Greetings to all of my fair-weather friends. The Blum has returned to engage you with my tales of Hollywood deviancy and sensual adventures, the world over. This week, I have the unfortunate task of calling out an old buddy. Burt Reynolds, you sick, bloated son of a bitch — you defecated on my Persian rug and then you smacked my (now ex) fiance in the nose with a bag of frozen peas. What is your problem buddy? So in response to your unbridled display of angry jerkdom at its most potent, I can only renege on our previous blood oath to never share this story in public, or indeed with Alec Baldwin (that cad).
—-
So anyway, Jeff Goldblum (that’s me), Burt Reynolds and Alec “I swear I didn’t know she was that young” Baldwin were taking a brief flight in Blumboy #1 to visit my place in New York. We had been out on an all-weekend binge which had culminated in Alec insisting on an 8 hour flight made up of nothing but viewing multiple soft-core fetish films with the sound off. Burt had been riding Alec for the whole weekend about how his marriage had broken up. With Alec’s daughter recently canceling several pre-arranged father/daughter outings, Burt was continuously insisting that Alec was no longer a man. “A true father”, he would say, “wouldn’t accept this Grade A BS. A father would lay down the law”. Alec eventually passed out, his hand down the crotch of his blue sweat pants, his mouth covered in mustard. When I heard Burt chuckling to himself in the bathroom, I knew something strange was up. After a few minutes, he came out with his cell-phone in hand.
I asked him, “what have you done Burt?”
“I’ve just ribbed the shit out of that sonofabitch”.
From the other side of the plane, Alec’s phone beeped. Alec, knocking his half-eaten taco from his lap, retrieved the special edition “Departed” branded phone, given to him by Scorcese from his bowling shirt pocket. Reading the message, he quickly became irate, cursing into the air about his wife and daughter.
“What’s wrong Alec?”
“That pig, she just said that my performance in Miami Blues was hammy and overrated”.
Shuffling to the toilet, his pants now around his ankles, Alec took out a fresh salami sandwich as we landed in New York. Shortly after he made this phone call.
—-
So in closing, Burt, you’re a sadistic ass and your moustache is silly.
Jeff Goldblum
- BROWSE / IN TIMELINE
- « Shameful Music
- » REVIEW: Animal Collective — Strawberry Jam
- BROWSE / IN Larks and Buffoonery Movies
- « Superhero-A-Go-Go!
- » Donnie Redux
COMMENTS / 2 COMMENTS
Mister Fusty added these pithy words on May 08 08 at 10:30 amYou missed a trick there Jeffy boy. You should have called your aircraft THE Fly.
Jeff added these pithy words on May 09 08 at 1:22 am“Listen, Jeff. You’re a classy guy — that is, if you define class as being a freaky-deaky who’s been in a movie or two. I know how to handle my meat just fine, son — just ask Dinah Shore, okay? Just ask Loni Anderson or any of the other fine ladies I managed to bag in the 1970s. I know how to handle meat. I’m not sure the same can be said of you, since the last time I saw you and Chuck Heston in the same place, you were drunk, with your willie out, pissing all over Tom Cruise’s flower bed, singing “We’ll Meet Again” at the top of your lungs. You call that class? Dom Deluise — that’s class.” — From that arse, Burt Reynolds. You listen up Burt– you’re a fad, man. Your moustache makes me sick. I have a weekly column– what do you have? A bagel and cream cheese with a christmas themed tie? You’re nothing Reynolds.
SPEAK / ADD YOUR COMMENT
Comments are moderated.
You must be logged in to post a comment.
