Goodnight, Moon to Become Reality Show

The colorful cast of Margaret Wise Brown’s famed Goodnight Moon has agreed to do a reality show of the same name. As the book celebrates its 64^th anniversary, the show hopes to pull in readers young and old, nostalgic types and just really bored people. 

We caught up with some of the aging cast in the green room of the Great Green Room to get their thoughts on the project, and found that time had not been kind to all.

Red Balloon, looking more like a shriveled pink kidney, said, “Doing the book was a life highlight for me. Most balloons just get popped.”

It wasn’t such a lovefest for the entire cast, though. Comb and Brush haven’t spoken in decades. And the in-room romance between Socks and Mittens fizzled with a rejected marriage proposal.

“I guess she got cold feet,” Socks said, with no sense of irony. 

Bowl Full of Mush, looking pale and unappetizing as ever, said only this: “Eat me.”

Two Little Kittens (real names Arty and Marty) are now two nearly immobile mounds of matted fur and eye crust, the hefty toll of childhood fame and readily available catnip. 

As we chatted, Young Mouse hobbled right past them and gave them the bird. Marty farted.

Sad. The years have been gentler to others. Clocks, an ageless wonder, vowed to set the record straight: “People say I’ve had work done. That really winds me up, grinds my gears, you know? This is my original face!”

Noises Everywhere said, “Ahahahahahahahhhhhh.Brrraaaaaahhhhhhaaabrahahabaa.”

Quiet Old Lady Whispering Hush, still old, still quiet, offered some perspective: “Shhhh.”

Moon said, “Can somebody please get this cow off me?”

Should be fun. Shooting starts next week. If all goes well, producers are already auditioning cast members for the long-awaited sequel, Good Morning Sun.

Boy's First Haircut Goes Horribly Awry

A young Chicago boy known as Bub faces inevitable derision and untold ridicule after his first haircut left him mirroring a tropical fruit.

“He looks like a pineapple,” one insider said plainly. “A ripe one.” This was recently confirmed by photographic evidence.

“I just tried to take a little off the top,” Daddy said. “But you know how it is, you go a little uneven on one side, then you have to shorten the other side to match. It’s like a zero-sum game.”

“I begged him stop, but he just kept cutting,” Bub said. “He was like, ‘The chicks are gonna dig this, Bub.’ ‘This is way awesomer than the Bieber, Bub. We’ll call it The Bubber.’ Just ridiculous blather. NOW LOOK AT ME!!!”

When shown a picture of ‘The Bubber,’ Daddy said, “Hey, that baby looks like a pineapple.” When told it was in fact his son, he added, “Looks good.”

“I realize this look might be a little fashion-forward for some,” Daddy later said in a statement. “But hey, listen, you can play it safe, give your kid a crew-cut, sure. Or you can exercise your creativity and invent. That’s always been my M.O. as a stylist. So sue me for having vision.”

Having absolutely no background in styling and not even hair of his own on which to practice, critics were quick to call fraud.

“It looks like he used a pair of 2^nd grade safety scissors. Left-handed ones. It’s a train wreck,” an anonymous stylist said, adding, “Nothing against pineapples, though. I loved them as a youth.”

The boy’s mother, Mommy, said it wasn’t exactly how she would have cut it, but it’s growing on her.

“I did almost add him to my parfait this morning, though,” she said. “I guess we’re all still getting used to it.” 

Shortly after the picture went viral, Dole contacted the family with a potential TV spot, which Daddy was quick to accept.

“Yes, I’ve seen the teleplay,” Bub said. “It involves wearing a lei and dancing to Mele Kalikimaka. In a word—humiliating.”  

“I don’t know what Bub’s so salty about,” Daddy said. “I gave him an image, and all he does is cry about it. It’s like Dee Snider or Hulk Hogan or Mr. T, right? It’s branding. Those guys can never go back to what they used to look like. They’re stuck with it. It’s become them. It is them. And they’re crying all the way to the bank. The pineapple will become Bub in time. You’re welcome, buddy.”

The commercial begins shooting next week.

In a related story, a disoriented Spongebob Squarepants showed up late last night at Bub and couldn’t figure out why his front door wouldn’t open.

Swiper the Fox Announces Retirement

Swiper the Fox, Dora the Explorer’s scheming nemesis, has announced his retirement suddenly, citing “irreconcilable apathy.”

