It’s Comic-Con time, and the folks at Legend Films are busily prepping our own Mike Nelson for his appearance at the Rifftrax/Legend Films Booth, and of course for Rifftrax Live Saturday at the gorgeous Balboa Theater. It’s no easy task – Mike has been broken down into his component parts, shrink-wrapped and packed into seventeen boxes ready to be reassembled on the Convention Center floor.

It takes six skilled technicians to move Mike, who is as delicate as an antique spinet. So when you see Mike, remember his hard-working crew, without whom Mike would simply be a random collection of body parts in seventeen boxes.

*****

UPDATE by Bill: As the Michael J. Nelson 3709-Z is shipped to Comic-Con, I’m busy working on my many, MANY costumes for this weekend’s fun.

Now, the man below is a professional model, so obviously anything would look better on him than me. But expect me to show up in this little number for our 7:00 PM live show…

What about the 9:30 show, many of you are asking? That’s when I really go crazy. (And I’m tame compared to Kevin “Slave Leia” Murphy.)

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m actor/vegetable Nick Notcolli. I invite you to eat me. Remember, I’m part of your healthy diet, which consists entirely of you eating me. I hope you have a big appetite.

**

BILL adds: Bravo, Kevin. Your beer has been well and truly earned. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going off to scream for a while, followed by some throwing up… then another hour or two of light screaming.

Of course it’s me on the left. And yes, “Desperado” was our song. The relationship didn’t last; I can’t be sure, but I think she wanted to hurt me.

It started as a lark, a curiosity really; last Saturday morning when I was preparing to cook some lovely bacon, our pup Boomer began barking furiously as he does when he spots a squirrel or a guy from Clean Water Action. But the moment got more curious when my spouse Jane called from the other end of the house, “Kevin, is that a bear?!” I ran to see what the hell she was referring to, but too late. Ever on the ball, though, Jane managed to snap a picture of the event:

It would not be uncommon to spot a bear in this neck of the woods, though very rare, especially one so mangy-looking and shy. But now here’s the odd part: When I returned to the kitchen, the bacon I was preparing to cook was gone. I assumed I’d misplaced it, because I’m always misplacing bacon, putting it in my coat pocket or folding it into my wallet for later, then forgetting. But this was special bacon, the excellent Theilen bacon made up Pierz way, the stuff that I couldn’t find after one of Martha Stewart’s assistants declared it delicious. I wouldn’t misplace Theilen bacon, it’s too thick to fit in the wallet. It was gone.

Then this morning, I read Bill’s disturbing post. A chill went up my neck and I raced for the phone. No answer at the Corbetts. He’d told me he was spending the week back east with family, but I had my doubts. The the final item hit me like a pork quarter tossed at me by a hog-cutter: A news bulletin about Paul Prudhomme, master Cajun chef and inveterate bacon lover, who was shot. Shot with a.22 slug from a gun never found. Shot, allegedly, while cooking bacon.

Chef Paul was merely grazed, thank God, but suddenly it all came together, like the strands of fat as they entwine with the rich belly meat in my purloined Theilen’s. I still can’t bring myself to say it. I still don’t know what to do. I take solace in my only remaining box of maple-bacon lollipops.

Pray for our friend Bill, please. Bring him back to us, and to bacon. I urge children and dogs everywhere to bend a knee.

Don’t let this happen to you. If you or someone you love is obsessed with Joey Pants, visit www.obsessedwithpants.com*.

And take your life back. Thank you. I’m Jimmy Smits.

*Web site may not exist.

In our continuing efforts to provide you with fresh silliness delivered promptly, I will be delighted to answer the first twenty-five questions submitted in the handy “Comments” below. I’ll only edit out questions that have been answered several times before here and elsewhere, so I encourage you to come up with brand spankin’ new ones. And remember, no smut.
I’ll submit my answers as promptly as I can, so have at me, people!

-kwm

Bacon!

Bacon!!

BACON!!!

Questions for you, readers:– Is it time to retire www.hats.com from the blogroll?

– What other worthy sites should be served up on our roll, perhaps slightly warmed, and accompanied by a lemon-garlic aioli?

I’ll choose ONE honorary blogroll recipient for the month of February to the person who makes the best case for that particular site. Needless to say, it should be a halfway decent, (1) non-porn-y site which is (2) not a shrine of appreciation to Larry Hagman and — dear Lord, please! — (3) not a combination of the sites disqualified in (1) and (2). Beyond that, pitch me any site which you think has earned its place on the right, there. ———>

***MIKE ADDS…

It’s the bacon (for dogs, yes, yes, we know that) that has the flavor of bacon AND the flavor of cheese!

Is it really just for dogs…?

*** KEVIN ADDS:

Let’s not forget the Medieval scholar and monk version:

Nor can we neglect the troubled 20th century Irish painter:

Really, Bacon is so versatile! And remember to blogroll its fond companion.

After cultivating my resemblance to George Lucas, my fellow Riffers cruelly issued two fresh challenges. First, said Mike Nelson, “Are you up for a little Proximo?” referring to the role in Gladiator played by bawdy, boozing and deceased Sir Oliver Reed; then Bill Corbett added fuel to the fire and dared me to tweak my visage to neatly resemble pop icon Billy Joel.

Done and done. After enough Furious Ale to aid my resemblance to Oliver Reed, I came up with this:

Okay, I had to improvise a lot. I don’t have a Kufi so I had to use my yellow Carhart. And certainly I didn’t drink near enough ale. But it’s all me, and that scares me a little.

However, Billy Joel was easy. I just took my press photo, lopped the top of my skull off and replaced it with Mr. Joel’s:

I also borrowed his well-dressed thorax. But now I know how to get into the Cafe Carlyle in Manhattan without paying the cover. Maybe even get a free drink. Hell, who knows, you might see Billy Murph up on the stage trading verses of “Ladies who Lunch” with Elaine Stritch. And by the way:

A NEW CHALLENGE:

Bill and Mike, I challenge you summon your powers and cultivate your resemblance to Broadway Powerhouse Elaine Stritch:

No excuses. Get busy.

*
*
UPDATE BY BILL: First of all, Kevin: bravo, sir. You did fine a fine job with Mssrs. Reed and Joel. I thank you for forging ahead with the important work of transforming celebrity photos into semblances of ourselves. It’s something the this crazy world needs badly right now.

So let me contribute to the cause, as well. I’m an acknowledged master of Photoshop, as you know, Kevin… but your challenge proved difficult. I might have put a little too much of myself in there.

Anyway, here goes:

I probably shouldn’t have added as many of my own neck wattles, and toned down my octogenerian look of fear/surprise/impending death. But heck, I did my best.

cheers,

BILL