Our favourite story this week has to be the news that Freddie Mitchell has a blog. Even better, he answers reader mail on it. Even better, he answers reader mail like this (in response to a question about that time he acted as a substitute teacher at an Indiana High School):
Kyle Garis: When you were a substitute teacher, did any kids ever hand in a test and say “I just want to thank my #2 Pencil for being so great”?
Fred Sez: Kyle, the substitute teacher thing was a big rumor … I did an appearance at the school, but my main reason for being there was to gather some valuable information on my little girls Mother’s, brother. I guess you could call it Freddie Mitchell undercover cop!
Information gathering, eh? On his little girl’s mother’s brother? I wonder what that was about. Luckily, for some very strange reason, someone transcribed the class that Freddie taught, and we managed to get our hands on it! We’re as surprised as you are. But you can read it below.
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(November 2006. High school health class at Mishawaka High School in Mishawaka, Indiana)
Teacher: Okay class, listen up. We’re in for a very special treat today. Instead of our planned lesson on sexually transmitted diseases….
Class: (snickers)
Teacher: Alright, settle down. Instead of our planned lesson, we’re going to hear from a guest speaker. And not just any guest speaker, but a former professional athlete.
Class: (murmurs of excitement)
Teacher: His name is Fred Mitchell. He’s a former NFL player, and he is here to speak to us about the importance of maintaining a healthy lifestyle. So everyone please give a warm welcome, and your undivided attention, to Mr. Mitchell. (turns to Freddie Mitchell) Mr. Mitchell, the floor is yours.
Mitchell: Hey, thanks very much, teacher lady. Hi there kids, how y’all doing today?
Class: (unenthusiastic) Fine.
Mitchell: Come on, you can do better than that. I said, “how y’all doing today”?
Class: (slightly less unenthusiastic) Fine.
Mitchell: Now we’re talking. So as your teacher said, my name is Freddie Mitchell, but you probably know me best as…(dramatic pause)…Mr. 4th and 26!
Class: (stares blankly)
Mitchell: Oh, come on now. Fred-Ex?
Class: (stares blankly)
Mitchell:What the f…y’all don’t know who Freddie Mitchell is? I thought this was supposed to be a history class!
Teacher: It’s a health class.
Mitchell: Man, whatever. Anyway, I’m also your classmate Michael’s brother-in-law.
Michael: You’re not my brother-in-law. You’re not married to my sister. She just had your baby.
Class: Ooooooohhhh.
Mitchell: Watch your tone, Michael. You know I’m going to do right by her. I just need to get my financial situation in order is all.
Teacher: Um, Mr. Mitchell?
Mitchell: Yeah?
Teacher: You…were going to talk to the students about healthy living?
Mitchell: Right, right. I’m here to tell you kids how to live right. As a professional athlete, there is nothing more important than keeping in shape, eating right, and staying away from the things in life that can really screw you up. Can you kids tell me what some of those things might be?
Student: Steroids?
Mitchell: Yeah, yeah, steroids are bad. But I’m thinking about something else.
Student: Marijuana.
Mitchell: Okay, fine. But what else?
Student: Herpes!
Class: (bursts out laughing)
Teacher: T.J.!
Mitchell: Sure, you don’t want that. But come on, you’re missing the big one.
Class: (silent)
Mitchell: Michael, how about you? Anything else you can think of?
Michael: (glares at Mitchell)
Mitchell: Maybe something you and your friends did this weekend, some time between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning?
Michael: Report you for not paying child support?
Class: (bursts out laughing)
Mitchell: THAT WAS Y….(gathers self)…I mean, no, man. I’m talking about alcohol, children. (eyes Michael suspiciously) You need to avoid taking alcohol.
Michael: (rolls eyes)
Mitchell: Because you know what happens when you do alcohol, kids? You get distracted from your day job. And when you get distracted, you become vulnerable. And when you become vulnerable, your coaches and teammates will stab you in the back, and start talking trash about you in the media, even though without you, they never would have made the playoffs, let alone the damn Super Bowl…
Teacher: Mr. Mitchell?
Mitchell: Huh? Oh yeah. Where was I?
Teacher: You were talking about how alcohol can ruin a career.
Mitchell: Yeah, right. And you know how? Because it leads to addiction! And addiction can make you do terrible things. Can anyone name one of the terrible things that addiction leads people to do?
