My History With the FCC

I've been doing my show for a long time now, and during that time I've met a lot of people who claimed to be celebrities, a lot of people who swallowed oddly shaped objects and had X-Rays to prove it, and a lot of celebrities who swallowed oddly shaped things and got really upset when I managed to get a hold of the X-Rays and expose them on national television. Except Richard Gere. He didn't swallow anything.  (And yes, I realize making a Richard Gere joke just now was the easy way out, but don't blame me, blame the people who voted in my recent "Who should Shell Make an Off-Color Joke About Regarding Oddly-Shaped Objects and X-Rays?" poll. Judith Light came in a distant second. Never let it be said I don't give the people what they want.)

I forgot where I was going with this. Oh! That's right -  I was about to enter into a rant about why I hate the FCC. 

The FCC and I have had a contentious relationship ever since I started my show. The first time I heard from them was minutes after my first broadcast, when they called my dressing room to tell me I couldn't say "Ass-hat" on TV. They proceeded to tell me I couldn't even say "Ass" on TV, or "hat." Over the next few weeks I discovered that this policy stretched to "Fanny-Fedora," "Butt-Bowler" and "Booty-Beret" as well. 

Now I know that many of you are surprised that this would stop me, but you must understand that it was a different time, and I was new to the business. I didn't want to step on the wrong toes lest those toes take my show away and send me back to the Jenga factory. So I tried to play along.

That didn't last long. 

If you're a student of old timey newspaper clippings and newsreels, you may have come across some stories involving me kidnapping the FCC's board of directors and feeding one of them to an Orangutan while making the others watch, then storing the survivors for a week or four in a Sarlacc Pitt I had Stan Winston specifically build for me in my backyard while pelting them with rotting oranges from above. 

Hogwash!

Stan Winston was busy that summer. I had to use Rick Baker. Stupid media can never get anything right. 

To make a long story short, me and the FCC reached an agreement. They'd basically leave me alone as long as I didn't show any full frontal female nudity on my show or have Janet Jackson as a guest. They didn't seem all that concerned with me shooting people in the face, which has since become a staple of the show. It's an uneasy truce, especially whenever I have Sasha Grey on. But the FCC never said anything about what I can do in my dressing room, so for now I'm keeping my Orangutan in his cage, waiting for the day when I get another phone call complaining about the "Blumpkins Bonanza" segment. 

Then it's Mr. Bananas' time to shine.