Friends Cast Members Change Legal Names

n a move labeled practical by some, good business by others, the cast members of NBC's hit Friends have saved years of fruitless optimism and professional disappointment by changing their legal names to the monikers they're known by on the popular show.

Series stars Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox-Arquette, Lisa Kudrow, Matt LeBlanc, Matthew Perry, and David Schwimmer, will here by be known in future professional projects, and their personal lives as, respectively, Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler, and Ross. The declaration by a judge made the decision legally binding Friday.

"Why waste years that could be spent getting used to your typecasting denying the inevitable outcome?" said a spokesperson of the William Morris Agency, whose name we didn't bother to get. "Kim Fields wasted valuable years before changing her name to Tootie. And most people assume Todd Bridges changed his name to Willis long ago. It just makes it easier on everybody, and you can capitalize on that fame without needing to remind people, 'Do you know who I am? I used to get a million-plus an episode!'"

"It will make it a lot easier to do the last season of Friends at any rate," said NBC executive Brian Norris. "We spent a bundle a few years ago just on the typeface to 'Courtney Cox-Arquette' alone. Now we can just say starring Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler and Ross. Now people will have more brain space to remember which one is Will and which one is Grace."

Of course, according to various reports, all members of the Friends cast are hopeful about future projects in film and other series after the show's finale next year. But seriously, with their legal names at last intricately linked to their characters, the serious money for commercials, infomercials, state fair and car show appearances, and other forms of necessary income will be much easier while searching for elusive post-Friends success.

With luck, according to some insiders, Matt LeBlanc will be free of his Friends obligation in time to secure a spot on the fifth installment of Fox's Celebrity Boxing program.

Even with the name change, some members of the cast are adamant about making the jump from television to movies.

"It's not easy, no one's saying that, but it has been done before by quite a few popular actors," said Matthew Perry in a recent interview. "George Clooney is one example. Johnny Depp, another successful film actor. And Michael J. Fox, before he returned to television with Spin City. Don't forget Tom Hanks. Although Bosom Buddies was never really a big hit or anything… hmm… Will Smith, the Fresh Prince himself. I guess, uh… Alan Alda? Shit. Why can't I think of more people?"

Some fellow actors are not applauding the Friends cast's decision.

"You can't simply give up your humanity, who you are, to what people perceive you as. In the end it's not going to improve your success, you're just grasping to retain what had once been the peak of your fame," said Mallory from Family Ties.

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Greetings, communistas. First and foremost, I must apologize for my absence and the hellish disrepair this site has fallen into in said absence. I had an unfortunate run-in with a Taco Bell Volcano Box and have spent the past few months in the loving care of the Shanesly/Rupert Valley Regional Memorial Hospital. Some might argue that four months is a longer than necessary stay for a common case of food poisoning, but just like the anti-drowning safety labels on all the bottled water sold in town say, we like to be careful here in Shanesly. And really there was no harm done, as I’m sure my birthday party magician’s guild insurance will more than cover the expenses.

The story of how all of this happened is far too graphic for young and impressionable readers, but suffice it to say that Volcano box lived up to its name and turned my box into a veritable volcano, overflowing with flaming human effluvia, if by box you understand I mean my asshole. I realize the term is usually reserved for a woman’s vaginal area, but I imagine gay guys or somebody somewhere calls a man’s ass a box as well, so there you go. Here at the commune headquarters, the inmates were left to run the asylum while I was gone, and I suppose it comes as no great shock that the inmates did a real half-assed job of asylum running. It doesn’t look like we’ve published much, but the staff somewhat made up for that by adding a wet, rotting Nerf refrigerator to my back yard, which apparently has a pack of ferrets living inside of it. I’m afraid to ask where that thing came from, or why Nerf ever made flexible, spongy refrigerators. Whatever the reason, now it’s a collapsed floppy mess in the back yard that squeaks menacingly whenever you walk near it.