Student: Prostitution!
Mitchell: Yeah, that’s one. But what else?
Smelly, sad-looking student: Forgetting your son’s birthday?
Mitchell: Okay, a drunk daddy might forget it’s your birthday every now and then. But something more important.
Smelly, sad-looking student: (lowers head)
Mitchell: Anyone?
Class: (silent)
Mitchell: Michael, how about you? What might addiction make an otherwise good kid do?
Michael: (glares at Freddie)
Mitchell: (eyes Michael suspiciously) What’s something else that someone might do in order to support their…
Michael: (jumps up) God damn it! I didn’t steal your vodka!
Mitchell: (angrily) Oh, so I suppose a 40-ouncer of Georgi just gets up and walks out your mom’s bedroom closet by itself then, huh? That thing cost me my last $11, Michael! I need it!
Michael: Maybe you drank it when you were already wasted on all those mini-bottles you stole from the airport.
Mitchell: Hey! Don’t you go spreading that libelous nonsense now!
Michael: I’ll say whatever I want, Freddie Bitch-ell!
Class: Ooooooohhhhhh!
Mitchell: Oh, that’s it. (rushes at Michael) You’re going to give me $11, you drink-stealing little…
Teacher: (grabs Freddie by the collar) Mr. Mitchell! Leave this classroom immediately before I call the police!
Mitchell: (fixing collar) Alright, alright. No need to get crazy now. I’m leaving. (to Michael) I’ll see you at home, young man.
Michael: Man, whatever.
Teacher: Sit down, Michael.
(Freddie walks out into hallway, dials number on cell phone)
Mitchell: Hey Derrick, it’s me. I didn’t find it yet. I’m pretty sure Diane’s punk little brother took it, but I’m going to have to do some more investigating. Anyways, we don’t have anything for the double date with those two girls from Subway tonight, so you’re going to need to swipe another case of them minis. The hell you won’t! You think Freddie Mitchell hangs out with a baggage handler for all your cool stories? Aw, come on man, I didn’t mean it like that…
Well, I think that this swine flu pandemic* has taught us all a valuable lesson: Mexicans cannot be trusted. Lou Dobbs was right all along. I know, it’s surprising, but the man has science in his corner now. Who can refute that?
However, I think that the mainstream media is ignoring the important issue coming out of this health crisis — how much would it suck if you ended up dying of something called “swine flu”? Michael Hutchence died with more dignity. It sounds like some sort of porcine AIDS. It sounds like something you get when you do something you aren’t supposed to with pigs. What if you are Muslim or Jewish? The gates of heaven are pretty well closed, I assume. If a family member died of this, I would tell people that the death was caused by a prison shivving. There is no glamour or dignity in succumbing to swine flu.
As such, we here at Food Court Lunch have come up with an alternative name. It’s edgy, exciting, proactive and bizzay!!!, but it also keeps a connection with the original name. Also, it sells well with the male 18-25 demographic, which is really important these days. Ladies and gentlemen, no more swine flu for you. We bring you the new disease of choice**: THE BACONATOR.
Now that’s dying with dignity! And dying with delicious! Alternative suggestions (or attempts to rastify the name by about 10%) can be made in the comments section.
* I cannot hear that word without shouting “PAN-DEMIC” like they did on “The Wire”. That show ruined “WMDs” for me as well.
Humiliation can come in many forms. For me, it’s mostly sexual, and I pay good money for it. High-heeled ball-stomps aren’t the value degradation that they used to be. For most other people, humiliation can be found in the mindless, soul-destroying and spirit-grinding work that they do each day in order to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. Blue collar, white collar — it doesn’t matter. Someone is treating you like shit and paying you to like it and ask for “more, please.”
However, for some companies, simple humiliation is not enough. No, they would rather kick things up to a “Carrie at the Prom” level.
Shitty work for shitty wages? Pshtttt. Anyone can get one of those jobs. But shitty work for shitty wages while being forced to make a complete ass out of yourself? Perfect.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you “Johnny Rockets” — The Original Squasher of Pride and Dreams:
This chain is new to Canada, so I can only assume that there is a rich American cultural history of humiliating minimum wage workers that the company is trying to export to other nations. All we have up north is “Licks’ Homeburgers“, and they only make some of the employees sing. Johnny Rockets? Dance, monkey, dance, and then bring me a float! I’m too fat to cook at home! I would rather have the employee spit in my food than dance for me. It’s more honest, it doesn’t happen every half an hour, and it’s over quickly. Also, I feel less nauseous thinking about spitting than I do about Filipino prison-style forced entertainment.
