs, not these guns! When I was ministering to the poor and lame with Mother Teresa in India, I asked "Moms" her opinion on the subject. Imagine my pleasant surprise, when she said, "Chuck, you and I both know that a regimen of firearm safety classes, combined with parental responsibility, the teaching of a healthy respect for the weapon, and the wearing of Kevlar vests at all times, ensures that children will hardly ever be shot in the head by their friends while playing war games. By the way, when I saw the Statue of Liberty at the end of Planet of the Apes, I nearly freaked. It was Earth, all the time, wasn't it?" Yes it was, Moms, indeed it was. Damn, but that woman was a pistol.
Finally, in your next issue you will most certainly excoriate me for refusing to oppose the importation and sale of assault weapons. Those that would ban these so-called "assault" weapons, should instead bear in mind the words of the eminent Stephen Hawking. It seems as if only yesterday I was gabbing with "Hawk," whom I plan to portray in my next cinematic undertaking. During a fascinating discussion of fractal geometry and its use in plotting helioseismographic fluctuations, the subject of semiautomatics naturally came up. I attempted to get a word in edgewise, but as anyone who is familiar with Hawk knows, the man dearly loves the sound of his own voice. Said he, "Chuck, there is philosophically, and one would hope legislatively, no difference between an assault weapon and that of the more ordinary variety. Only the frequency and quantity of the bullets differ. The guns remain equivalent." My awed silence spoke volumes. Truly, I was in the presence of a magnificent intelligence. Then Hawk said, "Also, it is scientifically impossible to make Soylent Green out of people." Guilty as charged, my learned friend. I guess that's why they call them the movies.
By the way, as to the movies, you can tell that nancy-boy Gore Vidal, that if Bill Wyler had meant to include homoerotic context in Ben-Hur, he would have named it Ben-Gay. But that's neither here nor there. It has been a pleasure to do battle with you, metaphorically. So let it be written, gentlemen. So let it be done.
Chuck Heston
Beverly Hills, CA
The pleasure is all ours, you damned, dirty Republican! (Of course we don't mean to insult the redoubtable Mr. Heston. it's just that we can't get our minds off Planet of the Apes. In fact, Chuck, like your pal in Ben-Hur, we'd gladly kiss you...but you're so damned ugly!
From the Immortal Chronicles #3 (Summer 2001)
Dear Editors:
Keep up the good work!! Me and the boys really love the Immortal Chronicles. Especially that Westal guy. Inmate #323436 asks can you guys print a full body shot of Bob Westal?
Did you know that an issue of Immortal Chronicles and a pack of smokes buys you private lavoratory privileges for a whole week!!
If you have any female readers can they send me photos. I get out in two to three years with good behavior!
Your "Pen" Pal,
Inmate #476512
Corcoran State Correctional Facility
Unfortunately, I don't believe we have any female readers. But at right is the full-body shot of Mr. Westal you requested. By the way, his telephone number is 323-555-4522. Give him a call when you get out. And say hi to Inmate #323436 for us!
Dear Sirs:
In describing my trip to Las Vegas and the Miss Hawaiian Tropic International Pageant in issue 1, doubts were raised about my not providing full disclosure on all the activities that weekend. Those critics were right, but the reason is that portions of my account somehow did not get published. For example, I went into detail about the "Milk and Cookie Social" which provided me private interviews with a number of the contestants. Over skim milk and low-calorie cookies, they discussed such vital issues as how they planned to increase world peace and which person they most admired. We concluded by joining hands and singing a rousing rendition of Kumbaya. This, and other stories, somehow got omitted from the published version. Unfortunately, the original submission was lost in a freak mishap so it is impossible to pinpoint exactly where the story got truncated. Not to raise suspicions, but I submit to you that some unknown persons have conspired to prevent the full story from being revealed. These 'missing paragraphs' are probably lost to the world and the reader will have to fill in the blanks using his or her own imagination.
While on the subject of late-night parties and close encounters with the HT girls, I'll share a few highlights about my return to Las Vegas in April for this year's pageant. Armed with as much camera equipment as we could carry, Chris and I succeeded in blending in with the mob of photographers throughout the event, particularly the poolside photo shoot. While waiting for the various lights and cameras to be set up, the contestants posed for shots from still photographers. The weather was unseasonably cool that weekend so many of the contestants wore something over their swimsuits when not posing. Mindful that they were cold, Chris and I gallantly held their clothes as they posed, then politely wrapped them up afterward. Chris and I switched off as photographer all afternoon.
Spotted at many of the parties were Marcus Allen, Franco Harris, Jerry Buss and Dennis Rodman. While the first three behaved like gentlemen, nothing about Rodman or his accompanying 'posse' was civil. He disrupted the entire mood and pacing of the final event by going up on stage and insulting emcee Ryan Seacrest. How people can admire him is beyond me.
In addition to Chris, another friend came as sort of a hired gun. This man has the most incredible opening lines and is quite the smooth talker, qualities which I figured could be useful over the weekend. This paid off as he got a group of us into the nightclub at Mandalay Bay by schmoozing the bouncer. Not only did we get in free, but several of the underage contestants got in without ID. However, he was also like an attention-deficit disorder kid in a toy store. He quickly disappeared at the parties as he would make a bee-line to start a conversation with the first contestant he saw, see another contestant, and dash off the chat her up. We got tired of keeping tabs on Gregg and throughout the weekend Chris and I kept asking each other, "Where's Gregg?"
The theme of this event was "Girls of the New Millennium" and the crowning event for us was attending the rehearsal. Thanks to my well-placed friend at Hawaiian Tropic, Chris, Gregg and I were among the six men in the theater to watch the 96 contestants rehearse for that evening's show. This included a musical number where they would cross the stage in futuristic Millennium wear and strike a sexy pose. Even though they were wearing sweats and casual clothes at the rehearsal, we voted on our favorite poses and contestants with hearty applause and cheering. Most of them sat in the orchestra pit with us between numbers to rest, nurse their hangovers and catch a few winks. When a few of them complained about how little time there was for the many costume changes during the event--from evening gownto Millennium outfit to swimwear--Chris and I offered to stay backstage and help them change but alas, we were denied. However, as they could not leave the theater during rehearsal, we cleverly started a coffee and pastry delivery service that made us extremely popular.
I shouldn't bore your readers with any more stories, so that's all for now. With any luck, it appears Hawaiian Tropic will return to Vegas next April for another pageant. If Chris and I have any say in the matter, so will we!
Homer "Viva Las Vegas" Tom
Dear Sirs:
It has come to our attention that your publication, the Immortal Chronicles, has been making unauthorized use of characters from the television production Dawson's Creek, namely Dawson, Joey, Jen, and that other guy, which characters are protected under the copyright laws of the United States, Canada, and the European Intellectual Propetry Treaty signatories.
As attorneys for Megacorp, parent company of Mammon Entertainment, of which TeenGush Productions is a wholly-owned subsidiary, we are committed to defending the licensing and publication of the Dawson's Creek characters to the utmost. Therefore, please note that any further attempt to parody and/or fraudulently misrepresent these characters, or to interfere with the contractually guaranteed dreaminess of Dawson, Joey, Jen, and that other guy will result in civil litigation so extensive and torturous that you will plotz thereof.
Very truly yours,
C. Biff Ratbastard, Esq.
Schmuck & Ratbastard
Attorneys at Law
Dear Editors:
Just saw the illustrations by Raymond Marcus in the last issue of Immortal Chronicles. Now that's REALLY scary !!
Blair J. Witch
Burkittsville, Maryland
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