The world receives the sad news that one of our cultural icons is gone. Shortly before his death, Cheetah sat down with bobcrespo.com for an exclusive interview. Cheetah, who was born into a show business family,  was in New York City to consult with kidney specialists at Sloan -Kettering institute, had his agent contact bobcrespo.com to grant what would be his final interview. Read on:

Bob Crespo: “Thank you for granting us this interview, Mr. Cheetah, it is an honor and a pleasure.”

Cheetah: “No prob, Bob, and drop the Mister! It’s just Cheetah.”

BC: “Thank you, Cheetah! So, what brings to you to New York City? I heard you were living in retirement in Florida?”

Cheetah: “What else? Doctors! At my age it’s always one thing or another , prostate, heart trouble, you-name-it! This time it’s my kidneys. I remember back in the day when a trip to the Big Apple meant tons of fun, nightclubs, restaurants, shows…”

BC: “Sorry to hear of your health woes, Cheetah. May I ask how old you are?”

Cheetah: “Sure, I’m 80.”

BC: “And how many years is that in Chimp Years?”

Cheetah: “It’s 80, fool! You think the calendar changes because I’m a chimp? Get real!”

BC: “Well, I just thought that since one year is 7 dog years…”

Cheetah: “That’s a bunch of crap too! Dog simply don’t live all that long. Chimps do.”

BC: “Sorry…”

Cheetah: “Just don’t make me sorry I signed up for this interview with your cockamamie outfit! What the hell is a bobcrespo.com, anyway? My agent said your site is on the “cutting edge” and I should talk to you. The cutting edge of what, being a complete jackass?”

BC: “Well, there are some who have said exactly that…”

Cheetah: “Ah, don’t mind me, son, I’m just getting a bit grumpy in my old age, and I’m thinking his kidney deal might just bring down the curtain on old Cheetah… Go ahead, ask your questions.”

BC: “How did you get into show business?”

Cheetah: “The oldest Show Biz story in the books, but the God’s honest; born in a trunk in DeMoines to a touring vaudeville family of Chimpanzees. Dad was Jiggs, Mom was Daisy, and I was part of the act  before I was weaned, learning to dance, be an acrobat and dress in a tuxedo with a derby, Classic Chimp Comedy Clothes.”

BC: “I thought you were born in the wilds of Africa…”

Cheetah: “Why, because I’m a Chimp? Did you think the same of Louis Armstrong and Lena Horne because they were black? Don’t get me started...”

BC: “No, no, it’s just that in all your Tarzan Movies, you seemed so at home in Africa…”

Cheetah: “Ever hear of a skill called acting, Bob? Like you, I’m born in the USA!  Not a single one of those movies were shot in Africa, I’ve never even been there! They were done mostly on movie studio sets, and the location shots were taken in Florida or Central America, and the “jungle animals” were all actors like myself, every one of them with an S.A.G. card. Old Leo the Lion, good buddy of mine and most famous for roaring at the beginning of every MGM movie, he was in all sorts of films, ‘Mighty Joe Young,’ ‘Ben Hur,’ ‘Samson & Delilah,’ you name it. They needed a lion, Leo was the go-to guy. He had great acting chops , never flubbed a roar, and was in huge demand.”

BC: “What was it like working with Johnny Weismuller?”

Cheetah: “Hell of a nice guy, but a bit of a dumb jock, and I had to carry him for our first bunch of pictures before he learned to act. Being a champion Olympic swimmer doesn’t qualify you for being much but being a champion Olympic swimmer, otherwise that pothead bozo Michael Phelps would be a huge star, but Johnny was pretty game and put his mind into learning the trade, and always asked me for tips and advice. When he got stuck on the motivation for his character’s lines a couple of times, I just slapped him upside his head and reminded him this that was Tarzan we’re talking about here, not Hamlet! Just hit your mark and say ‘Bad men must leave jungle now!’ He eventually got it and you could wake him up in the middle of the night and he could deliver that whacky Tarzan scream and mumble some inarticulate crap quite easily.”

BC: ” You make it sound so … pedestrian… workmanlike…”

Cheetah: “It’s a job, Bob! We’re really good at acting and special effects and telling stories out in Hollywood, in case you weren’t aware. You’re a musician, you oughtta know that just because you sing a sad song doesn’t mean you’re feeling suicidal!”

BC: “Sorry, you’re right of course…”

Cheetah: “Damned straight I’m right! I haven’t been in Show Biz for 80 years for nothing!. That’s why they call it show business, not show art! Artists starve, entertainers make serous dough!”

BC: “I think I’m beginning to see my own problem… Anyway, what was Maureen O’Sullivan like?”

Cheetah: “A dream to work with, a consummate pro, and damned easy on the eye, lemme tellya! She and I had a thing for each other, hot and heavy, for years you know, we were very deeply in love…”

BC: “I’d never heard that!”

