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Wednesday, October 6, 2010

When I Become a Celebrity

It's not a matter of "if," of course. I mean, look at me. I've got "celebrity" (and "Jew") written all over my swarthy little puss.

So, yeah, when I become a celebrity, things are gonna change around this motherfucker.

First of all, when I become a celebrity...

* I'm not going to blog anymore.

Of course "My Masonic Apron" is still going to exist when I become a celebrity, I'm just not going to write it anymore. I'm going to have five dozen pock-marked troll-looking troglodytes manacled together in some dank, moldy basement somewhere in western Duluth who are going to churn out content for me. They're also going to tweet the shit out of everything for me, too. Because, when you're a celebrity, even if you eschew and reject the idea of Twitter, you've just got to tweet to all your bitches. Which reminds me, when I become a celebrity...

* I'm going to have LOTS of bitches.

Of course I'm still going to be married to Mrs. Apron, and I'm not going to have sex with any of these aforementioned bitches, but, let's face it, when you're a celebrity, you've got to have LOTS of bitches. They've got to be skinny, vapid bitches, too-- blonde, if at all possible, but, if not, that can easily be fixed with the proper chemicals and enthusiasm. My bitches will cook my dinner, be photographed with me whilst I shop for broccoli and garlic & onion almonds, and they will assist with my morning and evening toileting as needed. I will be draped in bitches, bitches. I will also require some bitches who have at least received medical training on the level of a Certified Nurse's Assistant who will be able to transfer me to and from my wheelchair because, when I become a celebrity...

* I'm not going to walk anymore.

Walking is just so common, so cumbersome, so exhausting... so... pedestrian. I'm sick and tired of being, well, ambulatory, and being forced to walk from my car to the ATM, from the couch to the refrigerator, from the toilet to the masturbatorium (shower), from the coffee pot to the coffee mug. I mean-- seriously? Fuck that shit. When I become a celebrity, you can just call me Wheels McGee because I'm gonna roll that shit, all day long. Not only will I never be seen in public not in a wheelchair (a smart reversal of the FDR cripple policy, eh?) but I may just make retarded faces and tense up my arms so people really stare at me, and then...

* I'm going to throw up on people.

As the ancient Romans said, "In Vomitus Veritas." In vomit, there is truth. When I am a celebrity, I will make it a point to lob hot streams of puke in the faces of my oppressors and my fans alike. No doubt those who adore me (and who wouldn't, really?) and who are lucky enough to be thrown up on at my book signings and stand-up gigs will bottle my emesis and sell it on E-bay, or just treasure it in their own private collection of celebrity fluids. I will make certain to throw up on the paparazzi, because, let's face it-- they've had it coming for a long time, and I'm surprised Robert Downey, Jr. hasn't tried it yet. While we're on the subject of vomit, when I become a celebrity...

* I'm going to film myself having dirty sex with some dumb bitch and release it on the internet.

Now, I know what you're saying-- "But, Apron-- you said you weren't going to fuck any of your bitches!" And that's right, I'm not. What I will do is drug some stupid bitch, get her in a hotel room in a duffel bag or something, and hire a stunt double who shares my body type-- probably Kate Moss with a strap-on should do nicely-- and I'll put a mask of Adrien Brody with some Groucho Marx glasses on her and *boom* you've got ME! I'll darken the room, and shoot the film with that grainy, green night-vision shit made famous by Paris Hilton and it'll look just like I'm fucking the piss out of some stupid bitch. I'll make sure Kate Moss throws up on the bitch just so everyone's sure it's me, and there'll be a wheelchair nearby, too. Wait-- can you throw up on somebody while wearing an Adrien Brody facemask? I'll have to make sure the mouth-hole is really cut big. I wouldn't want Kate Moss to throw up into her own mouth while fucking some dumb bitch with a strap-on while wearing some cheap-ass Halloween Adventure facemask. That could get nasty. And, speaking of which, when I become a celebrity...

* I'm going to write a children's book.

Because, somehow, being a celebrity qualifies you to be a children's book author. Who knew, right? This is a relatively modern phenomenon. I don't think James Dean ever wrote a children's book, and I know that Maria Callas never did either. But modern celebrities do it all the time. Mine's going to be called, "Let's All Throw Up on Each Other."


  1. Honestly, if the existence of this post alone doesn't catapult you to instant fame and notoriety, then there is no justice in this world. (Oh -- oh wait. Of course there isn't. Still, my point stands.)

  2. I am IN LOVE with this blog!


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