The Bum Who Would Be King

No Shit Fred Went Missing

Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

For information about this video click here.

Fred Went Missing

Don't hold your breath. We don't expect him to return to Mars. Or to Earth, either.

Fred's Nightclub Debut

Hey, just because Red Mouthpiece is now an emcee at Retro Comic Spotlight is no reason for me to stop doing comedy at "The Red Room". Maybe Cydonia isn't Vegas but nobody up here gives a damn about Wayne Newton or Elvis so being the only stand-up comic from Earth pretty much makes Cydonia my town. 

Do I get paid for these gigs? Nope. My "pay" is that I get to live. If you can call it "living" to be kept by Reptilians against your will under the ruins of a Martian capital. But, hey, it's better than busting my chops about conspiracies that no one else gives a shit about. So it is.

And, hey, I know my mouth is too close to the microphone and that's why you hear all those "thumping" noises and shit. Everybody knows that by now. Cripes, they know that in Russia by now. You think it's easy being on stage in front of a bunch of drunken Reptilians and homeless, abducted, Martian Underground bums like me and their jaded, heckling dates? Like I said before, I'm not a "Vegas-ey" kind of guy. So I'm not.

Little Writer Rat

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Yeah, this is Fred Fortune, not Farnworth M. Mudd, the big-time Benedict Arnold who's secretly been this little writer rat all along. What do I mean? Take a look at the animated gif. file to your left, the one I found in the hard drive of a new-generation laptop computer I saw hidden under Farnsworth's cot when I was snooping this afternoon for pork rinds and Power Bars that he hadn't opened up yet.

Y'know, I can't stand finishing other people's half-eaten stuff anymore. I'd rather eat those stinky Martian mushrooms and that green canal goo they call "algae" here in netherworld Mars and suck on those bitter red rocks for ancient salt anyday than taste slobbered-on, fingered-up, second-hand junk food.

When I asked Liz about these ebooks in the underground cafeteria up here, she roared and gave me a backhand. When I woke up an hour later I was staring at the right big toe of one of Liz's Reptilian grunts who guard this little Martian Sing Sing and I asked him if Farnsworth was really an ebook author.

"He is now," he grunted. "He and the warden are splitting the ebook royalties from your buddy's ebook sales on Neptune. They're rolling in like flies take to shit."

"He's not my buddy," I grunted back as I pulled myself up and into a cafeteria chair. "Are they any good?" I asked, doubtful if this big green-and-brown oaf had ever read a book in his life, in any language.

"Hell, no," he replied, roaring so loud he sounded like Godzilla mauling the hell out of Tokyo. "He can't write worth a damn. Or spell, either. That's why he'll be a millionaire before the Martian year's out."

And that's all I can remember because I think I fainted. The human mind can only stand so much unreality before it shuts down. One thing I do know for sure: the next time I see Farnsworth, he'd better leg it away from me as fast as he can because I can no longer be held responsible for my actions. Anyway, that's what I plan to tell the jury at my murder trial.

Fred Sez Happy St. Patty's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day from Fred and Farnsworth

I saw this unforgettable movie as a kid and I wanted to embed these YouTube clips for St. Paddy's Day. Too bad the sound only comes out one speaker on the top video clip, but thanks to the YouTubers who posted these. You said it, Disney 'magic" before computer generated images. Erin go Bragh.

Skeletons In The Trunk

Hi, folks. Fred Fortune. No, that's not a picture of me in a "cooking sherry" state of mind. That's a framed sepia photograph of my great grandfather Frederick Fortune from the old country. What old country? Your guess is as good as mine. My family never talked about the old country and I never asked about it. I had other fish to fry.

Hell, I was too busy running Kool-Aid stands and collecting old pop bottles for the two cents deposit and then too busy getting sick on my dad's cigars and then chasing skirts all over Peoria, Illinois, where I did most of my skirt chasing and moving and shaking before I lost it all in Vegas. Then I began roaming the alleys of big cities like New York and Philadelphia and Chicago, and even Pittsburgh and Cleveland, before I settled down in that old, abandoned 1965 Rambler Ambassador in that alley just off Hollywood & Vine. The place I called "home" and the place that L. A. County 9-1-1 called 1965 Ambassador Way.