Cheetah: “Of course you didn’t, the studios kept a tight lid that stuff back in the day, so you never knew about interracial couples, drunks, dope fiends, gay matinee idols, love children and so on. Don’t forget, this was the 1930s, when baseball wasn’t even integrated, never mind the rest of the country, and with the Great Depression going on, most people didn’t have two nickels to rub together. The Hollywood American Dream Machine was busy trying to keep up appearances, and eventually Maureen and I drifted apart due to some pretty intense studio pressure…”

BC: “A shame…”

Cheetah: “Yes… yes it was… and one of my few regrets, not getting to raise my own son…”

BC: “You had a child with Maureen O’Sullivan?”

Cheetah: ” We did, and I don’t care who knows it now! After a lot of arm twisting by studio bosses, we gave the boy up for adoption so he’d have a shot at a normal life far away from the spotlights and the inevitable scandal… but it was in his blood, I suppose, and he’s a famous man today. Maybe you’ve heard of our son, he’s a pretty big deal on TV, his name is Bull O’Really. I can’t help but think that he wouldn’t have turned out to be such a cold, arrogant jackass if I had raised him myself… ah, but that’s all water under the bridge now…”

BC: “Are you in touch with your son?”

Cheetah: Sadly, no. He’s ashamed to introduce me to his family. I’m Jewish, you see, and he’s a devout Catholic, and won’t tolerate my Judaism, even though I’m not particularly observant. Funny, but Maureen never had a problem with that, and she was as Irish Catholic as they come!”

BC: “Do you miss Maureen?”

Cheetah: “Very much so. I have fresh roses sent to her grave once a week since we lost her back in ‘98.”

BC: “Did you stay in touch with Johnny Weissmuller after the Tarzan movies?”

Cheetah: “Who do you think set him up with the ‘Jungle Jim’ franchise? I had been in the business all my life as a performer, and knew I was always going to be typecast, “the Chimp in the picture,” so I branched out into producing, directing and screenwriting, and brother, that’s where the money is, and the creative control! I set Johnny up as executive producer, and he retired on his Jungle Jim residuals. Wasn’t much call for aging Tarzans in Hollywood either, so Johnny invested wisely and was sitting pretty in his golden years until de died in 1984. I did the same thing for Maureen, and why not? There was plenty of dough to go around, and I say dance with the one who brung ya! We three came up together, became stars together, and no one ever had to throw any benefits for Tarzan, Jane, or Cheetah, thank you very much!”

BC: “Very generous of you, Cheetah. I know you have retired completely from Show Biz these past several years, so how have you spent your Golden Years?”

Cheetah: “Writing my memoirs, of course! The book is called ‘The Chimp Stays in The Picture,‘ and will be published by Random House in the Spring of 2012, going for the must-read summer books lists, huge promo campaign, and also available on Kindle and iBooks. I’ve been tweeting short passages to my Twitter following, so advance orders have been strong…”

BC: “You have a Twitter following?”

Cheetah: “Who doesn’t? Only Ashton Kutcher has more followers than me! You know what they’re saying; ‘Tweet or die,’ Bob, Tweet or die!”

BC: “I think I’m seeing another thing I’m doing wrong…”

Cheetah: “You mean that an 80 year-old monkey has a Twitter account and you don’t? Get real, Bob, check the calendar!”

BC: :”Pretty much, Cheetah, pretty much… I see I have much to learn from you Show Biz veterans. Thank you for taking time out to speak with bobcrespo.com, Cheetah. It has been an honor.”

Cheetah: “No prob, Bob! And remember, ‘The Chimp Stays In The Picture’ comes out this spring, and early word on the Strip is that Spielberg is dickering for the rights, and already has Matt Damon on board to play me! Happy New Year, Tarzan Fans!”

On the first Sunday morning of November, like every first Sunday in November for the past 20 years, THE TASH BROTHERS BAND gets up at the wrong side of dawn to play The New York City Marathon at 89th St. & 4th Avenue in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. We set up our gear in front of Bay Ridge Honda  and start playing at the ungodly rock & roll hour of 9:30 AM.

Why do we do this? Because it is the wildest, most exciting gig of the year, an adrenaline rush like nothing else, for the band, the spectators, the volunteers and the 40,000 screaming maniacs in speedos on the first few blocks of their long run. That’s why this our 20th year performing for the runners and their many fans and well-wishers that line the 26 mile route through all 5 New York City boroughs.

We start cranking out high energy rock & roll as soon as the runners come barreling down 4th Avenue from the starting gate on the Verrazano Bridge, a moving, undulating swarm of humanity psyched for the big day they  trained so hard for, and we give them some high octane music to keep them strong.

A lot of runners stop and sing with the band, shake a tambourine, or snap some photos before continuing on they way. Meanwhile, the rest of them are filling 4th Avenue curb to curb, whistling, dancing, waving and cheering as they run. The big crowds all around the band on both sides of the street get onto the act too, cheering the runners, handing out bottled water and high-fiving people from Argentina, Nigeria and Sweden.

