American Planning Sequel to Hit Black Hawk Down

oosted by good numbers at the box office and positive reviews from film critics and the Bush administration, the White House and Congress have already begun planning a sequel to the hit film Black Hawk Down.

"The characters, the firefights, everything was so realistic," said President Bush, after a screening at the White House. "The only thing was I wanted to see a clearer victory for American soldiers. I'm sure audiences felt the same way. And by gum, I love to give the American people what they want."

Black Hawk Down is based on factual events experienced by troops in Mogadishu, Somalia in 1993. A spiral of events following a botched military operation and the loss of a MH-60 Black Hawk helicopter led to the death of 18 American soldiers in battle against groups of armed Somalis. The incident was a major setback for the Clinton administration and led to weakening public approval for the operation in Somalia.

Now, however, the Bush administration is highly driven by the powerful Ridley Scott film to put a happy ending on the story.

"It'll be ten years since the first movie happened next year," said president Bush, "and I say that's a great ol' time for a return to Somalia. We can call it Black Hawk Down 2: No Surrender. Ain't that somethin'?"

Trent Lott, Majority Leader of the Senate and fellow fan of Black Hawk Down, agreed. "Bill Clinton can't write a great war movie, I'll tell you that much. A sex and intrigue film starring Michael Douglas, I'll give him that one—let him work on Basic Instinct 2. But with a Republican in office, now's the time for a big fat winning sequel to Black Hawk Down. And this time it won't be so depressing!"

Bush has reportedly been trying to round up the original soldiers from the 1993 Somalia incident, but since few of them are still in the military, he isn't optimistic about the same characters returning for victory.

"More than likely it'll be all new guys," said Bush, drawing up plans to ship spare soldiers from Pakistan and Afghanistan to Somalia as soon as possible, "but we're going to do it right this time. Big, photogenic guys that look like Sylvester Stallone or Bruce Willis or something. And of course a wizened old general that could be played perfectly by Chuck Heston. Ooh! I could even play myself maybe in the movie going to support all the troops and all that."

Though Mohamed Farrah Aidid died in 1996, the Bush administration is optimistic another villain, perhaps even more dastardly, has taken his place. According to reports from the long-troubled Somalia, the situation could not be better for increasing military presence.

Before the release of the much-anticipated sequel, Bush is hoping to finish the current project he's working on in Afghanistan, which will hopefully make it to the silver screen later

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My sympathy goes out to the girl who tried to fake her kidnapping last week—hey, I've been there, sister. Whether you're just trying to get attention or making a serious bid for money, it doesn't matter, they always catch you. All these successful kidnapping movies you see just make you think you can get away with it—Ransom, Silence of the Lambs… actually, they didn't get away with it, so maybe the movies are innocent on this one.

I never got away with any of my fake kidnappings. I had enough real ones to establish some credibility that someone actually thought I was steal-worthy, but I wasn't very good at pulling off hoaxes. I like fresh air too much, I suppose, which is probably what the Wisconsin girl's problem was. She was seen parading around town, buying hoax supplies like hoax rope and joke knives and shit. I only hung out in neighborhoods, I never went on shopping sprees or anything. That's one for Clarissa.

Come to think of it, I was usually between 9 and 13 when I faked my kidnappings. What was her excuse? By college age I sure had enough brains to b.s. my way to a convincing kidnapping. Something really believable, like there were two kidnappers, one looked like Danny Terio but a little Horschacky in the face, and the other one had a big beard and looked like Grizzly Adams, but despite his menacing appearance, he was the one who was kind to me—brought me cold sodas and let me watch TV on a portable black-and-white set. Occasionally they would get nervous when they thought cops might be closing in, so they hid me in a closet in a burlap bag but the big one gave me a flashlight because I was scared of the dark. I could hear them through the door, arguing about whether or not they should just kill me and forget the money, but the big guy resisted, given his sweet nature. Eventually the nervous Danny Terio-Horschacky guy lost his cool and tried to ice me with a knife, but the big guy wrestled him away and had to snap his neck to stop him, but not before Danny Terio-Horschacky stabbed him in the belly. Regretful, he freed me from the closet and drove me to a bus station where I could contact my parents, and I asked him if he would be alright, and he said he would, but he was bleeding too bad and messing up the interior of his 1982 Pontiac Firebird. I got out and waved good-bye, knowing I'd never see him again, and that's how I managed to get away, but I don't know the way back.

