Re-Release of E.T. Celebrates Spielberg's Vanity

he world said a collective "huh" March 22^nd when director Steven Spielberg hamfisted his cutesy 2-hour plush toy commercial E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial back into theaters to commemorate the 20^th anniversary of Spielberg's vanity project.

In the movie, a flawless alien midget is left behind on earth by a superior alien race who have never heard of a head count before departure. The alien befriends foul-mouthed American kids and endorses M&M-style products and Pepsi before faking his own death in an elaborate intergalactic insurance scam and escaping in a flying bike, leaving the evil government agents to wonder: Why didn't he do that much earlier?

The film is a re-telling of the familiar friendly-alien-meets-asshole-humans story. "Re-telling" being Hollywood code for updating old scripts with modern slang and improving the special effects by leaps and bounds.

Spielberg started out in Hollywood making enjoyable adventure movies with low marketing tie-in potential such as Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Having invented the summer blockbuster, Spielberg went on to cut himself a slice of the pie with E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial. He would later perfect action figure merchandising with Jurassic Park, after the dismal failure of his The Color Purple doll line.

To keep his product fresh for a new generation with more hyper-sensitive parents than his own, Spielberg digitally replaced rifles in the arms of federal agents with walkie-talkies. The director also changed the audio for a line spoken by Dee Wallace in which she tells the children not to go out dressed as "terrorists." Since no one in our current generation hates and fears terrorists, Spielberg wisely changed it to "hippies."

Also removed from the film: Scenes in which E.T. tries to eat a cat—better done on Alf; a scene where E.T. and child friend Elliot get hammered; two scenes where Drew Barrymore does a line of coke (interfered with Pepsi tie-in); and instead of building a phone out of household items, E.T. e-mails his alien friends using free webmail at Hotmail.com.

Digitally added into the film: Child actor Henry Thomas is replaced with modern acting wunderkind Haley Joel Osment; David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson from TV's The X-Files have a quick cameo; and E.T. is digitally altered so he's always wearing shorts and a bow tie, so as to dispel questions about his genitalia today's more mature generation will be quick to ask.

"I lacked the vision and technical skills to make the perfect film I wanted to make at the time," said Spielberg in a press conference the media were court-ordered to attend. "Now, thanks to modern technology and 21^st century revisionism, I can do it."

If E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial proves profitable the second time around, Spielberg has other plans on the table. He reports it recently occurred to him Jaws would have been much more fun if he had replaced the shark with a big, cuddly bear ala TV's Gentle Ben.

Also, said the director, Schindler's List would have been more effective if the Jews had won against the Nazis.

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I've not had any luck finding much information about myself online. Ever since www.heresyourdaddy.com went defunct and website operator kittyfan became unreachable, the web has become a very barren place for Clarissa Coleman information. Sure, I can find some Who's Your Daddy episode guide information on some lame websites, but none of them have ever kept current information about yours truly and a lot of them continue to spread that vicious urban legend that I was killed by Son of Sam, even though his murder spree was about 3 or 4 years before our show even came on. Believe it or not, I haven't even found anything on the commune, so if you're reading this it's by fate or luck or the grace of God or you surely must be part of some marketing audience or something.

I got desperate enough for some word, any word of me online that I did a search for "clarissa coleman nude" and, with baited breath, awaited the search results. You believe nothing?!? I mean, come on! It's not like I ever posed for any nude photographs or anything, but aren't there legions of internet weirdoes out there cutting and pasting heads onto bodies just for larks or fetish purposes? I swear I went to one site and saw the head of Benji on Charlize Theron's topless body. Don't I rate like Benji?

I would say I have fairly realistic goals. I'm not trying to compete with Alyssa Milano, I know she's the queen of nude internet searches, and I let her have that. I'm not asking to challenge anybody's spot, but isn't there one person out there putting my head on some Playboy playmate body or something?

I even went to some rare spots like www.seemyexgirlfriendnaked.net to see if a former flame was looking to score revenge against me for all the wrongs I did. Nada! It's like none of my fans want to see me naked bad enough to cut and paste my head into some badly-lit shot. I get e-mail all the time telling me I should cum and see Britney's secret blow-job video. I'm not asking for some blow-job video, I'm just talking a tasteful little topless number of some kind. It doesn't have to match. Hell, it doesn't even have to be pasted, take some girl who kind of looks like me and tell everybody it's me. She could be Asian even, as long as somebody made the effort.