On the sidewalk on both sides of the band are big bins to collect food donations for City Harvest, New York City’s most effective food bank. People that come to our little portion of the race bring along a small donation of non-perishable food items, a few cans here, some bags of rice there, and by the end of a couple of hours we’ve all had one whale of a good time and have collected hundreds of pounds of food for our less fortunate New York brothers and sisters and their children.

It’s a win-win situation, a huge, amazing and unique New York City spectacle on a glorious Fall morning. This Sunday the forecast  is for sunny and 60 degrees, not an ideal temperature for Marathoners but a pretty good one for Rock & Rollers. So come on down to Bay Ridge this Sunday, bring a small food donation and a set of high expectations. I guarantee you they will be exceeded.

And please don’t forget about City Harvest for the rest of the year. Hunger knows no season. Their only mission is to eradicate hunger in their home town, New York City. Google them and find out what they are all about and see what you can do to help.

Meanwhile, in the words of the late, great Bob “The Bear” Hite of Canned Heat:

“AND… DON’T… FORGET… TO BOOGIE!”

The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious (DOPOTO) has been following the Occupy Wall Street movement, a popular protest against corporate greed and criminal business practices, as well as the responses of opponents of the movement. The protesters call themselves the 99%, referring to the fact that 1% of Americans are hogging all the money and impoverishing their countrymen.

Several small cities’ worth of foreclosed homes dotting the land attests to the validity of a rapidly shrinking middle class, and the corresponding spike in the wealth of the richest 1% of their countrymen. Senior Analysts at The Department are a skeptical sort by nature and training, and view this “coinicidence” as anything but a random occurrence.

Researchers at DOPOTO have discovered this is not quite accurate, because the 1% figure is an exaggeration. It is actually less than 1%,  but  about .0006% of Americans who have all the money, so technically, the Occupy Wall Street people should be called the 99.4%. In America, over 40% of the wealth is concentrated in the hands of six-tenths of a percentage point of the population, about 1,860,000 individuals and their families out of 310,000,000 U.S. citizens at last count.

Out of this tiny minority, 412 individuals stand head and shoulders above even them by being billionaires, the very tip top of the totem pole in the Owning Of Things Department. These 412 people and their families own more wealth than half of all American citizens combined. Their average wealth is 2.75 billion dollars, making them less than  one-quarter of a percentage percentage point of the 1%, or, one in 742,000 Americans (you do the percentage point math on that one, that being one of DOPOTO’s regrettable weak points).

It has been further ascertained that while these one-percenters pay taxes on their half of the nation’s income, most of their income is labeled as “capital gains” and so goes untaxed. On the other hand, the 99.4% pays instant withholding taxes at a higher percentage of their earnings than the 1% pays on their stated earnings (a whole different ballpark), with little or no access to loopholes or tax shelters.

Another surprising thing is that for the first time in recorded history, a popular mass opposition movement has been mobilized not against any government, but against corporations, which the population views as the biggest threat to their collective prosperity and well being, filled with people who steal vast sums of money even though they are already fabulously wealthy, and who infiltrate and corrupt their elected government.

The 1% responds to all this by basically declaring that this is good old American Capitalism at work and tough noogies if we’re smarter than you and can rig the game. Who is right and who is wrong is beside the point, and not the place of The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious to decide. Ours is only to point out the obvious, our only mission.

Our archival research indicates that any public compromise forthcoming will signal a victory for the wealthy over the many, for historically they have employed the better lawyers. There are but 2 possible outcomes to this popular rising: the mighty will fall or the mighty will win and things will continue as they are.

Analysts here at DOPOTO have collated this data with our research on the loss of American jobs to Third World tyrannies, the growing list of ghost houses, the 2 wars being waged on credit and the latest research reflecting the average 30% raise that corporate executives voted themselves this year, and have come to but one obvious (our only specialty) conclusion: It’s good to be King. While it lasts.

This was a report from The Department Of Pointing Out The Obvious

American politicians are prepping for their quadrennial World Cup in 2012, The Presidential Election. A lousy economy has Republicans smelling blood in the water as the president’s approval rating plummets in perfect parallel to the Dow Jones Industrial average. We’re all about the money around here, see. Benjamins, or the glaring lack of of them.

So, a bunch of Republicans have been spending an astounding amount of money getting into game shape for over a year in anticipation of primary season. On the advice of their inner circle, most of them go the extra yard and hire personal trainers, highly paid specialists called “President Coaches,” who teach them how to appear reasonable and presidential. This is no easy task, since most of them are I’ll-stand-the-whole-way-in-the-subway-rather-than-sit-down-next-this-frightening-person crazy. There are good reasons why these people have “handlers.”