Who is this appealing to? Minstrel show afficionados? Fans of high school theatre? Lifelong enemies of Johnny Rockets employees? I honestly wanted to die as soon as the music level rose and the fat, sad waiters and waitresses began their zombie shuffle to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” — “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, this is what you take from me”. Am I the only one who finds this uncomfortable? Maybe it’s just me and the realization that but for a change of heart in first year university, there but for the grace of a Dramatic Arts degree go I.
Butter Chicken and I spent the last week on “sabbatical” in an undisclosed Caribbean location, locked in a week-long tender embrace (our better halves were also present, as we needed someone to hold the camera and “fluff” as needed). The excursion was technically a business trip (thanks to the extensive Food Court Lunch Travel Fund), devoted entirely to brainstorming new ideas for brilliant posts. However, after a week of diligent work, we fell a little short. Verne Troyer short. In fact, the only thing we accomplished was the construction of an elaborate beer bottle pyramid (which we subsequenly realized could not be uploaded to the internet due to inadequate technology… lazy Asians).
Nevertheless, subscribing to the adage that a picture is worth a thousand words, I did manage to get a photo of Butter in his bathing briefs:
I also came away with a number of travel lessons that I thought I would share with our readers in the hopes of improving their future excursions to foreign soil:
Never fly on an “airline” that inherited its fleet from pre-revolutionary Cuba. While the Spanish safety instructions and the bullet holes are quaint, the plantain seats are not as comfortable as you would think;
When asking directions of a “local”, don’t necessarily believe them when they tell you that your destination is “just down this alley”. Apparently, airports are not typically located down alleys. Neither are restaurants. Or police stations;
If you are looking for gang rapists, ignore tip no. 2;
There is no such thing as a wallet inspector. Or if there is, he does NOT look like this:
If you don’t understand the local dialect, do not necessarily resort to ebonics. Sometimes that just makes things worse. A lot worse;
Fried dog does NOT taste like chicken;
Don’t try to impress the locals with your knowledge of local music by repeatedly proclaiming that Ziggy Marley was the only talented member of the family;
A cockpunch is not a universally accepted form of greeting.
According to legal representatives for the HMO, the bear attack constitutes a novus actus interveniens such that the driver of the car owed no further duty of care with respect to the woman or her unborn child.
Ah, Vin Diesel. Vinny D. The “Deez”. What more can you say about the most successful bad actor of his generation? I’ll say this - the man knows how to put together an unintentionally hilarious movie trailer, one quarter-mile at a time. Remember the fake Tugg Speedman trailers at the beginning of Tropic Thunder? Do you get the feeling that, while everyone else was laughing at the “Who left the fridge open?” line, Vin was frantically searching his tanktop for a pen? Sure you do.
With an Andre the Giant-like warble and an appearance most closely resembling a Clydesdale with alopecia, the man born Mark Sinclair Vincent is both an unlikely, and unlikeable, success story. Now, you hear tales about movie stars with giant egos all the time, and they obviously have to be taken with a grain of salt. But when you go ahead and turn down $30 million to star in the Fast and the Furious sequel, only to come crawling back to do the fourth installment 6 years later, let’s just say your cries of artistic integrity, much like your washboard abs, don’t hold much water (”I was looking for a vehicle that would allow me to explore how I would react to being repeatedly shit on by a baby and bullied by a duck. So when my agent sent me the script for The Pacifier, I was all, ‘I have to do this movie…”).
If there is one thing we can’t stand, it’s excessive hubris. And if there is one thing we won’t admit to, it’s crippling jealousy. So welcome to the club, Diesel. Now do the right thing and stop stealing roles from Dwayne Johnson. The man’s got charisma to spare.
