weekend at michael's

Come on. Everyone knew. They’d pull the body out of storage, spackle in all the holes, slap on a fresh coat of paint and prop him up in front of the cameras. All the while animating him with invisible wires, voice provided by a ventriloquist. Do you really think he talked like that? He died years ago. You don’t believe me? Take a look at some recent pictures. You could see the enamel starting to chip. And every so often a piece would break off. They’d crazy glue him back together and do a few touch ups. They didn’t do a very good job though. You could see the primer bleeding through.

lie

Back in the 70’s , I like other kids was a huge David Carradine fan. But let me see if I’ve got his family’s story straight:

A secret Kung Fu society broke into his hotel room, dressed him in fish nets and women’s clothing. Then hung him with a rope around both his neck and testicles, all while keeping his feet on the floor of his closet.

I don’t get it. What was the motive? Because he was really shitty at Kung Fu? A lousy actor? Didn’t know how to match accessories? Or did he fail some test;

“Grasshopper, when you can cum on this rice paper and not leave a trace, then you will be ready.”

Sometimes it’s best to leave sleeping 70’s action stars lie.