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!”

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!

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!

It’s that time again, Ladies and Gents! The Answer  Man is back, and he’s here for you. You ask a question, Answer man answers it! What could be simpler? Remember, you must ask a question or I cannot help you. Lets see what’s in the Inbox, shall we?

Dear Answer Man: You’re a bit of a horse’s ass, aren’t you? – Heywood Djablomi

Dear Heywood Djablomi: Yes, yes I am, but at least my name isn’t Heywood Djablomi! Next!

Dear Answer Man: What’s the difference between genius and stupidity? – Al Dante

Dear Al Dante: Genius has its limits. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Is it true that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?  -Freida Peebles

Dear Freida Peebles: Not true at all, Freida! Food and sleep deprivation combined with a cattle prod are marvelous motivational tools, even for old dogs who are “set in their ways.” Next!

Dear Answer Man: That’s just sick! -Freida Peebles

Dear Freida Peebles: I’m sorry Freida, but you didn’t put this in the form of  question so The Answer Man can’t help you. Next!

Dear Answer Man: How can you give that lady such unethical advice? – Ben Dover

Dear Ben Dover: I’m sorry, but did you see anything about ethics or advice in Ms. Peebles’ question? I sure didn’t. She merely asked if it was possible and I informed her that indeed it was. What she does with that information is her business. Next!

Dear Answer Man: What’s the best sport of these 3: curling, golf or bowling? – Joe Sports.

Dear Joe Sports: You can’t fool The Answer Man with trick questions, Joe! None of these are sports, but games. Anything that can be mastered by out-of-shape fat guys cannot be considered a sport. Might as well call Poker a sport too if you think those qualify. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Does everyone really love Raymond? – Bud Leicht

Dear Bud Leicht: Definitely not. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Where do birds go during the winter? – Harry Lewis

Dear Harry Lewis: Boca. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Is Glen Beck right about President Obama being the Nazi Antichrist who has been sent to destroy the earth? – Howie Doone

Dear Howie Doone: The next time Glen Beck is right about anything at all will be the first time, so the answer is no. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Can Donald Trump really become president? – Ophelia Mound

Dear Ophelia Mound: President of what? He’s already president of The Trump Organization. Next!

Dear Answer Man: I meant the United States! – Ophelia Mound

Dear Ophelia Mound: Sorry, Ophelia, but there’s no question here. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Yo, my man, I think she was asking if Donald Trump can ever be the President of The Untied States. -Lyle Eikarug

Dear Lyle Eikarug: Then why didn’t she just say so? Trump for President of the USA… geez! Where do you people get this stuff? Next!

Dear Answer Man: What causes the Aurora Borealis? I think it is beautiful, like nature’s own magic light show. – Jack Hoff

Dear Jack Hoff: Beautiful it certainly is, Jack Hoff, but not magic. Here’s what causes it: Massive amounts of electrons are emitted from the Sun and carried on the solar wind. The aurora is produced when these electrons, attracted by the magnetism at the Earth’s poles, slams into the atmosphere. When the electrons collide with the oxygen and nitrogen atoms, the atoms are ionized, and this ionization causes the atoms to become excited and emit photons of light. Different auroral colors are produced depending on the kind of atom involved with the collision. Oxygen generally produces shades of colors ranging from green to brown, and nitrogen produces shades of red or blue. Auroras are more often seen during the intense phase of the Sun’s cycles. These increase the solar winds that are responsible for the creation of the auroras. (And you people thought I only go for the low hanging fruit! Hey, The Answer Man is only as good as your questions.) Next!

Dear Answer Man: What is the one true religion? – Benedict from Rome

Dear Benedict from Rome: According to their creeds, that would be all of them. Next!

Dear Answer Man: That’s no answer! How can you say that? – Benedict from Rome

Dear Benedict from Rome: That’s why they’re called faiths and not facts, Benny. Enjoy yours and be happy. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Why do guys like bankers and CEO’s of giant corporations steal when they’re already really really rich? – Bill Melaighter

Dear Bill Melaighter: Because they really really can and we really really let them. Next!

