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.

Cheney Comrade Injured During Hunt for Bin Laden

Arizona Border Patrol Installing Landmines

Serial Killer’s Neighbor: “He just wouldn’t shut up about serial killing.”

Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment

There's been a lot of fuss around the commune offices lately about the upcoming presidential election, and it's high time Omar Bricks weighed in on the action: I say Lil Duncan takes Ivana Folger-Balzac in four rounds. That's a controversial wager, I realize, but I hear Balzac's been betting heavily against herself under the assumed name of Flora Wackser and I've got it on good authority that she's going to take a dive in the fourth.

Even if the upcoming breakroom fight weren't fixed, I'd still be wondering if Balzac was going to be her usual invincible, dirty-fighting self, since she only started the "commune Republicans Club" to piss off the rest of the staff and isn't likely to put it all on the line defending the club's honor. Plus, the only other commune Republican who could get her back if Duncan pulled a knife would be Ted Ted, who's mad enough for a man twice his size but still remains listed as a generous three-foot four on his trading card.

Have you seen these things? Emil Zender's been printing them out on his home computer, a collectable set of the entire commune staff. They're like Garbage Pail Kids, only ugly.

Seriously though, If you haven't seen them yet, the cards are pretty sharp. They've all got pretty awesome embarrassing pics of commune staffers on the front with their vital stats on the back. Ted Ted's is hilarious since somebody somehow had a camera ready when they caught him humping that baby-CPR doll in the closet last month.

I'm in the deck too, of course, but the picture on my card's just an out-of-focus shot of me building a Loch Ness Monster decoy in my garage for that hoax last year, when I was planning on riding it across the East River and into the city like I'd made Nessie my bitch. They should have got a photo of that fuckin' thing sinking into the river like a lead weight with an asscramp and me getting that helicopter ride back to land, but I guess the technology's not quite there to have a whole video clip from the news playing on a baseball card.

Anyway, while we're on the subject, I might as well weigh in on the lame-assed presidential election itself. You know Omar Bricks doesn't waste a lot of time thinking about politics, but when I do I think this: It's time we elected Evel Knievel as the President of the United States. I'll wait a second for the reasoning behind this to become obvious to you.

First and most obviously, I can't vote for Bush. Bush is like the guy you knew in the fourth grade who would light his farts on fire, until he came across a set of flammable drapes and ended up burning half the house down. Maybe when Bush grows up he'll turn out to have real presidential potential, but for now I think we need to protect the White House drapes.

And I'm pretty sure I pantsed John Kerry in the seventh grade. According to office dickwad Raoul Dunkin, that's mathematically impossible, but I'd remember that sour mug anywhere. So no way I can vote for that guy.

Ralph Nader? Sounds too much like Darth Vader. No way I'm voting for some Star Wars geek, he'd probably blow half the budget funding research on the Force. Though I have to admit, I would pay good money to see a presidential debate where Nader does that little throat-pinchy gesture and the other guy drops dead. That would be pretty decisive.

But if Nader could pull that shit off, he probably would have done it last election so he wouldn't have had to spend the last four years working at that organic grocery out in Portland. So really, when you stop and think about it, Evel Knievel's our only good choice.

How hard would the vote be rocked if we had a debate where all the candidates had to out-stunt each other on live TV? I guarantee you some voter turnout for that shit. Let's see Bush or Kerry jump a motorcycle over a dozen school buses or a tank full of starving sharks. No need to take polls over who won the debate when the runner-up ran over his own pelvis or shattered his spine on national television.

And you can forget all this bullshit about purple hearts and who's got the balls to fight the war on terror, let one of those other guys strap a rocket to his ass and try to jump across the Colorado River. Not going to happen. So Knievel wins in a landslide, and he gets sworn in while surfing down a real landslide on a TV tray. Shit yeah.

The only thing that can stop him now is if he's already dead. I need to look that up.

Bricks out.

º Last Column: The Rundown
º more columns

As you may have heard from the local townsfolk, or from those smartalec kids who hang out in front of the TruValue over on fifth and Wayne, I've dedicated my life to a search for Jesus. For years I have searched far and wide, from the highest peaks to the deepest valleys, deep under the polar icecap and at the bottom of the mariana trench. I've looked in closets, I've looked under rugs, picnic tables and once even inside the girls' dressing room at a Foxy Boxing match. I've scoured the bus stops, the zoos and the trendy bars of our fair land and all of my searching has left me with but one question: Where the fuck's Jesus?

I mean, maybe I heard wrong, but he did say he was coming back, didn't he? I seem to remember something along those lines, maybe it was "Save my seat dude, I gotta whiz!" or maybe it was something a bit more poetic, but I was left with the distinct impression that he'd be draggin' his sorry ass back here sooner or later. And I'm about out of places to look.

Over the years there have been times when I thought I'd found him, but impostor Jesusi they were, every last one of them. Bogus Jesusitos. I was fairly sure I'd found him back in 1984 but then that guy ended up smoking all of my weed and sleeping with my sister, so I had to throw him out. I know, I know, whatever you do unto the least of my brothers, yadda yadda yadda. Well, in that case, Jesus got a Birkenstock crammed halfway up his ass that day.

And don't even get me started about latino guys named Jesus. I fell for that one a few dozen times too many and even spent most of the late 80's running guns down in Panama with Jesus and his brother Chuy. He may not have been a member of the holy trinity, but lord knows the real Jesus never saw that kind of money curing lepers and the blind and all that noise.

Probably my worst near-Jesus experience was when I thought I'd found him back in '79, but it turned out the guy was really the Phoenix Kindergarten Killer, that guy who was abducting all the little kids and filling Tylenol bottles with their teeth, then sneaking the bottles back onto the shelves at K-Mart. I very nearly had to do some jail time over that one, when the police discovered that he was making muppet dolls out of their corpses and putting on a live-action variety show in my basement. Hell, I just thought the savior had some strange friends, y'know? I mean, who questions the son of God, anyway? You want to end up out in a cornfield with your head on a jack-in-the-box or something?

I'm sad to say, it looks like my latest potential Jesus is turning out to be a big disappointment as well. No corpse-puppets or anything (so far) but all he seems to do is lay on the couch and watch Happy Days. I also think he's been chowing down on my Chips Ahoy while I'm at work, so unless he starts turning water to wine some time soon I'm going to have to ask him if he can stay with his sister.

Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of this shit. If Jesus was going to take this goddamn long, he could have at least phoned ahead to tell us not to wait up. Personally, I'm petitioning my church to change their daily prayer from "Our lord in heaven who art merciful and kind" to "Dude! You fucking fall in or something?" I suggest you do the same.

º Last Column: When's God Gonna Quit Bustin' My Balls?
º more columns