Clearly, these President Coaches are taking the wrong tack here, trying to smooth out the rough edges of the Rocky Mountains This is as impossible a task as our former President Bush The Younger, who set the bar for crazy presidents, has given himself in retirement; clearing all the brush in Texas. Trying to do a makeover of an insane person is as nuts as they are. The coaches need to play to their candidate’s strengths, not reinvent them, and their main strengths are their strident ignorance coupled with obvious insanity, but a good coach uses the players he has, not the team he wishes he had. What is needed is bold thinking, some off-the-wall campaign slogans and promises that will make one raving lunatic stand out above the rest.

Their whole theory of winning the 2012 Presidential World Cup is that President Obama is so weak in the polls that America is in the mood to elect a crazy and dangerous president just for spite, so why not me? Why bother to coach that kind of exuberance out of a candidate, that raw lust for the game? Instead, the challenge is to somehow convince the people that abrasive insanity and willful ignorance are essential presidential attributes in these trying times. Maybe try some of these attention-getting slogans:

VOTE FOR ME OR YOU’RE A LIBERAL PUKE!

THE BILL OF RIGHTS:  A BURDENSOME SET OF ENTITLEMENTS!

I WON’T KILL ANYONE THAT DON’T NEED KILLIN’!

I CAN SEE CHINA FROM MY YACHT, AND IT’S NOT PRETTY

LETS CHANGE THE NAME OF THE COUNTRY TO “BIG DAWG OF AMERICA!”

AMERICA IN CRISIS: ARE THE POOR DOING ENOUGH?

HATE THE SIN, KILL THE SINNER!

GOD WANTS AMERICA TO KILL HIS ENEMIES!

MEMO TO FRANCE: THANKS FOR THE STATUE, BUT KEEP THE POODLES!

KEEP THE GOVERNMENT’S HANDS OFF OUR FARM SUBSIDIES!

WHEN THEY OUTLAW JOHN DEERE CAPS, ONLY OUTLAWS WILL WEAR JOHN DEERE CAPS!

VOTE FOR ME AND I’LL BE PRESIDENT!

I’M LOUDER, AGRIER AND MORE UNPREDICTABLE THAN MY OPPONENT!

GOD HELPS THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES, AND I’VE HELPED MYSELF TO EVERYTHING THAT WASN’T NAILED DOWN!

SCIENCE, SHMIENCE, WINTER IS TOO COLD ANYWAY!

THE TEA PARTY – RESTORING AN AMERICA THAT NEVER WAS!

THE TEA PARTY – GOOD ENOUGH FOR ALICE IN WONDERLAND, GOOD ENOUGH FOR AMERICA!

A DISCO BALL IN EVERY HOME!

DON’T LOOK NOW, BUT THE PRESIDENT IS A BLACK GUY FROM KENYA!

VOTE FOR ME OR RISK GOD’S FIERY WRATH!

ONLY LIBERAL PUKES KNOW WHERE ALL THE COUNTRIES ARE!

IT’S TIME TO ROLL BACK SOCIALISM – FIRE THE FIRE DEPARTMENTS!

THE ONLY GOOD TERRORIST IS A REVENUE-PRODUCING TERRORIST!

AMERICA FIRST, RIGHT AFTER WE DESTROY OUR PRESIDENT!

BEING RICH IS GOD’S STAMP OF APPROVAL!

THE TEA PARTY – FOSTERING CRACKERS’ ILLUSIONS SINCE 2008!

In a recent session U.S. The Supreme Court decided that corporations are people, entitled the same rights and privileges as individuals. As batshit crazy as that sounds, that is now the law of the land. It seems that somebody somewhere passed a law prohibiting corporations from purchasing elections wholesale to add to their already sizable collection of Congressmen, which pissed off the corporations no end when they were so close to a complete set!

So the corporations sued and lost a bunch of times (not all courts are crazy) and appealed all the decisions against them all the way to the Supreme Court, spending many, many millions of dollars in the process. Corporate lawyers argued that, just like any other citizen, they were entitled to spend their money as they see fit. The fact that corporations are not human beings but businesses didn’t stop grown men and women from arguing that they indeed were.

Well, as luck would have it, today’s Supreme Court is dominated by Major Corporate Stooges, so it was decided by the Final Word in American Law that corporations could indeed buy all the elections they darn well pleased, because, you see, they were people just like you and me after all!  As absurd as this sounds, this concept has actually been embraced by Republicans, and the leading GOP candidate for president just reminded a voter that “Corporations are people, my friend!”

We beg to differ. There are many things people can do that corporations cannot do, things that define us as people. Can corporations do these things? You decide:

Get laid in the back seat of a Mustang.

Get a tattoo saying “Geraldine 4 Ever” on your neck.

Breathe.

Wiggle their ears.

Feel hungry.

Go to a baseball game.

Take a good crap.

Get arrested.

Catch a cold.

Be responsible for one’s own actions.

Flirt with the waitress.

Care.

Play bagpipes.

Apologize.

Repay loyalty.

Vote.

Write a poem.

Hold hands.

Dance.

