Ted Ted Announces Broadway Musical Based on The Blair Witch Project

ollowing Tuesday's announcement by Elton John that he and Bernie Taupin would collaborate on a Broadway musical based on Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire books, it was universally realized that a Broadway musical could be based on anything, no matter how stupid the idea. The notion, first proposed by the Broadway versions of Beauty & the Beast and The Lion King, inspired longtime commune reporter Ted Ted to announce Saturday he would create a musical based on the 1999 film The Blair Witch Project.

The Blair Witch Project, a documentary-style horror film featuring three Burkittsville, Maryland students' frightening encounter with a terrifying local legend, did not seem like an especially good musical show to Ted Ted, who was insistent on proving his point that people going to Broadway will sit through anything. Though not yet completed or started, the musical is in what Ted Ted describes as the "brainstorming" pre-production period, where he thinks of how to break up the movie into a two-act show and comes up with some dumb songs based on incidents in the movie.

Early work points to inclusion of a title song, sung by the Blair Witch character who does not appear in the original film, tentatively titled, "I'm the Blair Witch!" The song will be in the vein of the "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" song from the good cartoon version of the Dr. Seuss How the Grinch Stole Christmas and not the pitiful Ron Howard/Jim Carrey movie version.

Also being considered for the Blair Witch Broadway play is a song for the scene where two of the young filmmakers are searching for their friend, which will probably be called simply, "Josh!" and be very much in the tradition of South Pacific or something really gay like that. Plans are also being developed for a long, sonorous ballad titled something like, "I'm So Scared" to be belted out by the lead female character.

The musical will probably not be very good, promised Ted Ted, but it will sell out instantly and run for a very long time on Broadway due to Ted Ted's plan to cast has-beens or one-hit musical wonders in the lead roles. Initially being considered for the three roles are Debbie Gibson, Jordan Knight, and Jesse Camp. Not being ruled out is the idea of inviting the three has-beens from the original film to reprise their roles in the Broadway show.

"The idea stems," explained Ted Ted, "from my deep, unrelenting contempt for Broadway and the shallow shells of human beings who put any trendy piece of garbage on the stage because idiots who think it makes them hip to be seen going to Broadway or who jump on big Broadway bandwagons will pay to see it. I utterly loathe and despise Broadway people, the lowest of the already-low grade of showbiz people."

Broadway people could not be reached for comment, given that Ted Ted did not bother to try.

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There once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.

The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.

The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.

I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man.
Of him, I'm beginning to tire."

From that day on I was cast aside,
No more joyous dancing for me.
I'd watch and weep from my windowsill,
While the other kids squealed with glee.
Oh what a way to spend your days,
But now I'm older and I don't even care.
All those kids grew up and got ass cancer,
And that baloney man was ate by a bear.

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Deidrebane, Deidrebane, Deidrebane. My sweet, dear paranoid Deidrebane. I don't know through which orifice crawled in these latest musings that torture your fevered imagination, but I assure you, beyond the wispiest shadow of a doubt, that the Feds are most certainly not on to us.

No, my Deidrebane, not The Fuzz either. Not the pigs, the rookers, Johnny Law, The Man, or the Blue Meanies. None of them, Deidrebane. Not one. The flower delivery man yesterday? Just delivering flowers. No secret camera in his oversized belt-buckle, my dear. I think the young man was just from Texas. I understand that kind of thing is a point of pride down there. I don't know, my dear, perhaps he won a rodeo. Or some kind of pro wrestling title. Regardless, he was not initiating a sophisticated electronic scan of our home's interior, for the purpose of compiling a detailed 3-D holographic model of our home to aid the S.W.A.T. team or armed DEA agents in a raid of our mansion. No, not the ATF either. And I don't think the CTU is a real organization, my dear.

Yes, my dearest Deidrebane, that really was the cable guy. And I don't know why he had that cast on his arm. Perhaps he fell out of a tree. Yes they do, adults fall out of trees all the time. Remember when I fell out of that Sequoia on our vacation last year? I did not think I could fly, Deidrebane, I thought we'd already dispelled that ugly rumor. Fine, I suppose you've never woken up hungry for an owl-egg omelet. Lucky you, my dear.

And no, Deidrebane, it is not possible to bug a toilet. I don't even know where you got that idea. And even if you could, why would you want to? Yes, I suppose it would be an impressive engineering feat. That still doesn't answer my question. I don't think the Federal government does things like that just to prove that they can. Look, I can't stop you from using our neighbor's restroom, but I can't guarantee they're going to be thrilled about the idea. Ever since I ran over the Chunderbuns' doghouse, those people have had a serious case of the holier-than-thous. Yes, Deidrebane, I realize it was full of dogs at the time. I don't remember shouting anything about how the wood was barking. That sounds exactly like the kind of thing you would make up after a few cocktails.

Have you been watching the movies again? I suspect you have, you always get like this after one of your movie nights. Remember back when you saw E.T. and became convinced there was an alien locked in our pantry? I don't think our son ever really recovered from that broom attack, my dear. And he was practically diabetic after you'd pushed all those Reese's pieces underneath the door. No, I don't remember his name either. I think he played tennis. Perhaps shuffleboard. He definitely did something outdoors. Might have been a fireman.

And no, I don't think it's a good idea to get rid of my drug stash in case the feds come bursting through the windows in rappelling equipment, firing German shepherds in from the lawn by catapult. Do you have any idea what that would entail, my dear? I suspect that part of this house may have been constructed from illegal narcotics; I can't vouch for my state of mind at the time that I was drawing up the plans. That reminds me; if the house ever catches on fire, stay away from the upstairs bathroom. I don't think a single human being was ever meant to smoke an entire bathtub made from tar heroin.

No my dear, when the S.W.A.T. team comes, they won't ring the doorbell, and they won't be disguised as gardeners or insurance salesmen or ninjas. I don't think they have a budget commensurate to those Mission Impossible films you love so. Okay, they might have a battering ram. Would that make you happy? I swear, Deidrebane, you're starting to alarm the children. Send them outside to play with the gardeners before you give these children a complex. Yes, my dear, the gardeners have always had walkie-talkies. I swear, Deidrebane, sometimes you're like the Joan of Arc of paranoia.

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