The night was hot when Christy, my common-law wife and kung-fu
bodyguard, and I returned from our impromptu vacation at Cannes.
The film festival was a flop, quoted by many journalists and
cinefiles as the worst in over 30 years, and even I had to admit it
felt good to return to the muggy mess of Los Angeles.

It was a good day for the underground. After saving the world
from an Inner Circle plot involving the conclusion of the latest
“American Idol,” the Matrix and an asteroid named
Mister Rogers, I felt that it was time for a vacation.

With the conclusion of “American Idol” all but sure
to bring about the end of civilization, I decided drastic measures
would be necessary.
Rupert Murdoch’s nefarious Inner Circle was using all the
phone votes and text messages to hurtle an asteroid, named for
recently deceased public TV guru Mister Rogers, toward earth via
the FOX Broadcasting satellite.

The TV executives seemed to be getting trickier than ever, and I
thought it necessary to look up my previous college roommate and
math-whiz The Amazing Paul, currently double-majoring in computer
science & engineering and economics, for help.

We were finally in at Swastique, the overpriced hot-to-trot West
Hollywood dining spot rumored to be the home base of operations for
Rupert Murdoch’s dastardly TV Inner Circle.

On the way to posing as valets at some posh, over-pretentious
Hollywood eatery, The Anarchist, my kung-fu kitty common-law wife
Christy and I stopped off at a liquor store on North Genesee
Avenue.

The Day of Reckoning drew ever closer.
With the help of the jittery and elusive Anarchist, my
common-law wife Christy and I were getting closer to toppling
Rupert Murdoch and his Inner Circle of TV executives.

After my close call with John Tesh and Kenny G, I needed to
regroup, meet back up with Christy, and get back on the trail of
the Big 4 TV networks.

My divine quest to bring la revolucion to network television was
at an impasse.
The trail I had followed last week connecting Colin Farrell to
the Big Four’s infamous “Inner Circle” went cold.

After the media blackout at this year’s Academy Awards,
the trail for the Hollywood Unholy turned cold for Christy and
me.
So I decided to take my common-law wife/latter-day bodyguard out
for a drink.