“I just don’t have it in me anymore,” a downtrodden Swiper said, reading a prepared statement. “I’ve lost any desire I ever had to swipe. Imagine a ball that doesn’t want to bounce anymore. I am that ball.”

We caught up with him sipping a 40 of King Cobra and asked what his motivation for swiping all those useless trinkets was in the first place.

“I mean, my name is Swiper,” he hiccuped. Then he clarified, “Duhhh.”

Swiper’s announcement comes on the heels of yet another failed swiping, bringing his career record to 0-568. On this particular occasion, he attempted to nab a bent tire rim from Dora and Boots, but was thwarted with the all-too-familiar refrain “Swiper, no swiping!”

“That shit is like kryptonite, yo!” he said.

Faced with that crusher, Swiper snapped his fingers for the last time; critics say even his trademark ‘Oh, maaaaaaaaan!’ was limp.

“It really felt like he was just phoning it in,” said Map afterwards. “Even his snap was, how shall I say this…like a dying goldfish flopping on a wad of Silly Putty. Say it with me—snap, goldfish, Silly Putty. Snap, goldfish, Silly Putty. Snap, goldfish, Silly Putty.”

Through her agent, Dora issued the following statement in Spanglish: “Explorers todo el mundo lost an explorer my bueno today. Swiper will be missed by de todos nosotros.”

Well, not quite all, it seems. Backpack had feuded for years behind the scenes with Swiper, ever since Swiper allegedly got drunk and attempted to swipe it.

“Good riddance,” Backpack said. “I mean, yes, the creep tried to swipe me. You don’t get over that. 

“But personal issues aside, let’s be honest—the guy just sucked at his job. Even on the rare occasions he did manage to swipe something, he just tossed it aside for us to find later. I don’t think that counts.”

“Yeah, when you view it from a certain perspective, he was about as useless as a NASCAR sidewalk,” Boots added. “Nice dude, just totally and continuously inept at his craft. Kind of like Rick Astley.”

Despite the personal digs and the epic failure that amounted to his career, Swiper says he wouldn’t have done it any other way. 

“Hey man, haters can hate, but I was a bandit for a living, bitches!” Swiper said, dribbling malt liquor down his whiskers. “Can you say that? Nope, me and motherfuckin’ Burt Reynolds!”

His abrupt retirement put producers on the hotseat to introduce a new Darth to their little Luke. A spokesperson wanted to assure fans that Swiper will be replaced:

“We’ve been auditioning some really great talent today: Grabber the Opossum, Nabber the Mouse. I just had a read-through with Filcher the Cat. So you see, while Swiper was certainly an original, he’s not irreplaceable.”

Asked if there was anything else he wanted to add, Swiper said, “Yeah, I just want to say big ups to all my fans out there for the love and support. No love, no glove, if you know what I mean. Peace. I’m out.”

He was apparently referencing an eBay auction for ‘Swiper’s Official Awesome Swiping Gloves—Autographed!!!’ With just over two days left, the current bid was $2.75, though the reserve price had not yet been met.

Boy Eats Blueberries, Remembers Own Birth

In a huge victory for the floundering purple fruit community, a one year-old boy in Chicago has remembered his own birth after a steady diet of blueberries.

“It was terrible,” the boy known as Bub said. “Imagine the deepest slumber you’ve ever known, dreams of red velvet and tropical breeze. Then turn on the sun and park a dump truck inside your head. And then it’s pretty much like trying to stuff a fully inflated balloon into a pillbox.”

Childbirth--miserable for parents, miserable for newborns. Shocking, indeed. Science today also revealed that concrete is, in fact, very hard. 

In a recent study, a gaggle of septuagenarians were given a memory test, then juiced up on blueberries for 12 weeks and given the test again; their scores went up 20%. But nobody thought to give them to a baby, until now.

“Better than acid. It’s like Total Recall and shit,” said Daddy, fidgety, his fingernails a deep violet. “You don’t have like an extra pint on you, do you?” 

“The secret is anthocyanins,” said Dr. Hugenerd. “These polyphenols have been shown to reduce memory loss and possibly even stop it before it starts.”

In a related story, a lab technician in Missoula, Montana semi-lost his virginity last night following a particularly vigorous lap dance.

“Blueberries are basically the new gingko biloba,” Hugenerd added.

In an ironic blow to Chinese imports, it seems no one can remember what gingko biloba is. However, a recent survey showed that one in three Americans believed it to be a ninja’s mysterious cloak of invisibility.

