Hello there children! Welcome to my new weekly column on everything shocking and dripping in entertainment. I am talking to you after a particularly vexing afternoon which was spent trying to get Burt Reynolds to mop up his ungodly filth that came from a midnight burrito feast. That old man can’t handle his meat. I then received an email in my Inbox detailing the desires of a bearded man in acquiring my talents on a weekly basis– nothing new there then. Reading further I discovered that it was in fact a request for my ever growing (easy) fan-base of Internet peons to be moved over to this establishment. I, of course quickly agreed to a simple deal consisting of one sandwich per article, knowing that my fans can’t be deprived for too long. So now that the introduction is out of the way, let’s get on to the meat of the matter, in a piece I like to call:

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My Jeff consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind.

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After all of this talk about Amy Winehouse and the recent passing of Mr. Charlton Heston, it reminded me of an encounter I had with both individuals at a stately function some months back. Mr. Heston was a real man’s man. Unlike that cad Alec Baldwin, he had a reputation for being able to satisfy a lady in the bedroom. Another great thing about Charlie was that he didn’t weep into his cereal while watching re-runs of Golden Girls pant-less and unemployed. Ya hear that Alec?? You bounding cad. Anyway, carrying on. Charlie had a penchant for making stirring speeches morning, noon and night. I was staying over at his house and I had been out the night previously – trying to aid the youth of America by imparting some of my wisdom and candor. Charlie was angry. He had prepared me several grapefruits which my excess stomach acid would not let me devour with the abandon he had come to expect from Jeff Goldblum.

“What’s up with ya, boy?”

“Nothing Charlie, I just had a rough night of it”.

He placed his automatic weapon on the breakfast table and picked up the newspaper. He must have seen something incredibly shocking in there because he immediately started choking on his portion of grapefruit. I tried patting him on the back but nothing budged. Even my continuous shots to the skull did nothing to ease his pain. All of a sudden from under the table out came Amy Winehouse - I’ll be honest, I didn’t know she was there. Dashing behind him with the grace of a well-trimmed puma, she applied the Heimlich maneuver and out popped the offending morsel. Apparently I had forgotten that our paths had crossed the night before.

So let this be a lesson to you kids out there, don’t trust what you read… on the packet… or something. If Amy Winehouse hadn’t been there then Charlie would have surely died.

Until next time on Love is in Blum, remember that love is transient but Jeff is forever.

Jeff

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