Uncle Bardie’s World Famous School of Celebritology

BE FAMOUS FOR BEING FAMOUS

Have you wanted the red carpet thrown out for you? Do you have an inner urge to make heads spin wherever you go? Do you think that your inner Kim Kardashian hasn’t had a chance to shine? Well, guess what?

Uncle Bardie has News for you. He has decided to bring back his School of Celebritology. Over the years, there have been so many graduates, who became world class celebrities, Uncle Bardie can’t name them. If he left one out, that person might feel slighted. Besides they have confidentiality agreements. Just take Uncle Bardie’s word for it. There have been many.

QUALIFICATIONS

Do you need to be talented? Absolutely not. In fact, talent could very well be your worst enemy to becoming a successful celebrity. Do you need to be rich? No, you do not. You could very well have learned all the wrong things if you grew up rich.

So what qualifications do you need to attend Uncle Bardie’s World Famous School of Celebritology. None really. In fact, any qualification you might have could very well be a detriment.

WHAT YOU GET

All you need is fifty grand to attend. Then a degree from Uncle Bardie’s World Famous School of Celebritology will open doors. You’ll be on the late shows. You’ll be on the tabloid news. You might even make it to Saturday Night Live.

With that degree comes a Money Back Guarantee. You will get your Fifteen Minutes of Fame or you will get your money back. What you do with that fame is up to you. We can’t promise you more than your nine hundred seconds. But most of our alumni have taken their Fifteen Minutes and run with it. Only you can make it happen. But You Can Make It Happen.

COURSES

Here are some of the Courses you will take.

Paparazzi 101. Taught by Mr. Paparazzi himself.

How Not To Be Invisible 101. Taught by Mrs. Show Offy. It’s how she got her husband.

How to Make the Right Connections. Taught by Shirley Congeniality.

What To Wear And When To Wear It–And When Not Wear Anything. Taught by Lady Godiva.

How To Be The Center of Attention. (How Not To Be Invisible 201). Taught by Mister Ostentatious.

How To Appear Rich, No Matter How Poor You Are. Taught by W. More-Money-Than-God

Interview 101: How to be interviewed and say absolutely nothing. Taught by the Interview Meister.

How To Comb Your Hair In Public. Taught by Mister Comb.

How To Get “It”. Taught by It.

As you progress through these courses, you will get opportunities to meet the Famous, the Not-so Famous and the Used-to-be Famous.

Uncle Bardie’s School of Celebritology School Song

Plus you could be one of those chosen to join Uncle Bardie’s School of Celebritology Chorale. Then you will get to sing our School Song at all kinds of events and award ceremonies.

Chorus:

Join us at Uncle Bardie’s
School of Celebritology
Soon you will have a Master
Degree in Super Star-ology

1.You won’t have to be talented
You don’t have to be good
You can be trailer trash
Or an old chunk of wood

2.Anything is possible
If you think you can
Just look at Forrest Gump
And the walk that he ran

3.You don’t have to have brains
The less you have the better
Just look at the Scarecrow
He’s wearing the O-Z letters

4.You will go anywhere
And stand out in that crowd
Your fans will ooh and ahh
You will be the Big Wow.

So give us a call at Uncle Bardie’s School of Celebritology. The first one hundred to call will get a tote bag, proclaiming you as THE WORLD’S GREATEST CELEBRITY. Before you know it, there’ll be no holding you back. You’ll be celebritocious.

City Politics

There had been a rumor that The Mayor would not run for a fourth term. Like most rumor mills, there was some truth to the rumor, but mostly the gossip was fiction. The Mayor had debated with himself whether he should go for a higher office such as Governor, Senator, even President. If he could run “the City Glorious”, why not the whole darn country?

Finally he decided for a fourth run. His reasoning was that he was having way too much fun as mayor. Why give up show business? Why run for President when every Tom, Dick and Harriet would be after your rear? That didn’t sound like fun.

The morning after The Mayor’s penis appeared on the eleven o’clock news, he announced his reelection campaign. When asked about the “genital appearance,” he told reporters, “I did it for the good of the city. Tourists will realize what a fun place we are.”

He had always been a tightrope walker, but this time he didn’t have a net. Now he was caught in a compromising position. His staff thought that the voters were not going to be happy about the whole thing.

“How could you show that thing on TV,” Mrs. Bartok, a teacher at a local elementary school, asked the newsroom, madder at the television station for showing it than at The Mayor for making the “appearance.”

When asked, the President of the Chamber of Commerce commented, “The Mayor’s only doing what comes naturally. Besides it’s good for business and it’s good for the image of the city.”

