Betrayed

Image of the day: Jeff Speakman breaking into the F&P, CCTV footage

If I have suffered through the years, and I have, for the singularity of my artistic vision, if I was stubborn and stepped on toes to bring new and thought-provoking ideas into the world, if I was too uncompromising or too passionate, too fickle or too headstrong, and thought that the people would forgive me for it if only for the joy I brought them, I now realize that I was alone in my appreciation of my great gifts. I now know that I am hedged in by vampires, deceivers, con men and pimps, who have sadly sold me out. And if I am lying in my waterbed in my 10-man tent behind the Seagal-Busey-Gibson Petting Zoo, which I am, it isn’t only my 700-plus lbs keeping me here, it is the intense sorrow of betrayal that weighs me down. Yesterday, after careful analysis of the CCTV kitchen tapes, Team Seagal uncovered the identity of the mystery prowler who invaded my personal living space in the dead of night, the heartless swine who violated my inner sanctum, my holy of holies, my kitchen, the night of my Vesuvian weight gain, and it was none other than my long-time friend, collaborator (and the source of invaluable inspiration throughout my cinematic and musical careers), Jeff Speakman. Chatto also discovered an empty packet of Captain Gastro’s Late Night Fat Powder in the pebble garden, and it is this vile substance (and not the Tic Tac or Slimming Touch’s secret ingredient, powdered porcupine toenails) that, according to both the NeoFat people and Dr. Otix, triggered the spontaneous explosion in my fatty matter that pushed me, in one weekend, over the 700-lb mark.

And that’s not all. When I confronted Jeff with the footage last night (tell me that’s not him), he denied the whole thing, and called me a pathetic, voice-dubbed tub of lard. Enough? Not for Jeff it wasn’t. This morning he faxed a memo to the Martial Arts Screenwriters Guild, signed additionally by Lorenzo Lamas, Dolph Lungren, Jackie Chan, Jackie Chan’s brother, Louis Chan, John Claude Van Damme, Ron Marchini, Chuck Norris, and many other of my lesser-known colleagues, in which he refers to me, among many other hurtful names, as ‘a one-man traffic jam’, ‘Jabba the Hutt’s overweight brother,’ ‘an Aikido wave,’ ‘a Tibetan army’, ‘a cetacean’, which Eric tells me is taxonomical jargon for ‘whale’, ‘a synonym for fat’, ‘the man who ate the Dalai Lama’, and, the most vicious of all, ‘the Orson Welles of low quality cinema’, referring to my size not my low quality cinema. So there it is. The evidence speaks for itself. One day, I know, Jeff himself will need help and see if I’ll come to his aid then, provided that I’m mobile at the time.

Too heartbroken to eat more than 7 McRib Super Size Meals and a box of Ho-Ho’s. Only gained 2 lbs.

Yesterday’s Meals:

7 McRib Super Size Meals and a box of Ho-Ho’s

Side by Side:

My Weight: 708 ½ lbs
A boulder: 500 lbs