But that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is that I'm back. Again. Which means that I'm not in a "cooking sherry" state of mind or any other "state of mind". Besides, I don't like sherry. But that's all there is out here on the fourth planet, right now, to get a "buzz" from. You know, I think my great grandfather might have been Irish because when I was just a tyke I once heard him say that sherry tasted like "fairy pee". A boy never forgets shit like that. Nobody but a Mick would have the balls to say that about a leprechaun.

Now, where is that little imp, Farnsworth M. Mudd? I haven't seen him since I found those spy pics of me tending bar on the dark side of Earth's moon. OK. So, I lied about my past. What's it to ya? Whattaya gonna do about it? That's what I thought. Nothing.

Anyway, I found this vintage photograph of my great granddad in an old steamer trunk near the underground cafeteria up here. The same trunk where Farnsworth — once again playing the Benedict Arnold role — apparently found those old snapshots of me tending bar. Spy ring, my ass. Mr. Farnsworth — whose name is once again "Mud" — took those two pictures, himself, while I was setting him up with a Glenfiddich (ooooh, a single malt scotch; it tastes like French Dip and feels like Drano in your stomach but, ooooh, a single malt), a Labatt Blue for a chaser and a big bag of hillbilly pork rinds to munch on. What a pretentious combination. Little lyin' shit. No wonder he was such a damn good trader on Wall Street.

Doppelgänger Spacecast

Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

This is a spacecast. Use headphones for best audio.

Related Posts:

You Wish

Fred Fiend

Fred Fiend 3-D

Fred Calls Home

Hi, this is Farmsworth Mudd, Fred Fortune's "conspiracy theory" co-conspirator. Hmmm, that doesn't sound right. Oh well. Hey, Fred didn't want to post this video after he made it but I talked him into it. He said he looked and sounded goofy on camera and I told him that he always looks and sounds goofy — especially on camera — and that he should just sit back and enjoy it.

When he didn't slug me for that little wisecrack, I knew that he got the picture and that posting this for him wouldn't be an act of betrayal on my part. That's a relief because being a commodities broker on Wall Street made me feel like a Big Bad Apple of some kind, even though I lived in Queens.

You know, Fred Fortune might be the strangest person I've ever encountered in my life and he probably is a homeless con man and an interplanetary thief and an intergalactic felon — as well as the Earthling you never want to become — but he's still more interesting than anybody I ever knew from The Big Apple. So he is.

 Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

My Christmas Secret

Hi folks, Farnsworth M. Mudd, here. Yeah, I'm still on Mars, "right under the Cydonia face" as Fred Fortune told you. And so is Mr. Fred Fortune, by the way, although he's in somewhat of a "cooking sherry" state of mind at the moment, if you get my drift. So, I decided to take advantage of that.

Fred accidentally blew up planet Earth on November 18th, which is no big loss, really. At least, we've been told that Fred blew it up and that he was set up as a patsy by the Reptilians who hate Earthlings more than anything. And Fred walked right into it. Walked right into it. They played him for the fool he must really be. More's the pity. But I have my doubts if the destruction of Earth actually occurred. Fred may think otherwise.

Yeah, nothing's changed here on Mars. Still, no one here really misses Earth but our gravitational relationship with the sun hasn't been altered in the least. Still, so much for Earth and it's seven billion "me first" crumb snatchers. I'm with Fred on that score. They did it to themselves. But Fred Fortune will be blamed for it. Well that's his problem. That's probably his Karma catching up with him. Of course I believe in Karma. I wear penny loafers with real pennies in them for good luck and I never "cross steel" and I never go out of somebody's house through the same door I used to go in. So I don't.

Well, as you all know, Mr. Fred thinks I look like the love child of Eleanor Roosevelt and Stan Laurel and he knows that really gets me PO'd, especially when he tells the whole solar system that crap. And, if you'll remember when I did a recent post here on September 20th, I said, "Wow. I'll get Fred for that smart aleck remark. And he knows it, too. So, let there be no surprise there."