Dear Answer Man: Is nuclear power really as dangerous as everyone is saying it is lately? – Cashen Carey

Dear Cashen Carey: When a country gets hit by a giant earthquake and a monstrous tsunami on the same day and finds out that those were the least of their problems, you have to check the ☑YES box on this one. Next!

Dear Answer Man: What can I do to get people to notice me? – Walt Flowers

Dear Walt Flowers: I’m sorry, were you saying something? I wasn’t paying attention. Must be time for me to go. The Answer Man is outta here!

Here at bobcrespo.com we’re all about the public service, and today’s public service is we are not going to talk about the news or some unbelievably horrifying event that may unfolding as we speak. Enough already, we’re numb! There needs to be a place where you, gentle reader, can apply the blissful balm of benevolence upon your wounded psyche and find a restorative refuge from the cacophonous cruelty of a world gone mad. Well, this isn’t that place, but here we are, so now what? Here’s an idea!: Instead of the repetitious litany of disaster, death and corruption bombarding us daily, how about a list of things you don’t often hear in real life? Let’s try these:

What were Marcel Marceau’s last gestures?

The Force, it is strong in this one.

Anything interesting happening in Japan lately?

You know, Mildred, this Glen Beck fellow makes a lot of sense, and he’s one calm, level-headed son of a gun too!

That’s a lovely apron you’re wearing, Mrs. Cleaver.

Why, thank you, Eddie!

Mission accomplished.

Jared Laughner was a wonderful boy with just the sweetest face! Who knew?

I’m willing to sell my children’s civil liberties and my nation’s human rights to be safe from terrorism right now.

We don’t need to carry loaded weapons to Tea Party rallies to make our point, we’re articulate and persuasive!

Boy, these vegetables I bought in the supermarket taste like they’re right from the garden!

Who in heaven’s name is Snooki?

Discussing acting techniques on both small and large screens, today’s guest on Theater Talk will be: Charlie Sheen!

Look for the union label.

So, the question you gotta ask yourself is, am I feeling lucky today? Well, are you feeling lucky, punk?

Hey, the Middle East’s been kinda quiet, huh?

I like Ike.

I am the God of Hellfire!

Hope things change.

It says right there in the Gospels over and over and over that Jesus was against war, hatred, cruelty and intolerance, which means Christian must practice, peace, love, kindness and understanding, even when inconvenient.

Nuclear Power – Clean, safe, efficient!

The Mayan nation is preparing to welcome the End of Times in 2012. No, wait, they’re all dead. Seems the world ended for Maya long ago. Okay, scratch this entry…

Martha from Spokane, you’re on the air with Larry King!

Jay Leno would never stab anyone in the back!

Visit beautiful Port Au Prince, Haiti, Jewel of the Caribbean!

If you can’t trust your banker, who can you trust?

Blessed are the poor.

I wonder what a dress made of raw meat would look like?

Peace with honor.

This Mets team looks like it could go all the way this year.

Boy, this American Idol winner is going to be a huge star!

Do you have a license for that monkey?

How can you really get to know a product from 60-second ads? Thank God for infomercials!

Osama bin Laden’s days are numbered!

Nothing says “give democracy a chance” like a tomahawk missile!

The Great Society.

Prosperity is right around the corner!

How do those Republicans come up with so many innovative ideas and fair, thoughtful solutions?

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

I’LL BE PLAYING WITH MY OLD BROTHERS IN ARMS, THE TASH BROTHERS BAND, THIS FRIDAY, MARCH 18th 10:30 PM, IN BAYONNE, (30 MINUTES FROM BROOKLYN) TO REMEMBER OUR BASSIST HUGHIE BOYLE, TAKEN FROM ROCK&ROLL TOO SOON. COME SEE US BURN DOWN THE HOUSE FOR HUGHIE! 5 ANGRY BANDS!

ABBEY’S TOO 456 Avenue C, Bayonne, NJ, 07002-5106 · Get Directions: (201) 436-9800