On the bright side, several more commune regulars wandered blindly back into the fray during my absence. Vernon Hooper accosted Raoul Dunkin at a local Denny’s, mistaking him inexplicably for Rick Santorum. Freelance freeballers Ella Dipthong and Chals Woodland both sent in columns via the teletype system for deaf people that Mitch Kroeger stole from the old folks’ home he had been pretending to be old to live in, rent-free, for the last few years. In other words, we’ve got all your old non-favorites. When it comes to re-configuring the commune, corralling the old staff has proved to be much easier than expected, since they all seem to be drawn to no pay and ill repute like fat, juicy moths to a house-sized bug zapper. Getting them to do their goddamned moth jobs once they’re incapacitated and twitching on the ground is another story entirely. But at least they’re fumbling their way through the door, even when I’m not here to explain that the doggie door is for dogs only and that Mountain Dew Code Red in the fridge is most certainly not for the dog, as evidenced by the jittery red sprays of dog urine everywhere.

I even received a telegram from Red Bagel the other day, which simply read "HE’S COMING." That’s literally what it said, apparently Red still believes in the power of referring to himself in the third person. The telegram was most impressive for the fact that no telegraph services exist any more in modern times, apparently Bagel had to email the message to some local chunkhead, who then typed it out on some telegraph paper he bought at a garage sale.

The excitement around here would be even more palpable if I wasn’t the only one who remembers who Red Bagel is.

Anyway, it’s great to be back. I’d love to say this will never happen again, but Taco Bell has recently added a Dorito-shell taco to their menu, and we both know it’s only a matter of time before that thing is making babies in my stomach. Until then, we here at the commune will endeavor to provide the high degree of timely journalism you are in no way accustomed to from the commune. Set your eyeballs to "stunned"!

Zincerely,
Emil Zender

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Dear commune:

I'm always fascinated by cultures different from our own. It's nice to know that some things are universal—like smiles. Everyone smiles, in every place on the earth! Isn't that cool?

Another thing is Santa Claus. Sure, we don't call him by the same name everywhere, but everyone believes in some version of Santa Claus, right? Which is why I'm writing to you. Can you tell me more about all the various versions of Santa Claus out there? It sounds exciting! Thanks!


Nat McCauley
Whitewash, Washington


Dear Nat:

Judging by the fact your letter's written in crayon you're either a child or mentally handicapped, or just a full-grown man who makes very poor shopping choices. Either way, we think it best not to feed your delusions about "Santa Claus."

It is so typical of Clausians to assume everybody everywhere believes in Santa Claus and the power of his gift-giving. If you are a child, we cannot blame you, but it's time you knew that Santa Claus is only one theory of how the gifts get under the tree, and not even the oldest.

In some African cultures, popular theory is that Black Monday, a large death-dealing African tribesman with a sackful of gifts, sneaks in through the chimney (or under the door, if your home doesn't have a chimney) in the night, unsheathes a machete and deals death to the wicked white families. Their possessions are reclaimed and distributed to the African people, and that's how the gifts get under the tree.

In Japan, "Santa" is actually a 50-foot robot that transforms into a walkman and leaves itself under the tree. Fortunately, once one robot has completed its mission, other robots construct themselves for delivery to other children around the world.

As for ourselves, sometimes we're Santagnostics and don't know what we believe. But usually we rely on the idea that "Santa Claus," as you call him, is just pure energy that divides itself among us all, and that by closing our eyes and collectively picturing sugar plums dancing and other Christmas things, we can generate gifts under the tree without buying them. This hasn't happened yet, but it's usually from a lack of good will and Christmas cheer and therefore does not constitute a lack of existence of this energy.

Hope this has illuminated the subject and you're no longer tied to the ridiculous idea of a man coming down your chimney to empty his sack rather than fill it. Merry whatever!

the commune

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Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for the lump of coal in your stocking. Perhaps you should have thought about that before sending us all those forwarded e-mails asking us to add our names to the bottom.

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