Blueberries, of course, date back to Roman orgy times. The CIA used them surreptitiously for decades during its lesser-documented Purple War, but they fell out of mainstream favor in the early 1970s, when hippies started remembering the dumb shit they had done.

Baby Requests DNA of Self

In yet another odd twist in an already bizarre case, the baby known only as Bub (now 11 months) has now taken his case to the molecular level by requesting his own DNA.

“The longer I am alive, the clearer it becomes,” Bub said, through a lawyer-issued statement. “I am a switchbirth baby. When you look at all the evidence, it’s clear that I am simply a more evolved being than Daddy. To suggest I am of his seed is illogical, hurtful, and an insult to Darwinism. It would be like suggesting a Vienna sausage begat a grass-fed Argentinian ribeye. Or a gatling gun had a wooden spear baby.”

When confronted with this statement, Daddy said, “Mmmm. Vienna sausages.”

The battle began several months ago when Bub made national headlines by suing his parents for custody of himself, citing numerous parental infractions and oversights.

“Things at home have only deteriorated,” Bub also stated. “Relationships have frayed.”

When asked to clarify, Bub said only, “Hmm, I don’t know how to be tactful about this. Let’s just say that ever since the restraining order incident, he’s been short-wiping me.”

Bub filed for the restraining order, but a judge threw it out on the grounds that Daddy’s presence was still required for diaper changings, feedings, etc. Daddy immediately counter-filed for a restraining order against Bub.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner!” Daddy said. His bliss was short-lived, however, as his attempt at dissolution was shot down by the same judge.

“Can’t blame a Daddy for trying,” Daddy said. Actually, quite a few people did. Protestors stood on his front lawn during this interview, holding signs that read, among other things, ‘Free Baby Bub’ and ‘Daddy Eats It.’ Although mostly peaceful, the occasional breast milk balloon came dangerously close to the porch. Aside from several NC-17 tirades and the occasional threat of charging with an icepick, squash racquet or a brick of frozen tempeh, Daddy took it pretty well.

“Yeah, tough to be a big, independent baby when you can’t stop shitting your pants,” he said. “It’s like he’s got the Ferrari, but he can’t reach the pedals. He needs me. I’m the pedal-pusher. I’m the only friend he’s got.”

“Let me put it this way,” Bub responded in a statement to that statement. “If I were to physically write a dictionary and then you were to open said dictionary and look under the word ‘friend’, not only would you not find a picture of Daddy, you wouldn’t find him under any derivation, conjugation, synonym, root word or any other historical etymological reference ever. I’m sorry Daddy, there’s just no vacancy at my friend hotel.”

When asked who he thought his real Daddy might be, Bub thought for a minute.

“Possibly Alex Rodriguez. This is what I intend to get to the bottom of. And if the judge doesn’t see it my way," he smiled, "there’s always Jerry Springer, bitches.”

An Open Letter to Hamburger

Dear Mr. Hamburger:

I hope it’s okay that I address you as Mr. ‘Sir’ seemed a bit stuffy, though I am told that your juiciness alone could potentially warrant knighthood.

Let me start by saying that I have heard many good things about you. Gushing, really. Anytime you are in the conversation, words like “savory” and “delicious” are frequently applied. I myself have never experienced anything that fits that description, so let’s just say I’m intrigued. Call me epicurious.

A little about me: I’m 11 months, blue eyes, hate hats, love mango. I recently came into contact with something called a kiwi; if you have the means, I highly suggest picking one up.

Now I realize that some might consider my complete lack of teeth an impediment to our relationship, but I like to see it as more of a “challenge.” And believe me friend (can I call you friend?), I am ready to step up to that challenge.

Therefore I’d like to humbly request a proper introduction between you and my belly. I presume my mouth will be an acceptable facilitator for this rendezvous? I can insert you directly by myself, assuming you are broken into manageable pieces. I can have one of my benefactors arrange this, as my fine motor skills only extend so far, you understand.

So when would be a good time for you? The best times for me are normally between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. I normally succumb to the Sandman, I’m afraid, between 11 and 12 and then again between 3 and 4. But any other time within that window would be most satisfactory.

But I have another favor to ask, if I might. Perhaps I am getting ahead of my little self a bit, but can I ask your opinion of Mr. Tofu? I can only assume the two of you do not see eye to eye; cordial rivals at best. Indeed I’ve been introduced to him on a number of hapless occasions, and every time he has succeeded in offending my sensibilities. He worms his way into my oatmeal, interfaces with my sweet potato and violates my sweet mango. This is simply unacceptable; I’m afraid our only recourse can be total annihilation. Down with this soy-based oppressor! Meat is neat! Are you with me, Mr. Burger?

