The Trouble With Blind Items

It's been brought to my attention that I've been showing up in a lot of "blind items" lately. Blind Items, for those of you who have lives, are nuggets of gossip found in the paper that due to the threat of lawsuits, don't name who they're talking about. Here's an example:

This washed-up actor was recently caught in an alley behind a Penn Station Peepshow doing three things simultaneously: A tranny hooker, lines of coke mixed with baking soda off the aforementioned tranny hooker's back, and speaking with his mom on bluetooth. Sources say it's the first two that make the third possible, and three is enough!

If you read between the lines, this blind item is obviously about 'Eight is Enough' star Adam Rich. I've caught him in that alley myself! Even joined in once or twelve times! The problem arises when blind items are written - obviously about a particular person - and for some reason people assume they're about you. Or me, in this case. 

I'd like to set the record straight on the recent slew of lies being passes around, and assure all of my loyal fans that the following blind items are IN NO WAY about me:

What host of a low-rated talk show specializing in Z-grade "celebrities" and assorted superheroes was overheard at a free clinic bragging about the number of times he's avoided prosecutution for statutory "offenses" at Jonas Brothers concerts by faking his death and stealing the identities of comatose war veterans? Sources say he's recieved so many ill-gotten Purple Hearts in the mail, that he's planning on melting them down and fashioning them into a statue in the likeness of Tony Orlando. 

Okay, this one is obviously about Maury Povich. I don't know where people get off thinking this was me - and the fact that I have a purple Tony Orlando statue outside of my office is a complete coincidence, I assure you. Those statues are outside every important person's office. If you've never seen one before, you must not have been in the company of anyone important. 

It's well known around town that this talkshow host with one name is a sleazebag, but even Child Protective Services (which investigated our subject when they were accused of trying to sell orphan meat to Indian restaurants) would be shocked at this latest accusation. Apparently our Tinseltown Talker likes to sneak into hospitals at night, steal newborns and take them to an abandoned parking garage downtown where they've set up a makeshift baby-fighting ring. They pit the tots against ferrets, chipmunks and the occasional otter, with the winner going back to the hospital. The recent rash of new mothers waking up to find their baby has turned into an otter is not due to contaminated water from the nuclear plant - as our host's show's press department would have you believe - but is in fact due to our one-named host's nocturnal activities. 

This one is clearly Oprah. And yes, that spy pic of me holding two bassinets running from a hospital in the middle of the night that was published in the New York Times last week may have seemed suspicious, but I was just doing some late night ham shopping. I like to carry my hams in bassinetts, so sue me. It keeps them fresher. And yes, I do my ham shopping at the hospital. Hospitals have special ham boutiques for celebrities, for your information.  Jack Nicholson gets all his hams at the hospital, and you don't see anyone making a federal case out of it. Mmm, hospital ham...

This crappy late-night talkshow host has been having a "Shell" of a time with some of his recent guests. Turns out our host-with-no-mouth has instructed his show's accounting department to stopy paying guests' appearance fees in money, and instead start using "Shell Bucks," which are nothing more than store-brand crackers with smiley faces scrawled in Cheez Whiz. Our host claims each "bill" is worth $1000 taking into consideration the time and creative energy it takes him to scrawl each cheesy smily face. This has led to somewhat of a guest revolt, with so many celebrities refusing to come on the show that recent episodes have been forced to feature the likes of Darva Conger and James Van DerBeek. It seems this "shell" of a talkshow host has been having money problems lately, due mostly to his betting on baby fights. There's also the Atlantic City stripper he supports, mostly in increments of $1. During his latest trip to his favorite strip club, he tried switching to his self-named currency, which left the club staff less than pleased and sticky with cheesy goodness. Our host was thrown out of the club and told never to return unless it was with non food-based money. Old "Shell"-head is now trying to raise money through the sale of orphans and orphan-based products to ethnic restaurants.

Uh, this one is obviously...Dr. Phil. No question. That guy's a tool. Don't trust him. 

And that, my friends, should absolve me of any vicious rumors currently swirling around me. And remember, next time you hear someone talking smack about me, tell them "Hey! That's Shell you're talking about! The man who loves orphans and woodland creatures and hates Hitler! That man doesn't have a mean bone in his body, so stop that silly  rumor nonsense! I mean really!!"

Then punch them in the throat and run away.