We here at Food Court Lunch have been known on occasion to poke a little fun at Frank D’Angelo. Drawing a blank? D’Angelo is the former Steelback Beer Magnate known for spending his company’s entire advertising budget on a series of cringe-inducing, self-promoting ads and infuriating football fans by interrupting Hamilton Ti-Cats games with song and dance numbers, but not before losing the CEO chair of his company to his chief investor’s 23-year-old son.
Still, we’d never stoop so low as to accuse D’Angelo of date rape if we couldn’t successfully prove it in court. But that’s just what the daughter of one of D’Angelo’s business associates recently had the audacity to do. She claimed that D’Angelo, more than twice her age, met her at a Toronto hotel for drinks and then proceeded to have sex with her in his hotel room without her consent.
The nerve! A Canadian business icon! The man with the vision to bring back Ben Johnson as a pitchman! This betrayal cannot stand!
Well, we’re happy to report that Mr. D’Angelo has been fully and completely exonerated in court. Justice John Hamilton of the Superior Court of Justice released a resounding acquittal of Mr. D’Angelo yesterday. Sure, in delivering the judgment the judge noted that Mr. D’Angelo “probably raped” the victim - but that’s just colour.
D’Angelo’s lawyer triumphantly dismissed the judge’s comments. What’s important, noted Mr. D’Angelo’s lawyer, is that Mr. D’Angelo is once again free to do as he pleases: “We’re out here on the street… and that’s what really matters.”
NOTE: We’re in a bit of a tight spot this week fellas, with most of our team out of commission for various holiday and work-related reasons. So we are reposting something from back when we started, when “No One”, as opposed to “No. One“, was reading us. So take a trip back in time with us, won’t you? All the way back to…September 2007! Say, how about that hockey lockout? Sure hope Lehman Brothers doesn’t go bankrupt a year from now!
Yes, that’ll do.
…
Hey there, fans of entertainment and entertainment-related news! Boy, have we got a treat in store for you!
Way back in the mid-1960s, a young centaur galloped out of ancient Greece and straight into the hearts of North American children everywhere…in North America. That centaur’s name was Newton, star of The Mighty Hercules, a popular cartoon that ran from 1963 to 1966 (and for over two decades more in syndication).
Known for his trademark high-pitched voice and repeating everything he said twice, Newton played Hercules’ loyal, but trouble-making, sidekick. Week after week, the red-headed rascal would stumble into some kind of prickly mess (”Look out, Herc! It’s the Hyyyyyddrrraaa!”), and it would be up to Hercules to come down off Mount Olympus and save the day.
What's Newton up to? No good, I'll bet!
When the show ended, Newton disappeared from the television scene. Most simply assumed he was dead, and moved on. Never ones to assume, we at Food Court Lunch did some digging and, wouldn’t you know it, a lucky scroll through a California phonebook revealed a listing. Fast forward two weeks and many voicemail messages later, and we had nailed down a telephone interview with the half-man himself, straight from his bachelor apartment in Burbank!
Over the course of an eleven-minute conversation, we caught up with Newton, now 52 [ed. - where does the time go?], on what’s been keeping him busy, Disney films, his ol’ pals l’il Toot and Herc, and some of those wacky rumours about the crazy times they used to have on the show!
We hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane as we proudly present, “Catching up with…Newton: Boy Centaur for the Ages!”
The obvious question is: where have you been?
Around. Working.
Oh, you’re still acting?
No, I said working. I never said acting.
Sorry, I just assumed…
Yeah, well, this may be hard for some people to believe, but 99.9% of the population does not make their living as actors.
Well then, what kind of work have you been doing?
I worked construction for a number of years, until my hind legs started to go. I’ve done some landscaping, delivered food, worked in a circus, what have you. I’m doing fine. I’m not wealthy, but I’ve been pretty smart with my money. I don’t need a lot of things.
Why did you decide to give up acting?
I don’t know if I “gave up” acting. I was a centaur with a vocal tic. The offers weren’t exactly rolling in.
Speaking of which, I notice that you don’t seem to be repeating yourself.
Well, it stopped being cute when I hit puberty, so I had to do something about it.
So how did you get rid of it?
Speech therapy. I learned to control it through deep breathing and concentrating on what I was saying. It was mainly stress-related, so it still comes back every once in a while when I get agitated.
You mentioned that you had difficulty finding work once your show went off the air.
(pauses) Is that a question?
Well, when Disney made its version of Hercules in the 90s, were you contacted?