Do think it over, won’t you? If we can’t work together professionally, so be it. But I look ever so forward to our gastronomical marriage, at your earliest convenience.

Deepest respect,

Master Bub

Stranger Than Fiction

So if you've been following the action here on MVB, you know that last week Bub filed suit against me for custody of himself. I, in turn, countersued him for being annoying. Tit for tat, I say, and we'll let the chips fall where they may at this point. My lawyer (me) says I can't really say much more about the pending cases. 

So...instead I'm gonna talk about this case, which rivals the drama Bub and I are embroiled in. Did anyone else see this story today? All I'll say for now is wow, then I'll really rip into these two little brats at the end. Have a quick read and we'll discuss.

Illinois Mom Kimberly Garrity Wins 'Bad Mom' Case Over Her Kids

  

By CANDACE SMITH

Aug. 30, 2011

Illinois mom Kimberly Garrity today applauded a
court ruling that threw out a lawsuit by her two
children who had sued her for allegedly being a bad
mom.

"We are very pleased with the court's decision," said
Shelley Smith, Garrity's attorney.

In court papers, Smith called the complaint a "litany of
childish complaints and ingratitude."

Garrity, 55, battled her kids Steven Miner, 23, and
Kathryn Miner, 20, for two years. The children sought
$50,000 for emotional distress stemming from the
damage of her supposed bad mothering.

The case was originally tossed by a Cook County
circuit court, but the kids appealed. Last week, an
Illinois appellate court also dismissed it.

Raised in a $1.5 million home by their father, the
children alleged the Garrity was a lousy mom because
she failed to send money for birthdays, called her
daughter home early from homecoming, and
threatened to call the police on her son, then 7, if he
didn't buckle up in the car.

Steven also accused his mother of once smacking him
on the head, saying that he still suffers from
headaches. One of the exhibits in the case included a
birthday card that Steven called "inappropriate"
because it failed to include cash or a check.

The card did include the inscription, "Son I got you
this Birthday card because it's just like you ? different
from all the rest!" On the inside Garrity wrote, "Have a
great day! Love & Hugs, Mom xoxoxo," according to
court documents cited by the Chicago Tribune.

When contacted by ABC News, Kathryn Miner said, "I
have no comment."

In its ruling, the appellate court said that it found that
none of Garrity's behavior could be ruled "extreme or
outrageous."

"Such alleged actions are unpleasant and perhaps
insensitive, and some would arguably fall outside the
realm of 'good mothering,' but they are not so
shocking as to form a basis for a claim for intentional
infliction of emotional distress," the court ruled.

The children's lawyer was Garrity's ex-husband and
the children's father Steven Miner. Garrity's lawyer
wrote in court papers that the lawsuit was an attempt
by Steven Miner to "seek the ultimate revenge" of
having her children accuse her of "being an
inadequate mother."

Miner and Garrity were married and then divorced in
1995, records show.

Miner did not immediately respond to messages left
by ABC News, but said in court papers that he filed
the lawsuit after much legal research and had tried to
dissuade his children from bringing the case. He
compared this case to one of a patient suing a doctor.

Bruce Ottley, a law professor at DePaul University and
author of Illinois Tort Law, said the circuit court w
hich first heard the case was right in throwing it
out. "Illinois law is so clear on this. You have to
prove extreme and outrageous conduct and that's not
what this is," said Ottley.

"This is just me surmising, but this looks more like
the husband trying to get back at his wife. It doesn't
look like an impartial lawsuit," Ottley said.

In spite of the suit, the Tribune reports that Garrity, in
court filings, said that she still loved her children.

Where do you start with this one? I mean, first of all, their DAD is their lawyer, how about there? I also think "still suffers from headaches" from his mom whoop-slapping him is hilarious. That's like saying Bill Clinton is still stoned from that hit he took in college. 

In other news today, tofu was sued for being "bland."

Another complaint was they didn't get care packages in college. Really, dipshits? You grow up in a $1.5 million dollar home and you're pissed that your box of gummy bears and Rice Krispy Treats never showed up? Hey, why don't YOU try sending some rice to Somalia, jerkweed?

Man, I'd love to be a fly on the turkey at that Thanksgiving table this year. Am I alone here? Comments, thoughts and especially rants encouraged.

P.S. Don't get any ideas, Bub.