Euro Already Losing Ground to Scooby Bucks

002 is proving a bleaker year for the united European economy as the new Euro Dollar lost ground to the Paramount’s Kings Island Scooby Buck at the close of the market Friday.

The Scooby Buck, a currency bearing the likeness of the Hanna-Barbera Great Dane and accepted only within Paramount’s Kings Island theme parks, has reportedly been rising steadily with the onset of a film version of Scooby Doo coming summer of this year. At the same time, arguments over the Euro Dollar and the recent failings of the stock market have only served to drive down the value of the new European standard coin.

“It’s not surprising,� said Columbia University Professor of Economy Merton Scheff. “The European market has been separated all of its history. It’s a bold move more political than economical to develop and accept a currency that crosses boundaries. Factor into that the contrasting safety of a theme park currency, where homelessness is non-existant and the issue of unemployment usually just means you don’t have to spend another hot day in that lousy Yogi Bear suit.�

Added Scheff: “Plus, have you ever turned on The Cartoon Network? That goddamn dog is always on there. Maybe he owns the network or something.�

In an effort to combat the weakening Euro, associates of the European Union Organization have suggested several ways to raise prominence of the new united Europe. One is the world’s largest coaster, the Crusade, which if constructed will be the world’s largest and most dangerous coaster. Unlike American coasters, Euro Union representatives promise children will be able to ride just like adults.

Another proposal winning acceptance among the heads of the united European countries is mascot designed to warm up the appeal of Europe to outsiders. The mascot, Queen Mum, will be adorned in the flags of all the European countries and look exactly like Britain’s Queen Elizabeth, except for the much larger head. Mascot designers have said that physics prevent duplicating such a head in a mascot uniform.

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Have you ever seen Tom Cruise slying around town, trying not to be recognized? Well, if you live in one of the piss-poor excuses for a town that aren't Los Angeles or New York City, it's not likely you have. But if you do live in the regular world I do, you probably have. The sunglasses, the hat—it's all a disguise. There's a very attractive celebrity under that stuff!

Because celebrities are often actors or performers in some way, they have an innate ability to disguise themselves. You can't teach that kind of stuff, and it's good we already know it because no one does teach it. Celebrities know that putting on a hat shields the hair area and the forehead from being recognized—and the sunglasses? They expertly hide the eye area, which is important place to be seen so a celebrity can be recognized for their famous features. If you ever see a celebrity in a movie—and you probably will—wearing glasses or something, you'll notice they'll always take them off so the audience can say, "Hey! It's (so and so)!"

The reason for this is that normal non-celebrity people cannot see a celebrity in real life without storming them like a rampaging rhino. That's dangerous enough, and if there's more than one it can cause a riot. How would you like to be standing there, famous and all, and all of a sudden be swarmed by a couple hundred ravenous fans? Well, it's not gonna happen to you. But for celebrities, it sure sucks. That's why they wear the stuff they do.

For you novices out there, I'll give you some quick tips for going "in cognito," as we celebrities call it: The hair and eye areas need to be disguised. I've seen some celebrities disguise themselves with facial hair, and if you're as famous as J-Lo it's a good idea. But really it's a mistake to spend a lot of time and risk doing yourself permanent facial damage just to cover your chin and nasal ridge. Unless you're really famous for your chin, like Jay Leno or Popeye, it's not going to make a difference. Hair and eye areas. I repeat: Hair and eye areas.

I remember one time, this should tell you how fantastic an in-cognito artist I am: I was being followed into a grocery store once by a lunatic fan/bill collector. There's not a hat in the store, and all the sunglasses are sold out. Anybody else would've panicked and signed the autographs/summons papers. Not Clarissa Coleman. I made a quick disguise out of a box of Kellogg's Cornflakes and some Fruit Rollups—I literally had to eat the eyeholes out of my "glasses," and I was picking cornflakes out of my hair for hours. But I sure as hell got out of that store without signing anything. An expert? If I can say so modestly, fuck yeah.

If you're wondering what all this has to do with anything, it should be obvious by now: Since I'm no longer going to be using these skills on a regular basis as a big-time celebrity (having walked away, by choice, from the spotlight) I decided I would pass these skills onto tomorrow's generation of stars. For a price, of course, I'm not some good-hearted Gandhi giving it away for free.

