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(written by Dennis, Charlotte, and Mike Hayes)
from popeye-x 220.127.116.11 5/30/00 19:12:09
PPX: I found this in GOOGLE!
Music Under Siege:
The Trial of Michael Bolton (Part II)
(Nuremberg) The trial of purported singer Michael Bolton continued here today. The final prosecution witness was the Reverend Jesse Jackson, unelected President of the Black United States of America. Reverend Jackson provided the prosecution with powerful arguements supporting the incarceration/deanimation of Bolton. "This geek thinks he's Black," testified Jackson. "And Black folks are tired of dumpy, dickless soulman wannabes desecrating our cultural heritage." "The main problem," continued the Reverend, "is that his pasty, flat, hairless face resembles the pasty, flat, hairless buttocks of the typical Caucasian. The Reverend concluded: " The man is ugly. If he was a stud like Mel Gibson it wouldn't be so bad. But to see The Singing Buttocks eunuching his way through 'When a Man Loves a Woman' is more than any self-respecting Black person can stand. I am usually opposed to the death penalty, but in this case I am willing to make an exception." At this point the prosecution rested, using the hammocks conveniently located in the judge's chambers.
There was a hush, a murmur, and a moist, steamy, farting sound as the defense, orchestrated by John Tesh, began their opening remarks. As the Funeral March from "Live at Red Rocks" droned on in the background, Barrister Tesh towered above the assembled pulchritude and spoke unto them: "For my first witness let me call a man who, as the defendant in dozens of plagiarism suits, is no stranger to the criminal justice system. Let's give it up for The Hardest Pretending Man in Show Business, Mr. Michael Bolton!!" Tesh then left the courtroom to host a televised seminar about Hip Yet Monogamous Celebrity Relationships.
Bolton, whining audibly and drooling profusely, arose from his seat slowly, like an arthritic Tectonic Plate, tearing his nylons on a rusty nail which was inadvertently place in the middle of his chair. Resembling a hirsute Jon Benet Ramsey, Bolton commenced his vigorous defense by soiling his lace nightie and tripping on his ballet slippers. Never able to actually reach the witness stand, he eventually minced over to the bailiff's areas, where he practiced break-dancing for several minutes, before lapsing into a much anticipated coma.
The dancing episode exposed Bolton's total lack of coordination as well as his buttocks, which burst feebly from his ill-fitting nightie. Jurors gasped and begged for oxygen masks with the realization that the flat, pasty, hairless object within their gaze was the buttocks-buttocks, not the facial-buttocks, of the defendant. A group of Bolton fans (purportedly female, but at 250+ pounds gender becomes irrelevant) began to swoon as Bolton mooned, his sheer lingerie unable to contain his putrid masculinity.
Judge Kendall Pudsticker, wishing to play a bit of tether ball, declared a short recess, allowing the defense time to recoagulate. Upon resumption Barrister Tesh, his massive forehead shining like a solar panel, made a dramatic announcement. "Your honor, reliable sources at Entertainment Tonight have indicated that my client has changed his plea. We withdraw our previous offer and now plead nolo kajone (not guilty by reason of emasculation). Then Barrister Tesh, his trademark incoherent grin laminated on his chiseled, mildly annoying features, called a parade of expert defense witnesses, who testified to Bolton's stupidity, sterility, and ethnic delusions. Doctor Herman Stickfiddler, Pompous Ass Emeritus, and expert on racial neurosis testified that Bolton's soulman pretensions were symptoms of a profound, underlying disorder. According to the doctor, "His Blue-Haired Soul musings--sacrilegious though they may be--are indications of a profoundly warped mind." When asked by the Brilliant Barrister to compare The Singing Buttocks with Ted Bundy, the doctor began by requesting that Tesh "turn off that bright light in the middle of your forehead," and then, more to the point replied, "At least Bundy could sing."
The second defense witness, Professor Jack Offenhausen, an expert in intelligence assessment, testified that The Singing Buttocks was simply too stupid to harbor any elaborate racial delusions. Barrister Tesh, chronically unable to learn from past mistakes, again asked the witness to compare the Blue-Haired Soulman with mass murderer Ted Bundy. Professor Offenhausen replied, "The true sociopath like Bundy possesses a high degree of intelligence---albeit of a most devious nature. In contrast Bolton is unable to muster a decent spinal reflex, let alone an original thought. In fact his Texas Chainsaw singing style and spastic stage mannerisms most remind me of a severed chicken leg, twitching madly during some long-forgotten biology lab."
The final defense witness further chipped away at the myths surrounding the Crooning Cowpie. Noted sex therapist Trina Self-Stimulato testified that she was sexier than Doctor Laura, and that Bolton's primary affliction was neither stupidity nor racial neurosis, but rather chronic impotence. Doctor Self-Stimulato, her eyes glazed over and her breathing increasing deep, testified that she examined The Singing Buttocks using an electron microscope and found him "small, soft, and sickening." In addition, painful, invasive DNA probes were utilized to verify that, as long suspected, Bolton was lacking the all-important Artistic Credibility chromosome. As Doctor Self-Stimulato's testimony reached a gushing, spasmodic crescendo she summarized thusly: "Bolton's utter inability to perform marital relations renders him singularly unqualified to sing anything even remotely related to soul music." She did admit, however, the Bolton could probably sing some type of song as long as it had nothing to do with sex, romance, passion, or human relationships. "Perhaps," she suggested "he could try singing on radio commercials for products such as lawn fertilizer or adult diapers---especially the super-absorbent kind." At this Reverend Jackson, overcome by a spontaneous burst of enthusiasm, rose from the back of the courtroom and spoke: "I like the idea of radio. It keeps him off welfare and I'd never have to see his pasty, white Ass-Face again. God, that man is ugly!" With that, Judge Kendall Pudsticker adjourned.
To be continued....
© 1999 Dennis, Charlotte & Mike Hayes
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