Subtitle

The Not Quite Adventures of a Professional Archaeologist and Aspiring Curmudgeon

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

A True American Hero

Who amongst us can forget the stunning, if brief, career of one Horace J. Pillpopper, truly an inspiration to us all.

Mr. Pillpopper, as we all know, began life in Weed, California. What most people don't know is that he was originally named Michael Phillips, but that his mother changed her son's name after consultation with an astrologer convinced her that the name Michael Phillips was inauspicious and would result in her son either dying during auto-erotic asphyxiation, or else becoming an accountant. Wanting to prevent her son from a future of accountancy, Mrs. Phillips changed her son's name to Horace J. Pillpopper; a name that the astrologer convinced her would lead the boy to a glorious future of success both on and off of the horse-racing gambling circuit. The wisdom of this astrologer is clear in her call for Mr. Pillpopper to have a middle initial but no middle name. After all, the middle initial allows him to state his name (or have others state it) with great gravitas, but not require his mother to go to the effort of fabricating a full name. In all, the astrologer showed great wisdom and an efficiency that would have made Henry Ford proud.

In Weed, Mr. Pillpopper learned the value of mastering the blank stare and the ability to drool on command. These abilities served him well every time he was brought to court on jury manipulation charges, as he could immediately make himself appear to be a stumbling idiot, and would quickly be released to his comfortable cell in the sanitarium where he would hatch his further schemes.

Leaving Weed, and his comfortable cell, behind, Mr. Pillpopper joined Barnum Luca's Great and Traveling Circus, where Mr. Pillpopper briefly performed in the Freak Show as "The World's Tallest Man" – a stint made brief by the fact that Mr. Pillpopper was only 5'7". However, the circus did bring Horace J. Pillpopper to the next stop in his illustrious career – the thriving metropolis of Riverbank, California.

In Riverbank, Mr. Pillpopper opened his now world-famous dance studio and meth lab. Though quite successful, or perhaps because of its success, the City Council of Riverbank shut the dance studio and meth lab down for providing illegal dancing in the town of Riverbank, and for not having the mandatory two-way mirror installed in the women's restroom in order that members of the city council might ensure the morality of all activities within that room.

Though Mr. Pillpopper was subsequently arrested, charged, and convicted of "Subverting the Will of the Town Masters" and sentences to execution by hanging, an activist judge legislated from the bench and freed him, claiming that the punishment was excessive for the crime, and the crimes for which Mr. Pillpopper had been convicted were really rather silly, anyway. The City Council announced their intent to take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, but was distracted when a toaster with shiny buttons was placed on a table in the council chambers.

Not one to be kept down, Mr. Pillpopper wrote about his experience in his auto-biography, "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Huffalump." It was later charged that the book was largely fictional, even leading to Bill O'Reilly apologizing for endorsing it, the first apology that Mr. O'Reilly had ever issued in his life. However, this did not prevent the book from making the best seller's list, and Mr. Pillpopper refused to acknowledge any wrongdoing.

As more evidence came out proving that many of the claims in Mr. Pillpopper's book were false (including his claim that he was the first man to walk on the moon, that Jesse Owens was actually French, that he had found irrefutable proof of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, and that Mr. Pillpopper had, in fact, discovered America), Mr. Pillpopper became increasingly adamant in claiming that all information in the book was true and accurate. Such a stance in the face of seemingly overwhelming reality increased public respect for Mr. Pillpopper, who became viewed as a decisive straight-shooter who stands his ground. Indeed, many began to believe that the claims that Mr. Pillpopper's book was largely fiction was simply a ploy by the "reality-obsessed Factanistas" to discredit a true American Hero. Needless to say, his book sales soared, and he became very popular on the public speaking circuit.

Ironically, given the astrologer's advice about his name, Mr. Pillpopper did die of auto-erotic asphyxiation – just not his own. Mr. Pillpopper was walking in Downtown Ceres when the rubber tubing that an auto-erotic asphixiator was using to cut off oxygen broke and flew through the window. Mr. Pillpopper stepped on it and slipped, causing him to fall down a manhole cover into the sewers, where an alligator made quick work of him.

So, let us remember Mr. Horace J Pillpopper, entrepreneur, author, public speaker, and American Hero.

2 comments:

Kay said...

If the J stands for nothing... do you need the period?

Overall a very cute story… there are a few moments of grammar oddity though.

And, may i just say, what a cool dude!

Ralphd00d said...

Heh. You had me all the wway to teh alligator. Everyone knows there are no gators in the sewers!