Newscoma

Badger and I were talking about Cousin Oliver on the Brady Bunch the other day and about the Cousin Oliver syndrome as a whole. We both agreed that when a television show adds a cute and snarky kid, the show is doomed.

No one knew what happened with Cousin Oliver, not that we cared but then again, me being me, had to go and look up Robbie Rist. I know. I have some sort of blogging ADHD. I guess I did care after all.

I’m a child of the 70s. We may have had LSD in the water back in the day. One never knows.

I found this interview with the Washington Post from a couple of years ago with Rist. This kind of made me laugh.

RR: On occasion. Susan Olson and I talk maybe a couple times a year. We talk about her kid and whatever I’m working on. I think the last time I saw Mike Lookinland was at a shooting for the CBS Morning Show. They had all the Brady guys on, so it was Barry [Williams], Chris Knight and myself in New York with Mike on a remote TV screen and oddly, with that episode, I was on the morning Bryant Gumbel quit. Coincidence? I don’t know.

Liz: Cousin Oliver strikes again.

RR: I’ll take credit for it. What the hell?

I think Cousin Oliver might indeed be the best pop culture term ever and that he might just be the greatest “harbinger of death” ever.

After “bloated whitey” which is a pop culture term I invented but hasn’t taken off yet. Anyway, here is Robbie Rist’s MySpace page. He apparently has been a busy boy.

In the spirit of disclosure, I think saying “bloated whitey” just flows off the tongue. Followed closely by “fishsticked.™” invented by Sara Clark and I which is a great word. It never took off either.

Dang.

The Catholic Church is saying some things. No, not about communion, but about aliens. From Mars.

The Pope’s chief astronomer says that life on Mars cannot be ruled out.

Writing in the Vatican newspaper, the astronomer, Father Gabriel Funes, said intelligent beings created by God could exist in outer space.

Father Funes, director of the Vatican Observatory near Rome, is a respected scientist who collaborates with universities around the world.

The search for forms of extraterrestrial life, he says, does not contradict belief in God.

As you know, I always wanted to work for Weekly World News. Then they shut down. Then I became shiftless, started drinking too much, lost my way, tried to write bad poetry about Yetis and attempted to seek BatBoy out by myself.

Alas, I lost my funding. It was only $3.64 but it went towards the cause.

One of these days, some big outfit is going to hire my happy self to cover big stories about Bigfoot. And we know, of course, now this photo is true.

The truth is out there.

I had a dream last night about those tiny alligator heads that they sell on the Gulf Coast in souvenir shops. I hate those things. Hate is too mild a word actually.

As I was doing one of those floaty things,  kind of hovering around (where you don’t really walk) watching people buy those damned things, I looked up at the television and Barry Bonds was running for president. I looked at a lady who suspiciously looked like RuaBelle and we both scowled at the TV.

I asked her, “Has CeeElCee finished his book yet?”

“No,” she replied. “He will begin work on it on Friday.”

“Why Friday?” I said watching Bonds big head which looked larger than life.

“Friday is the day we eat green pepper pizza.” she replied and walked away. As this was a dream, it made perfect sense to me.

I bought a little plastic television that you click and it changed the picture from alligators to cranes and other wildlife of what I’m assuming was a swamp.

I walked outside and there were protesters holding signs to save the alligator heads and I gave them a dollar.

Then I woke up.

I didn’t know I was a psychic as this morning I see that Bonds has been indicted again.

I really either need an Ambien prescription or a vacation.