Shoot the breeze.

Sing.

Stay out all night.

Make a film.

Get married.

Paint a portrait.

Stare into space.

Laugh.

Love a baby.

Write a book.

Go skinny dipping.

Fart.

Think.

Drive cross country.

Masturbate.

Go on a diet.

Tell a joke.

Kiss.

Get shot out of a cannon.

Wiggle your toes in the sand.

Rock out.

Die of cancer.

Fall head over heels in love.

Enjoy a sunset.

Babysit.

Read the funny papers.

Look a man in the eye when delivering bad news.

Climb a tree.

Play Scrabble.

Watch an episode of Law & Order that you’ve seen 3 times but you like the Lenny Briscoe character.

Go to Coney Island.

Read the handwriting on the wall.

President Obama looks like he can win reelection, but only just barely. The only thing preventing it will be his choice of Vice President. Oh, I know, I know, you’re saying to yourselves that he’s already got a perfectly serviceable Vice President in Joe Biden, affable and a bit dopey, the way we like ‘em. Only problem is, that Old Joe wants more! This born-to-be-second-banana wants to be Top Dog, and we’ve all seen the results of that last time around when Shotgun Dick Cheney staged a bloodless coup and took over America!

That’s like Larry deciding he wants to be Moe, or in Biden’s case, Curly! That just won’t do, and the Cheney Administration only highlighted this recipe for disaster. This country was not built on having talented, high-profile Vice Presidents. Quick, name 5 memorable VPs! No? Okay, how about 3? See what I mean? They just don’t register. Traditionally, the only time you hear about one is when a President dies in office and he takes over, a guy no one voted for and who no one wants to see running the show.

Look at the piss-poor record of Vice Presidents when running for President. Few make it, simply because they have spent 4 or 8 years not making a difference, relegated to we’ll-call-you-if-we-need-you status, maybe breaking a tie vote in the Senate every couple of years, and the rest of the time making speeches to 4H Clubs and attending the funerals of state leaders we didn’t like all that much.

Joe Biden was made for this minor league crap, but this Larry all of sudden wants to be a Moe and is making way too much noise for a VP! See, the problem here is that Biden has run for president himself a few times, and didn’t get very far, but that didn’t dissuade him from thinking he could be The Man. No friggin’ way! The voters told him that time and again, but this old bag of hot air refuses to read the memo.

Time for a new Larry: Yours truly! I will be more than happy to melt into the background and do very little. Hell, the salary is great, the perks even better, and a great lifetime pension too! Why ask for more? There’s a Vice Presidential Mansion with a nice pool to live in, an office with a large staff to help you do nothing, a bunch of Secret Service Agents running interference for you and and the use of Air Force 2 to travel the globe spreading good will and judging wet T-shirt contests in Brazil!

What’s not to love? Why ruin a sweet gig like this by working extra hard in a job designed for a lazy but jovial old fool? That’s me! I promise not to embarrass the American people or my President by trying to govern America. That’s what Presidents and Congress are for. I vow not to come up with any “bright ideas” that throw a monkey wrench into the President’s plans.

Any President who hires me to be his VP also gains another vital edge: assassination insurance. Even the most crazed assassin would take pause before firing the bullet that would put the likes of me in the White House! This way the President can concentrate on the hardest job on earth with out having to worry about either being shot down or having a thorn-in-his-side type of clueless VP always putting his 2¢ in or making stupid public statements.

No worries on that score with Vice President Bob Crespo. Between fact-finding missions to Scandinavia and the French Riviera, swimming in the Vice Presidential pool with my attractive young interns and showing minor visiting dignitaries a whale of a good time, I’ll have plenty enough to do without worrying about politics, or worse, actually formulating workable policies.

I will restore the office of the Vice President to the margins of American political life, a do-nothing job held down by a guy who looks good in a suit and is quick with a joke or a ringing endorsement of whatever cockamamie thing the president is up to at the moment. I’m practicing these catch phrases now: “What he said,” “It’s the best thing for the nation right now,” “I agree wholeheartedly with the president” and “Is this a great country, or what?”

I’ll smile and wink at the cameras, maybe flash the occasional “V For Victory”  finger sign, but only rarely speak out, and then only if the president asks me to. If he needs me to threaten someone, I’d do that too, Brooklyn style, so his hands will be clean when Senator so-and-so shows up at a session with a couple of black eyes and a broken thumb to cast his vote in favor of the President.

How many mob enforcers does Joe Biden know? Hah! And fugghetabout corporate lobbyists, I’d have them kneecapped and beaten within an inch of their lives (maybe even have a few whacked to send a message) and clean up D.C in no time!  Coming from Brooklyn has its advantages, and a “suggestion” to lobbyists that they “maybe you oughtta pick a healthier career” and leave Washington for good can only help lubricate the wheels of government.

So there we have it; quiet, non-interfering, fun loving and affable, yet willing to do the “little extras” to help my country (and keep my cushy job!). The choice is clear:

BOB CRESPO FOR VICE PRESIDENT IN 2012.

OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND!

The 2012 Presidential Elections are still over a year away but the Republican Candidates, both declared and otherwise, are already in our collective face, appearing everywhere and trumpeting their indignation at the current Democratic administration, and assuring us that their unique skill sets will enable them to undo the carnage of the previous Republican administration.

Fortunately for President Obama, these GOP and Tea Party Wannabe Presidents are scary crazy and thick as a fence post, every one. What the Republicans seem to have forgotten since their success with the pinheaded Bush The Younger, is that you put the wacky person as the #2 person on the ballot, the office of the Vice Presidency, where they are harmlessly out of the way, running minor state errands and shaking hands with Boy Scouts.

Which is where I come in, to address President Obama’s one weakness at the polls, the #2 man. Joe Biden has been showing signs of taking his job seriously, never a good thing in the annals of the Vice Presidency. Hell, that crazy Cheney guy took  over the country! Now Joe all of a sudden has opinions on things? That just won’t do. Mr. President, dump that croaking frog and share your ticket with me!  I’ll be so anonymous you’ll wonder if I’m even there, the way a proper Vice President behaves!

As Vice President, I will be accorded the use of the Vice Presidential Mansion (with pool!), Air Force 2 (just as cool as AF1), an extensive staff and no shortage of attractive young interns of my own choosing. I will be expected to show up in the Senate every blue moon to break a tie, fly around the world checking beach erosion in Rio and the Riviera, attend minor state functions and basically look good in a suit or tuxedo. Plus a nice salary and a chubby phat expense account! You think I’m going to screw up a sweet gig like that by getting involved in politics? No chance.

I, Bob Crespo, solemnly swear to return the Vice Presidency of the United States of America to its hallowed and time honored position; anonymous, smiling and affable! I am even willing to grow mutton chop whiskers and wear a top hat just like all those other Vice Presidents whose names you don’t know but seemed like jolly enough fellows, but not quite up to being President.  If they were baseball players, they’d have what is called “warning track power.”

But that’s just fine with me, that is all we really want from our Vice Presidents, the appearance of  normality. As long as you can master that, it doesn’t matter how loony you are, just as long as you keep it out of the papers! The real President has enough to do without worrying about a loose cannon like Biden mouthing off about something he doesn’t know a thing about because he’s out of the loop! I will stay out of the loop and make it my business not to get involved in  the business of governing!

See, that’s the problem with modern Vice Presidents: they are all picked from the bunch of candidates that the nominee just defeated, people who spent over a year trashing his policies and selling their own, so they all think they they can do a better job than their boss. I suffer no such illusions. My answer to all political questions will be: “What the President said!”

Oh, did I mention the sweet pension and the lifetime Secret Service bodyguard detail? Great seats at Yankee Stadium forever! But I digress. Today I announce my candidacy for the office of Vice President of The United States. I humbly offer my lack of services to President Obama and the nation.

BOB CRESPO FOR VICE PRESIDENT IN 2012!

OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND!

The news comes to us that the weekly crime-fighting show, “America’’s Most Wanted” has been cancelled by the FOX network and this season will be its last. After 24 seasons, 1,140 shows and 1,151 desperadoes captured, John Walsh and his crack team of narrators will be leaving a hole in our Saturday night TV viewing schedule. While Walsh and his team derive great satisfaction in helping both local and federal law-enforcement officials across the nation lock up some very dangerous human predators, there also a feeling of regret as well over some high profile offenders still at a large. Looks like America is on its own when it comes to catching these public enemies:

Johannes “Jay” Walker: From the heart of New York City, Mid-town Manhattan, Jay Walker has been brazenly flouting pedestrian rules and Don’t Walk  signs for over 2 decades! Surveillance footage from the security cameras of countless NYC skyscrapers and bodegas have captured Mr. Walker’s crimes again and again. His latest daring broad-daylight caper was a mad dash across Broadway at the height of rush hour, causing  at least one taxi to screech to a halt. As a result, its passenger spilled hot latte from Starbucks all over her Gucci ensemble and the driver to be temporarily blinded when his turban unravelled.

Joseph “Ripper” Kowalski: Hailing from Duluth Minnesota, this troubled loner has been spotted by alert eyewitnesses and caught on videotape at furniture stores and retail bedding outlets nationwide. A cunning criminal, Ripper pretends to be shopping for a new mattress when he suddenly produces a concealed pen knife and removes the labels from as many mattresses as he can, rendering them completely useless. He then shouts out “Death to Sealy!” and exits the premises before startled clerks and customers can react. Criminal profilers at the FBI theorize that he is  either a disgruntled former mattress factory employee, or that guy who just couldn’t find his “ideal sleep number.”