Why would I be? Y’know, unless there was a scene involving a 45-year old, overweight, diabetic centaur that I missed.
Well, was the idea of a cameo ever discussed? Kind of a tip of the hat to fans of the old show?
No, it wasn’t. And even if it was, I doubt I would have done it. I mean, the last thing I’d want is to come across as one of those old washed up actors trying to relive the glory days. I saw Starsky and Hutch. I don’t want to slag on anybody, but Glaser and Soul should fire their agents. Pathetic.
The Harry Potter movies had centaurs.
(pauses) They did?
Yep.
Son of a…
Do you have an agent?
Are you going to ask me any questions that aren’t about why I don’t act anymore?
Okay. I’d like to ask you about your friend Toot.
Jesus. Here we go.
Do you remember where you were when you heard that he had died?
Of course I do.
Describe your reaction.
How do you think I reacted? I mean, how would you react? I was stunned.
How did you find out?
Through my agent.
When was the last time the two of you spoke?
I left him a message three months ago, but the son of a b$#@% hasn’t called me back.
I meant you and Toot.
Oh. About three years ago, I guess. We had tossed around the idea of doing a reality show together. You know, a centaur-and-a-satyr-living-in-modern-day-New-York kind of thing. We actually put together a pitch and everything. It was going to be called Newt and Toot.
Did it ever go anywhere?
No. We had some meetings, but by that time The Two Coreys was already in the works, and, you know. We didn’t want to seem like we were just ripping them off.
What was your reaction to the way Toot died?
What was my…I mean, what kind of question is that? What kind of question is that?
Well, being crushed by a speaker is an…unusual way to go.
Not if you knew Toot. Not if you knew Toot. The guy was proud. He never let his size hold him back, even when he probably should have.
Are you angry at him for the way he died?
Am I what? Jesus, who are you, my psychiatrist? Of course I’m not angry with him. I mean, do I wish like hell he would have just sucked it up and paid somebody to install the home theatre system? Yes. But am I surprised that he wanted to do it himself? Not at all. That was Toot in a nutshell.
Have you heard the recording of the 911 call?
Yes. How could I not? Those tabloid shows had it on a loop.
So do you blame 911 for his death?
No, actually, I don’t.
Do you have any issue, then, with his family’s lawsuit?
I didn’t say that. I didn’t say that. It’s just…I mean, the operator probably shouldn’t have hung up the first two times…
Their spokesperson said she assumed it was a crank call.
Right, which is understandable. If I answered the phone and someone was blasting a pan flute in my ear, I’d probably hang up too. He was tough to understand at the best of times, let alone when he was being…being suff…being suffocated…by…by a subwoofer…(goes quiet)
Newton?
…
Newton?
(sobbing) Forty-four years old, and you still couldn’t speak English? How many times did I tell you to take a lesson?
Newton?
Give me one minute, please.
Sorry.
(blows nose) Alright, go ahead. But please, ask me about something else.
Sure. Hercules.
What about him?
Do the two of you still speak?
Not really, no.
You two used to be quite close, didn’t you?
I don’t know if “close” is the right word. I was his sidekick. That’s a different kind of relationship.
In what way?
Well, to be honest, I think there was a real lack of respect thing happening there.
On his part?
Yes.
In what way?
Well, with Helena, for instance. I think he enjoyed embarrassing me in front of her. He was kind of a bully.
What would he do to embarrass you?
Stupid stuff, you know. Try to ride me, feed me hay. And I would get really upset. He would pretend he was just kidding, but you just don’t do that stuff to a centaur. We’re a proud people.
Why in front of Helena?
Why do you think? Jealousy, I’d imagine.
Hercules was jealous of you?
Don’t sound so surprised. I mean, I wasn’t built like a Greek god or anything, but I did have certain attributes that I think he was threatened by.
Such as?
Well, I am half-horse.
Point taken.
Let’s just say, for a guy that wore a tunic with no underwear all the time, he was more Icarus than Zeus, if you follow me. And I think he overcompensated. A lot.
Speaking of Helena, how do you respond to the rumours that you and Hercules were lovers, and that their relationship was a sham?
Oh, here we go. You know, I’ve heard that garbage for so long, I just tune it out now. I don’t know how it got started…
Well, the show did seem to have a lot of homosexual undertones.