Well, here's the payback. The two pictures below. Yeah, I know they're "grainy". If you had a ring camera on your pinky and you took a snapshot with it, this is what the blowup would look like. State-of-the-art photo development doesn't really exist in deep undercover work. That's Hollywood's shitten lie. Even Fred Fortune will tell you that. OK. After I posted them, I saw that they looked like hell. Then I felt guilty about plastering Fred's grainy mug on his own blog behind his back. So I put them on a Christmas bulb, like Fred once did. But I didn't have time to engrave nothin' formal on it. Ho, ho, ho. Hey, take notice to the fact that Fred's wearing a Santa Claus hat in the second picture. I guess they must celebrate Christmas on the moon, too.

No, I won't tell you where I got these pictures or whose palm I had to grease to get them. Let's just say that, before Mr. Fred Fortune was nabbed by the Pluto Police a few years back, he was a bartender on the dark side of Earth's moon. He drank more of the stock than the customers did and that's when he had to go on the lam. Before they fired his ass. Not because he stole stuff from the U.S. Government PX up there. Lyin' little shit. Anyway, I hope Fred learns a lesson from this post. The lesson is an old one and it goes like this, "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

Or, better yet, "If you're a liar and a cheat, just keep your mouth shut." Yeah, I like that one better. By the way, if you click on the three pictures on this post, you'll open my Christmas presents to you. Don't tell Fred that one of them is a "plug" for me.

Merry Christmas from Mars!

Nobody Listens

Video Copyright © 2011 by Michael Casher. All rights reserved.
(Yeah, I forgot the "All rights reserved." notice on the video. But it still applies.)

Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

Mars Broadcast #7

Fred Fortune's Mars Broadcast #7

Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

Another Word From Our Alternate Sponsor

Fred Fiend 3-D

Oh, yeah. Now ain't that some shit? It's bad enough that, instead of a cool Doppelganger, I apparently have this evil anti-me running around the universe, pretending to be me. I only suspected that last year when I did a post about this Fred Fiend joker. Now the little anti-me prick is in 3-D.

And, no, that doesn't mean you can see him in 3-D at the movies. What the term 3-D means on Mars (and just about anywhere else in the Milky Way Galaxy) is that whatever it is, it's gone multidimensional. Criminee, that means I'll have to go back to hitching rides on roving wormholes in order to find this nasty negative nemesis and kick his ass.

I mean look at him. Just look at him. They say I look like the love child of Groucho Marx and Charlie McCarthy. Talk about queer. And I say Farnsworth M. Mudd looks like the love child of Eleanor Roosevelt and Stan Laurel. But he really does and he damn well knows it.

Well, this Fred Fiend freak looks like the love child of Elton John and Felix the Cat, so I certainly hope he's not real. Hell, I don't want Fred Fiend to be real. Hell, I didn't want Elton John to be real, either, although I never had a problem with Felix the Cat. Hey, don't laugh. It's no laughing matter when your nemesis goes 3-D on you, no matter what he or she or it looks like.

Now go away and leave me alone. Can't you see I've got my own troubles?

Mars Broadcast #6

He's baaaack. Yep, Fred never gives up, even if he should. And this time he's back with a little help from me, Farnsworth M. Mudd, his partner in homeless crime. It's the least I can do, helping Fred Fortune expose the alien abduction conspiracy for the whole solar system to see. Wow. What a crime.

And, yeah, this drawing of me is better than what I see in the mirror so I'd rather look like this than the love child of Eleanor Roosevelt and Stan Laurel. Wow. I'll get Fred for that smart aleck remark. And he knows it, too. So, let there be no surprise there.

OK. Now, be a pal and indulge Fred. He's not always right (in fact, he's hardly ever right) but he's got more guts than you and me put together. Unfortunately, most of his gut is pure Mallo Cup. But who gives a crap? Shit, now you got me swearing. I hope you little bottom-feeders are worth it.

Fred Fortune's
Mars Broadcast #6

Author's Note 11-07-13: This video was uploaded by Michael Casher to Blogger. You can't watch this video at YouTube because it does not exist there. That is another Google redirect which is nothing more than a lie to get you to watch other videos at YouTube instead of the uploaded video on this blog post. This new uploaded format at Blogger was introduced in November 2013 by Google without notice to anyone.

Now a word from our alternate sponsor.