Nothing says you're off Hollywood radar when there's nobody trying to fake your nudity on the web. That's how you know Martha Raye and Phyllis Diller are hopelessly past their prime. I think I even saw a site with faked Dionne Warwick nude pics. At least I hope they were fake. Brrr! That's gonna keep me up tonight.

It's true, it's not impossible to see me naked. There's a little bit of nudity in that B-movie Orgasma on the Moon I did, and there may still be copies of my butt circulating from that Christmas party at NBC a couple years ago. Hell, stumble into my apartment at the wrong time of the night and you can catch me wearing nothing but my sunglasses and Jiffy Pop-style disco hat—not that I'm inviting any of you freaky fans to do that. Oh, hell, yeah, I'm inviting you to do that. Just once, just so I know you're out there.

You can tell it's starting to bother me just a bit, meaning a whole hell of a lot. I'm a pretty former child star and I've got a body like a brick tithouse so somebody out there should be fabricating images of me, even if just for their personal enjoyment. If I don't start seeing some evidence of that soon I may take it upon myself to launch my own website. I'll get my friend Ernie, the web-genius (he manages the very popular Dancing Bob Saget site) to help me with the HTML and Photoshop a few pics for me. Right now I'm leaning toward Halle Berry's body, but the only photos I could find of her show her humping Sling Blade. I'm not sure that's the kind of image I want to project, but hey, I'm open-minded.

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That's right, I said it: America's fat. You won't see Red Bagel challenge the readership like that, will you?

It's high time America took responsibility for its big fat weight. Doctors will tell you maybe you're eating too much and not exercising. Genetecists will tell you it's because of a fat gene, but what they mean is "fat jeans"—your ass has to squeeze in them. Ha. That's one for Ramrod.

What is the secret behind our obesity? Is it that we've become complacent watching TV and living high off our conveniences? Like the ancient Roman privileged classes, are we feeding off the sweat of underclasses and foreign labor? Never getting out to plant and reap our own crops, to pull our own chariots, to have to put on tight-fitting slave tunics instead of circus tent-style togas? Well, of course that's not it, I wouldn't have phrased it as a question if it was. No, it's something more insidious.

The Illuminati! That's right, you humps, I'm into the big boy conspiracy stuff now.

There is no fat gene, and you are eating too much, but that food is packed with surplus calories. And those non-fat cardboard rice cakes you eat, only to gain more weight? Pure re-constituted lard, dipshit. Don't think they can't get to you, too. They get to everyone.

Americans are being fattened up, like candy-seeking German kids wandering a forest. Except no witch is going to eat us, with some rare exceptions. We're not being made to be meals, although good luck with that rather on-the-nose conspiracy theory, Johnny Smallpicture. If you're wondering what other purpose it serves to fatten up America, I've got two words for you: Militia.

That's right, minute men. That's the two words I implied, hopefully you got that. America's is the only constitution anywhere that guarantees the right to form a militia—other countries may think their constitution does, but of course nobody ever actually reads the constitution but a small group of politics and history nerds and an even smaller group of revolution-era handwriting fetishists. Look again, Pierre—no militia for you.

If you were the Illuminati, poised to take over the world and yet stuck with this "militia clause" in the handgun-filled United States, what would you do? Well, scratch that, you'd probably spend all your money on lottery tickets and marry your cousin. But the Illuminati has a serious group of strategists, and if you can't make them lie down and roll over like the French, you make them too fat to fight. Here, have some more Twinkies. Sure, they're low-fat. Unless you count the additives we injected at the factory! No, they're just for coloring! Ha ha ha!

I wasn't really laughing at you that time, just pretending to be the Illuminati. But that's what's happening, America. The Freemasons are sitting behind their brick-built desks and cracking up as your scale spins further and further to the right. Pretty soon all those precious handguns won't mean anything—you won't even be able to get your fat fingers through the little trigger circle thing, whatever it's called.

Even our right-wing reactionaries are getting too fat to do anything. Rush Limbaugh used to weigh a trim 240, now he's ballooned up like a… balloon. And you don't want to see Ted Nugent lately.

As for me, I'm in prime physical condition. This is all muscle. Well, yeah, some of it's not, but I'm working that off as soon as the weather warms up. I urge you all to get into shape, and arm yourself heavily. See you at the gym/gun show.

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