(agitated) What? You tell me one thing about the show that was remotely gay.
Well, the theme song for one.
The theme song?
I have it here on tape…
“Softness in his eyes, iron in his thighs”?
Do you actually buy into that conspiracy nonsense? Honestly, it’s the same thing that the Scooby Doo guys go through with the whole “Shaggy was a pothead” junk: (mocking tone) “He was always hungry! He was always paranoid!” I mean, grow the f$%# up.
The hairless chests? The mischevious, “come hither” looks you used to throw his way?
Come hith…you know what? Enough. Are you married?
I have a girlfriend.
Well, send her over here.
She lives in Saskatchewan…
Matter of fact, you come too. I’ll show you how gay I am, and I’ll do it right in front of you. I’ll do it right in front of you.
I didn’t start the rumours. They’re all over the internet…
Oh, the internet? The…the f#$%&@$ INTERNET!?!…You know what? This is over. I don’t have any time for this…this…bulls&@%! I’m NEWTON, g#$ d$!#%&! I’ve been on LUNCHBOXES!
Don’t you think you’re overreacting. I mean, John Travolta has…
(irate) F*&% YOU! F*&% YOU WITH YOUR ‘JOHN TRAVOLTA’! You’ve been pushing my buttons this whole M*&%$@F*&%$@# time! If I was HALF the centaur I was twenty years ago, I’d come over there, bind your F$%&*#@ legs together, tie the rope to my back and drag your ass around town like a G#$ D$!# PARADE FLOAT! A G#$ D$!# PARADE FLOAT!
Alright, you’re obviously upset…
UPSET! YOU’RE G#$ D$!# RIGHT I’M UPSET! DON’T EVER F#@$%*&% CALL HERE AGAIN! CALL HERE AGAIN! CALL HERE AGAIN!…G#$ D$!#@&! (hangs up)
(Straightens tie)
There you have it, folks! Newton from The Mighty Hercules! Still alive, and still up to his old tricks. Could a comeback be far off?
We hope you enjoyed the first installment of our new “Catching up with…” feature. There are a few kinks to iron out, but check back with us next time for another trip down memory lane with one of your favourites of yesteryear! Which reminds me - is Toot available? Just kidding! TNTL!*
Occasionally, in our zeal to uncover the truth, we at Food Court Lunch make mistakes. The appropriate thing to do in such circumstances is to own up to the error and to promise to do better in the future.
(Things we were also wrong about: O.J., Love Actually, Facebook, Jamario Moon).
To recap, I fearlessly predicted that:
The Jays would finish 5th in the AL East with a record of 72-90;
J.P. Ricciardi would be fired;
B.J. Ryan’s elbow would explode; and
Jesse Litsch would go on the DL for morbid obesity
Well, based on the Jays’ performance thus far, it would appear that I may have been a tad dismissive of the Jays’ younger prospects and what appeared to be a slapdash pitching staff. A quick scan of the sports pages reveals the following:
To be fair, unlike most MLB projections, my predictions were based not on complex algorithms, but rather biorhythms. In other words, I should have eaten breakfast before writing the post.
As you might imagine, journalistic integrity is extremely important to bloggers. That’s why I’m prepared to revise my projections for the 2009 Toronto Blue Jays.
The 2009 Toronto Blue Jays will:
Finish first in the AL East with a record of 120-42;
Sweep the San Diego Padres in the World Series;
Roy Halladay, B.J. Ryan and Ricky Romero will tie for the Cy Young Award;
Travis Snider will win Rookie of the Year in both the AL and NL;
I see no reason for Spears’ people to be alarmed here. I mean, look at the picture. But don’t fixate on the eyes - those are obviously the eyes of a crazy person.
[Ed. note: We are advised that Mr. Kelly was acquitted of all charges relating to his 2001 videotaped deflowering of a 14-year-old girl by way of urination and make no allusion to the overwhelming assumption that he in fact ought to have been found guilty of said charges.]
DISCLAIMER: In the event that you are inexplicably confused by our site, this is parody (poorly executed, but parody nonetheless). For the sake of clarity, however, please note that the opinions expressed in the Comments section of this site are NOT moderated or endorsed in any way by the authors of this site, who do not understand HTML and can scarcely manage to post items themselves
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