Freddy Ponzi: No one is exactly sure of what this guy did and didn’t do, but the Financial Meltdown of 2008 and the conviction of Bernie Madoff in a $100 billion  “Ponzi” scheme has authorities eager to talk with Freddy. They’re not buying his “unfortunate coincidence” explanations and have charged him with causing the near-collapse of entire financial system of the United States and the theft of $7 trillion dollars. His lawyer has gone on record with the lamest defense imaginable, that it was the bankers and corporate executives themselves that robbed all the money, and his client is just an innocent truck driver who’s name happens to be Ponzi. Then why is he in hiding and where did Madoff get the “Ponzi” idea?

William “Bull” O’Really: Long a cable TV broadcaster and professional blowhard, Bull O’Really has actually committed no crimes that AMW was aware of,  he just really got  on John Wash’s nerves with all his lying and phony anger, so Bull was often featured on the program for fraud in the first degree and “Aggravating Impersonation of a Journalist.”

Shotgun Dick Cheney: America’s first dictator, Shotgun Dick Cheney is charged with taking over the United States Government from language and motor skill-impaired George W. “Dumbya” Bush, lying America into a war with Iraq so he and he and Halliburton buddies could cash in to the tune of billion$, suspending the Bill of Rights, exposing a U.S. spy and stealing Top Secret American robot technology and having it installed in his own body to extend his life indefinitely.  DO NOT approach this man or attempt to apprehend him yourself, he is surrounded by lethal robot security guards and has a death laser eye!

If you see Jay Walker, Ripper Kowalski, Freddy Ponzi, Bull O’Really or Shotgun Dick, keep your distance and call 1(800) ohwaityoucan’tcallthey’vebeencancelled. (Now they really can guarantee you can remain anonymous!) THE MANHUNT STOPS NOW!

Bobcrespo.com has done it again, successfully wiretapping the latest meeting of the Al Qaeda Leadership Council, held in the conference room of a Day’s Motor Inn on the outskirts of the city of Abbotancostelloabad in Western Pakistan. The recent “firing” of long time CEO Osama bin Laden has prompted much behind-the-scenes jockeying for the top spot by several contenders, and this meeting was held to settle the issue once and for all in order to continue their ongoing mission to “kill where no man has killed before.”  The meeting was chaired by Sheik Yerbouti of Wazzuppistan.

Sheik Yerbouti: Gentlemen, this meeting is called to order. As we all know, our leader of blessed memory, Osama bin Laden, has been martyred by The Great Satan and is now enjoying his menage a’ 72 in Paradise, so it is left to us to pick a new leader. Let’s get right down to business, shall we? I nominate myself! The floor is open.

Sultan Peppah: Wait just a doggone minute, Yerbouti! Who died and made you king?

Sheik Yerbouti: Osama did! It is well known that I was Osama’s most trusted aide and his only logical successor!

Mullah Yaba Dabadu: I’ll tell you what I recall, you goat-humping old swine, that at the last meeting of the leadership council you refused the honor of taking the #2 job and forced Osama  to be his own assistant, thus dooming him!

Ayatollah Howmennee: Dabadu’s right! Allah knows that The Great Satan has been picking off our #2 men for years with their metal robot hawks! Maybe if you took the #2 job Osama would still be alive and you would be the one sleeping with the fishes!

Sheik Yerbouti: Can I help it if all our #2 men boasted of their elevation on Facebook! What ever happened to following the Book Of Corleone: “Never tell anyone outside the family what you’re thinking!”

Ayatollah Howmennee: Tell that to your Twitter following, you simpering jackal!

Sheik Yerbouti: Who would you propose to take the Blessed Martyr’s place, yourself?

Ayatollah Howmennee: I myself am unworthy, but I do nominate the eminent and bloodthirsty Ali Ali Oxenfrei, who so bravely organized the tribal warlords to resist the American military in Afghanistan. He is a man among men!

Imam Hoozya Dadyeh: That’s exactly the problem with him, he’s got more teenaged boyfriends than a Republican Senator!

Sultan Peppah: You’re point being?

Imam Hoozya Dadyeh: Allah preserve us! If 3 veiled homely wives were good enough for Martyr Osama, I say we don’t elect this drooling chicken hawk to lead us. What are we, The Village People all of a sudden?

Ayatollah Howmennee: So, you would reject centuries of established custom just because you prefer the bed of a woman? You’re no better than those infidel Tea Party buffoons who would deny gay marriage in the Great Satan!

Sheik Yerbouti: Gentlemen, gentleman, we are getting off topic here! We have come here to choose a new leader of the fight to crush the Western dogs and spread Islam to every corner of the earth.

Ayatollah Howmennee: Even Vegas?  Get real, Yerbouti, there has to be some pockets of decadent idolatry and fornication left for us to condemn, otherwise our whole reason for living would cease to exist! If you recall our last meeting, there was some unfinished business of exactly who gets to govern Las Vegas once we take over, and I graciously volunteered for this unpleasant task.