Damn, that was good. I almost convinced myself I really was kidnapped. I suppose it's possible it's another real kidnapping from my TV days and I just repressed it or something, but I don't think so.

No matter what your reason, though, or how excellent and even poignant the story you make up is, fake kidnappings aren't worth the time. I should do a public service announcement like that. If you want money, hell, there's tons of easier ways to do it. Dealing drugs in minority neighborhoods is one way to make a fortune without ever drawing the attention of cops, but you have to be careful, because if you're a 20-year-old white girl selling heroin you might not be able to defend your turf well against local drug kingpins. But then again, maybe they'll appreciate your spunk. Make you a mascot for their drug trade or something.

And if you want attention, trust me, join a cult. It's like a legitimate kidnapping, drives the folks batshit and they give you a place to sleep and robes to wear. It's like a little vacation at a mind-control resort. Parents will even pay to have people kidnap you back, it's crazy cool. That's how we got my brother Poot back the first couple of cults he joined. Dad didn't pay the kidnapper, but he cooked some great steaks and we had a fun barbecue. The kidnapper was Freddy Mercury, but don't even get me started on that. I'm just trying to let all the kids know, if you're hard up for money or attention, sleeping in the woods and causing a national media frenzy is not always the answer. Sometimes. But not always.

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I'm serious, take a look around you. Do you see anybody having a good time? No fair answering if you're in Cuba or some central-American country. You people live life on a whole different level, and it's easy to have fun 24-7 when the value of a human life is on par with a bag of Cheetos. I'm talking about folks here on the white side of the world, the one noticeably light on the conspicuous enjoyment of not being dead.

When's the last time you saw some happy motherfucker tearing down the Vegas strip with the top down, firing a machine gun randomly into the air while the X-ed out girl scout behind the wheel struggles to keep it on the road? Not size last July, I don't get to Vegas as often as I used to.

But answer me this, when's the last time you saw a married father of four welding runners to the bottom of the minivan, and taking the whole family out for a sledding ride down the biggest hill in town and across the lake that may or may not be frozen all the way across? Hardly ever happens any more. My dad used to pull that shit constantly, one time it wasn't even winter. Back then people knew how to make a game of life and death. You ever see films from back then? Everybody smoked, they didn't care if they lived or died. When you were pregnant you smoked more, because you were smoking for two. And the cars back then! Seat belts? Why would you want to be strapped down to a flaming hunk of metal when the family in the other car got the ride of their lives, finally seeing what it's like to fly? Cars back then were awesome, they drove fast, idled heavy and stopped infrequently. Their idea of a safety feature back then was making the cigarette lighter hole narrow enough a kid could only fit two or three fingers in there. No need to burn off all a kid's fingers just to teach 'em a lesson about curiosity, you know what I'm sayin?

Hell, back then a windshield was an option. If your parents were cheap it meant you got an unobstructed view of the road, and it was like having a dashboard that was four feet deep. Do you have any idea how much shit you could fit on a dashboard like that? Lunch, dinner, a toaster, entire battalions of army men, and more than enough bottle rockets to shoot at any oncoming cars you might see on the drive. The hood was like a wonderland for kids back then. Nowadays what do kids get? A GameBoy and some motion sickness pills. Pardon me if I don't keel over with envy.

You know what people did back then if they were depressed or had emotional problems? They sure as hell didn't piss away the hours in some hazy Prozac twilight like they do now. No, back then if you had a problem, you hit the bottle, and you hit it hard. You ever hear stories about somebody's dad getting ripped on Prozac and tearing around the neighborhood in reverse, all four doors open, lassoing stray neighborhood dogs just for the shit of it? Of course you don't. Doesn't happen. But that kind of shit was happening nightly in my house growing up. Those were the days.

Nowadays if you want to have a good time and not spend the weekend in jail over it, you practically have to go down to Mexico with a trunk full of stun grenades and one of those guns that shoots nets like they use on Rush Limbaugh when he goes on one of his painkiller sprees. Down there, they don't give a shit. It's like a throwback to simpler times here in the States, back when people were too busy keeping the family alcoholics from getting everybody killed to worry about what you were up to, with your sneaking around at night and painting crosswalks on the freeway and whatnot.

Have we really made progress in all these years? Are you shitting me? Mexico's a reliable supply of drinking water away from overtaking us as the place to live for free-thinkers and the bold of heart. Don't say I didn't warn you when you're seeing whitebread families from Iowa on the news, getting caught trying to sneak across the desert into Mexico in the dead of night. I give it about five years.

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