The classes will be $30 a day, or $60 per hour. This is all based on how much money I think you'll spend on it. And don't go asking for acting lessons, because I've been ordered by a judge not to teach any more acting classes for money—apparently it constitutes fraud in this state. So all you get is the disguise lessons. It's just like the old expression goes—if you're going to act the part, dress the part first.

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The American people should thank the inventor of the remote control. We should thank our fat asses off. Because if it weren't for the remote, we'd have to get up off the couch every time something crappy came on TV, which means we'd all have bionic Teflon knees by now. And I don't know about you, but I like my current knees just fine.

Before the invention of the remote, Americans had to get up off their big, fat asses to change the channel every time something crummy came on, which led to the modern trend of watching whatever is on for hours regardless of quality. Beaten down and bitch-slapped by the repressive lack of technology in those days, Americans slouched away their meek little lives in front of such stultifying fare as Ted Hammerslut's Big Band Breakdown and The Russians in the Cushions, both of which were huge ratings hits in the 50's because TVs came from the factory set to that channel.

During World War II, those ingenious fucks known as the Nazis developed the first remote control technology, which they utilized in the design of a robotic doorman that was used to heil Hitler a cab when he was visiting Nazi central headquarters in Berlin. Due to the crummy technology of the day, the robot didn't work very well and after decapitating Hitler's mother-in-law in 1943, it was given the German medal of honor (the coveted "Big Bastard") and retired to a furniture showroom in Dresden.

Early attempts to adopt the Nazi remote technology for use in television sets were unsuccessful, as the remotes would channel-surf on their own looking for reruns ofThe Three Stooges.

The first successful television remote was developed by the Zenith Electronics Corporation in 1950. Called the "Lazy Fuck," the device was attached to the television by a long wire, and was used less for controlling the TV than it was for tripping crabby housewives in hilarious ways all across America. Though a huge hit among unhappily married men all across the country, overall the unit did poorly due to its bitingly accurate name.

In 1955, Zenith sort of improved on their invention with the creation of the "Flashmatic," a small device that looked exactly like a flashlight but wasn't because it said "Remote Control" on one side. Viewers aimed the Flashmatic at one of four light-receptive cells positioned on the corners of their television screen, allowing them to turn the set on, change the channel up or down, and explode the television. Some considered the lack of an "off" command to be an inconvenience, but forward-thinking Zenith executives imagined a day when Americans would never turn off their televisions, making unsightly "off" knobs a garish eyesore. The main purpose of this innovation, however, was to draw attention away from the Zenith's exploding feature, which made tidy profits for the corporation due to repeat business from customers with poor hand-eye coordination who blew up several television sets a year.

Eventually the Flashmatic had to be phased out since on sunny days the set would flash channels randomly for a few minutes before exploding, and in 1956 Zenith televisions killed half the residents of Arizona. The Flashmatic was replaced in 1957 by the Zenith Space Command, a revolutionary new remote technology named to appeal to small boys and the insane. The Space Command used an unpowered remote which contained four small aluminum rods. When the buttons on the unit were struck violently, preferably with a xylophone mallet, the rods would produce inaudible ultrasound tones that were then picked up by vacuum tubes hidden inside the television set.

The Space Command worked like a charm, a shitty, useless charm, and was a big hit among the tech-savvy and expectant mothers who soon realized that if they stood close enough to the humming set, they could see their babies. Unfortunately, after several years of lawsuits from families claiming birth defects and complaints from dog-whistle enthusiasts that their sets kept exploding, Zenith decided to discontinue the Space Command in 1959. For nearly two decades Americans were plunged back into the darkness of throwing coffee table knick-knacks and snack items at television sets in hopes of jogging the channel knob.

The modern remote made its debut in 1980, with current units using gamma radiation to perform tasks as disparate as setting a VCR's clock or cooking a Thanksgiving turkey faster than a microwave. Research found the gamma rays caused attention deficits in children and obesity in adults, but it was a small price to pay to not have to watch CHiPs anymore.

In 1992 MTV debuted a gameshow called Remote Control, which was of no consequence to anyone beyond the fact that it fills up three lines of column space.

Over the last twenty years, countless new remote-controlled innovations have hit the market, changing the way we live forever. From the "Bitch Be Quiet" human silencer to the remote-controlled "Woody," few can deny that remote controls are here to stay. And why not?

Well, I'm waiting. I'll expect an answer by Monday.

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