Sheik Yerbouti: Good point, Howmennee. And yes, I suppose you can have the honor of presiding over that den of sinful fornicators and condemn them to your heart’s content.

Ayatollah Howmennee: Of course one would have to extensively sample these deviant pleasures in oder to speak authoritatively on such matters…

Sheik Yerbouti: Alright already, Howmennee, we got the disturbing mental memo! Enough! If you elect me, the job is all yours.

Ayatollah Howmennee: Then I support you completely. I will be leaving soon to do some undercover research in order to prepare the way…

Sultan Peppah: Not so fast, curry breath! What about Caliph Hamman Aigz? He is a loyal Muslim and an experienced fighter!

Sheik Yerbouti: Hamman Aigz? Even we are not so dimwitted to follow a man with such a name! Our pubic relations have taken a severe enough beating already this week! Have any of you seen the latest polls? We are held in lower esteem than even Shotgun Dick Cheney!

Imam Hoosyah Dadyeh: Hold off on the vote a sec, willya, I must visit the lavatory. This rancid Pakistani lamb kebab is going through me like an express camel caravan through the Sahara!

Sheik Yerbouti: Okay, fine, Dadyeh, but make it fast, you never know when one of those robot Predator Hawks will pick up our trail. We will take a 5 minute break for refreshments.

Mullah Yaba Dabadu: What is that infernal whistling sound? Okay, who left the tea kettle boiling?

(Editor’s note: At this point there was a loud boom on our tape, then a brief silence, but luckily the microphone withstood whatever caused it.)

Imam Hoosyah Dadyeh: Okay, I’m back. Did I miss anyth…. What the fuck! Alrighty then, let us duly record this day that I, Imam Hoozyah Dadyeh of Weirdistan, will henceforth and forever be the undisputed and Supreme Leader of Al Qaeda.  Are their any objections?

The Assembled Al Qaeda Leadership Council:

Imam Hoosyah Dadyeh: Then it is unanimous! Meeting adjourned, Death to America. Taxi!

Sometimes things happen that take us by complete surprise, but shouldn’t have:

The Jersey Shore: When the runaway entertainment sensation of the year is a celebration of vulgarity, casual cruelty and blissful ignorance, we have reached a crossroads: do we pursue the crass and talent-free, or try to get back on the high road? When we started down this road of lowest common denominator television, so-called Reality Programming (created only so producers wouldn’t have to “waste” money on expensive acting talent and gifted writers and directors), it was only a matter of time before our children assumed that crude stupidity is a viable, desirable option.

The Tea Party: When 10 second sound bites replaced reading, thinking, paying attention to informed debates on important issues and forming our political opinions accordingly, did it not follow that the dumbest and most mentally lazy among us would consider themselves modern Thomas Jeffersons? Get used to inarticulate anger masquerading as policy. Lewis Carroll would be proud of the these Mad Hatters and their schizoid tea party.

Extreme Christianity: Taking a cue from unschooled Muslim rabble rousers, America’s fastest growing religion is not a religion at all, but a political movement that completely refutes the message of Jesus Christ, putting words in his mouth that he never said and fusing them with half baked jingoist political ideas, thus creating a hybrid creed called Hatriotism. (See “Tea Party,” above.)

The Financial Meltdown if 2008: Once CEOs discarded the old rule of thumb that they earn 20 to 30 times what their average workers earned and decided they were worth 400 times their average employees’ salaries while demanding huge bonuses and Golden Parachute clauses paying them a kings ransom whether they ran their companies well or straight into the ground, as sure as day follows night the focus came off producing high-quality products and services and on to stealing as much money as humanly possible by any means at their disposal. When their crimes dragged the entire world’s economy into the toilet, their wealth increased as everyone else’s decreased.

High Fructose Corn Syrup: That super sweet concoction knows as “sugar’s sugar” has found its way into thousands and thousands of processed food products, even salad dressings, sending medical science searching for a stronger term than “obese” to describe the phenomenon of the fattening up of America. Hence the term “morbidly obese.” Thanks, Giant Agribusiness! You have succeeded where mere farmers have failed, what with their antiquated obsession with producing nutritious, wholesome food.

Hessians: With America’s descent from a Republic to a world-straddling Empire, our all-volunteer army had proved inadequate to the task of conquering the entire world, prompting the Pentagon to hire high-priced mercenaries to flesh out the ranks of our military might. Professional soldiers from many different nations whose only loyalty is to the highest bidder, they are cynically called “contractors” and are subject to no law; domestic, military, foreign or international. They have proved themselves invaluable for spreading terror among occupied nations with wanton murder sprees and routine violations of the Geneva Convention. There are some jobs deemed too low for even the CIA (hard as that is to comprehend given their track record). Enter the private contractors, who come in very handy for performing their “super-dirty work,” ensuring the CIA’s inclusion in the critical striking-numb-helpless-fear-into-hearts department and cementing their place in history alongside the legendary Gestapo, KGB and NKVD. Thank you, Hessians!