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.

The Fred:11 Phenomenon

Are you seeing Fred:11 in your sleep? When your mind is completely blank and you turn the corner, is this what you encounter? Is someone trying to send you a message?

If any or all of the above are true, there is still help available. Here are a dozen suggestions that will help you survive The Fred:11 Phenomenon:

1. Cut down on your Muscatel and Wild Irish Rose.

2. Cut back on your number of doobies.

3. Pull the plugs on your digital clocks until 2013.

4. Stop calling The Psychic Hotline.

5. Cut out Oprah and Dr. Phil for a while and watch nothing but war movies.

6. Get rid of that wristwatch and start asking complete strangers what time it is.

7. Stop reading the Fred Fortune blog.

8. Burn all your top hats.

9. Get a girlfriend.

10. Get a boyfriend.

11. Get a life.

12. Get lost.

╥

The poop and nothing but the poop.

OK, I just got back from "vacation" and found out that all hell had broken loose around here while I was gone. It took me a little while to figure out the truth because, like Earth, Mars is filled with nothing but lies and deception ever since the Grays and the Reptilians took it over. Before the bubble-heads and the lizards took over this section of the solar system, Earth was on its way to becoming a paradise and Mars was already one. But I don't want to talk about the Grays and the Reptilians. I'm always harping about the Grays and the Reptilians. And I don't want to sound like a broken record, either, so let's leave them both out of this. I want to talk about F. M. Mudd and the Illuminati and shit like that.

First of all, Farnsworth had my permission to post on my blog but he didn't have my permission to create and post an unauthorized video of me and Red Mouthpiece, using stills and audio from our gig in the Red Room. He was supposed to write about whatever he wanted to write about and then post it here but, like most people from Earth nowadays, he can't spell worth a damn and he knows virtually nothing about grammar. So, he did the video instead and posted only the video. That's OK. The Fred & Red comedy team got some free publicity and now we're booked at Think-A-Holic Lounge, if we can ever hop a roving wormhole again and learn to how steer it. I showed Red the promo and he laughed his ass off and I didn't even know he had one.

Continuing with this story, let me undo some more myths about what's been happening at the Cydonia Concentration Camp since early July. First of all, I wasn't "on vacation". I was busy bottling ancient sea water from one of the gorges here on Mars, for use on a gourmet cooking show that Liz and her buddy Farnsworth are putting together for American television, using the old Nazi TV studio where I did my five Martian Broadcasts. I gathered the salt water for Liz who promised to discombobulate my ass and cancel my time-travel ticket if I didn't. That would have meant pain and poverty and possibly death for me so, naturally, I grabbed a case of empty Coca-Cola bottles left over from World War II and headed for the salt water falls.

Furthermore, the Illuminati, who actually wrote the text of the last post here on a wireless laptop connection from the island of Malta in the Mediterranean Sea back on Earth, are full of day-old dog turds. How dare they edit and re-post a copyrighted item from my blog? The sonzabitches must have used Blog This! Anyway, Cydonia is not only big enough for me and Farnsworth M. Mudd, it's got plenty of room for my new pal Red Mouthpiece, too, whose on-stage insults roll off me like water off a duck's ass. So, F. M. Mudd and Red Mouthpiece and me, Fred Fortune, are the new Allies, if you will, versus the new Axis comprised of the Illuminati, the Grays and the Reptilians. World War III, here we come.

Additionally, Mars Broadcast #5 was ruined by my sudden inability to communicate. I've never been at a loss for words in my entire life but all of a sudden nothing came out. In fact, there weren't even any thoughts in my head. I've been told before that my mouth isn't always connected to my brain but I thought people were just being mean to me because they think I look like the love child of Groucho Marx and Charlie McCarthy. Boy, is that queer. Anyway, I did manage to cough and blink a lot before Farnsworth and Red told me it was time to find a hobo to pickpocket somewhere and call it a day. So, that's what I did.

In closing, let me state the fact that Farnsworth is a real human being from Earth, like me, not an astral body like Red Mouthpiece. But no one has a picture of Farnsworth and he refuses to be on camera. He said he's a "behind the scenes" person. I have virtually no social skills anymore and couldn't convince him to have his picture taken by the PC cam but he did allow me to draw him. When he saw the results, he tried to lay a haymaker on me but I sidestepped it without even thinking and pulled a fresh crueller from my cardigan pocket and offered it to him in exchange for being allowed to post his image here.

Farnsworth claims he's never, ever been to Think-A-Holic Lounge but I swear he looks a lot like somebody I've seen there before. I'll just assume he's lying his ass off because that's what he did for a living on Wall Street before he got dumped here by the Grays. Believe it or not, he looks a lot better pictured here than he does in real life or at Think-A-Holic Lounge and he damn well knows it. In real life, Farnsworth M. Mudd looks like the love child of Eleanor Roosevelt and Stan Laurel. Poor bastard.

Fred & Red Do Cydonia

Fred took a little vacation and left his "pal" Farnsworth M. Mudd in charge of things until he gets back. So, naturally, Farnsworth went apeshit and whole hog in the unauthorized file-sharing and video-pirating department.

If we were Farnsworth, we'd start looking for a new place to hide out. Cydonia will no longer be big enough for the both of them. So, you'd better get your upwardly-mobile butt out of town before sundown. Hell, Fred was right. Never trust an ex-Wall Street commodities broker who wears penny loafers.

And just who are we? Hmmphh! Who in the hell do you think we are?

"Fred & Red" Do Cydonia

Author's Note 04-20-14: Due to a lack of interest, including low blog traffic, zero ebook sales of "The Four Bloggers of The Apocalypse" and no feedback, when feedback was available, Fred & Red never did Cydonia. So they didn't. That's right, the comedy team disbanded before their first gig. Then Fred Fortune went solo. So he did.

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.

Viewing Tip: If you're using headphones, turn the volume way down before starting the video. If you're not using headphones, turn the volume up before you start the video. Blog Admin Update 6-6-13: Hey, Google, stop deleting our videos and making us re-upload them. Try dumping some hateful and filthy content for a change. That way, you might clean up your own image, which is desperately in need of a moral and visual face-lift. So it is.