The night before the news broke, The Mayor had been in tough negotiations with the garbage people. During a particularly difficult part of the session, The Mayor needed to take a leak. He called a recess, urged all heads to cool off, while he went to the head. Then he made a dash down the hall to the men’s room because he had to go real bad. Twinkie Twinkler, a local tv reporter, followed, on the hunt for a story

For seven long years, Twinkie served in the journalistic wilderness. She put in her time as the perky weather girl. But she had ambition. She wanted to be an anchor. She spent months cajoling, begging the news editor to let her do some reporting, any reporting.

Finally he broke down and said, “Yes, as long as you continue to do the weather forecasts.” What could it hurt? the editor thought. I get both a perky weather girl and a news reporter. Just to be on the safe side, he assigned her to the city hall beat. Lots of boredom and no glory. He underestimated Twinkie.

When Twinkie told all her friends, they commented on The Mayor’s larger than life personality. He ran city hall like it was his own private fiefdom.

“That shrimp,” Twinkie said, unafraid. “He’s short and skinny and bald.”

“Yes,” her friend Norah said, “but he’s such a womanizer, except with his wife. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. So you watch yourself, kid.”

Now here she stood outside the men’s room. She needed a story to help her with her career. That’s when it came to her. Like a bolt of lightning. “I’ll get my story.” She walked through the men’s room door and saw The Mayor before one of the urinals.

“Mayor, can you give me a comment about the negotiations?”

When The Mayor turned around, Twinkie’s eyes became large moons. What Twinkie saw was unbelievable. So unbelievable she grabbed her smart phone from her purse, aimed its camera and clicked a pic. Just to be on the safe side, she took several clicks.

The Mayor was always a man who acted well under pressure. He hadn’t gotten where he was by backing down when confronted with what he would later refer to as “an interesting situation.”

“Well, my dear,” The Mayor said, standing there with his flag run up full mast. “I’m always glad to share a little of my charismatic personality with the local media.”

The pictures appeared on the eleven o’clock news. The phones started to ring off the wall around the town. His honor had done it again. Everybody was telling everybody else what they’d seen. “Can you believe it?” they asked.

The next day one of the city commissioners approached the city manager, “Do you think we could sell them? The pictures, I mean.”

“Maybe,” the city manager said, “we could use the money to pay off the budget deficit. At least it would keep the public’s mind off all the money we’ve stolen. I mean, wasted.”

The Mayor, who had always been popular, soon found his poll numbers going from 75% to 90%. The public loved him even more than they had before. It gave the city’s nickname “The City Gorgeous” a real meaning. A local amusement park even developed a Weiner Ride in honor of His Honor. The owner of the local minor league baseball team changed the name of his team from the Hot Dogs to the Hot Weiners.

All this was to say that it looked like The Mayor was going to be a shoo-in. Until he shot his wife.

Actually she shot at him first and missed. In the City Gorgeous it was to become known as the Shootout at the OK Corral, the OK Corral being the local watering hole for all the big fishes in the little pond.

When Mrs. Mayor thought about what she had seen on the news, she became angrier and angrier. Her anger started getting angry. She arrived at the OK around six the next night and she was totting. In her purse, she had a magnum the size of the thing The Mayor carried in his pants. Over in the corner, The Mayor squeezed one of his female constituents’ buttocks. He figured why not. Anything to keep the voters happy.

Mrs. Mayor pulled the gun from her purse and aimed. Then she said, “I haven’t seen that thang in a month of Sundays. Now here you are, showing it on TV. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m The Mayor.”

Mrs. Mayor fired, not once, not twice, but three times. Unfortunately she couldn’t hit the side of a barn. She was near-sighted. She missed The Mayor and hit his constituent in the bottom. It was not a pretty sight. It is never a pretty sight to see a bottom bleed all over the place.

The Mayor, being the opportunist he was, saw the opportunity he had been waiting for. A way to rid himself of a wife, who was no longer the entertainment she had once been, and get away with it. For a very long time, he had the hankerings for his secretary, Willow Pussywillow.

The Mayor pulled out the .45 he carried in the concealed weapon department and shot her corpus dilecti. Mrs. Mayor fell over dead. And not just dead. She was as dead as a corpse in a coffin six foot under.

Now the citizens of the City Gorgeous were a very tolerant people. Sure, The Mayor had no legal recourse but to stand his ground. It was a sure thing that he would get off scot free. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that the standoff would hurt the tourist trade. When the story broke on the national news, people cancelled their tickets to paradise by the bushel load.

There was only one thing to do. Fire The Mayor, arrest him and throw him in jail for exposing his weapon in public. And that was exactly what happened. As they say in the news biz, it was Bye Bye, Miss American Pie for The Mayor.