Archive for September, 2009

Kalifornia Burning

September 15, 2009

KaliforniaSo Manolo managed to lose the Chevy at the next junction. I couldn’t risk going to the airport now. My meeting with Karl would have to wait. Kalifornia was krumbling around me, and if Paul’s suspicions were on the mark, someone – or something – else was out to get me. I had to lay low for a while and reassess the situation.

Everything I’ve learned in life comes from bodybuilding. You don’t stop. You never give up. You push on through the pain barrier until you’re hurting and bleeding and almost destroyed, and then when you think you’re about to die you look around and you see that you’re the last one standing. You’re the winner. It takes guts to be winner.

But the scale of what’s going on at the moment is just too much. Kalifornia, the Golden State, is turning into hell itself. The budget deficit was $20 billion this summer, and my advisors are telling me that it will reach $40 billion by the next. And I know what I’m going to be forced to do, and I know that it’ll just make the situation worse.

State services will have to take cuts. Teachers and firefighters will lose their jobs, prisoners will be released early from jail, and some of the poorest and most vulnerable in Kalifornia will have their benefits slashed. CROM help us.

All I wanted to do was build hydrogen fuel stations and give you universal health care, goddammit! And now some bastards want to drill for oil off the coast near Santa Barbara… what the fuck am I supposed to do? The state needs money and those evil pricks are dangling it in front of my face! EEEYYYAAARRRGGGHHHTM!!!

Maybe Paul was right. Maybe someone is gunning for me. But who could it be? And why? They’re destroying my super smash-hit box office movies. They’re destroying my state. And with every passing day they’re destroying my chances of becoming President of the Universe in 2012. What the fuck do they want from me?

There is only one thing to do. Manolo is still driving, taking the side streets back to the house in case we meet our friends in the black Chevy again. I turn to him.

“Manolo,” I say.


“Pray with me.”


“In silence.”

CROM, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you will remember if we were good men or bad, why we fought, or why we died. No, all that matters is that two stood against many, that’s what’s important. Valor pleases you, CROM, so grant me one request, grant me REVENGE! And if you do not listen, THEN TO HELL WITH YOU! EEEYYYAAARRRGGGHHHTM!!!


The Road To Rove

September 14, 2009

The Road To Rove

So I am on my way to the airport and then off to Florida. Rove has a home there and we are going to meet and discuss the campaign. Karl’s really insistent about keeping this whole campaign business very hush-hush. I’m sitting in the passenger seat in one of my more low-key rides, smoking a cigar and doing Sudoku while Manolo drives.

The thing that not a lot of people know about Karl is that he works best at night, shrouded in darkness and secrecy, listening to the sound of rain and thunder, and the frightened screams of innocent children that he’s recorded and transfered onto vinyl. He’s the slimiest bastard alive, and I need him on my side. I don’t have a choice.

But there’s something else. Just before I left the house I’d gotten a call from my old buddy Paul Verhoeven. I like Paul. He’s a simple guy with simple tastes. He’s into big guns and tits, and he’s very open and honest about it. For a guy trying to make a living in Hollywood, that’s very refreshing.

“Arnold? It’s Paul. Can you talk?”

“Sure buddy, what’s up?”

“I just got the news. The fucking bastards are remaking Total Recall.”

“Paul, buddy, don’t be ridiculous. No one’s remaking our super-smash-hit box office movie Total Recall. I mean, think about it, I’m not even dead yet! And what the fuck are they gonna call it? Total Remake? HATM HATM HATM!”

“Dude, listen to me. They’re doing it.”

“Who’s doing it?”


“So who’s behind it?”

“I don’t know. And no one’s talking. Spielberg, Lucas… no one’s returning my calls. I gave them Sharon Stone’s tits in 35mm and they’re my best friends. Now I need something from them, and they don’t know me. Bunch of fuckers.”

“Paul, relax. It’s just another shitty remake. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not just another shitty remake. People are keeping their mouths shut because they’re scared. Someone’s got to them.”

“You’re being paranoid. Who the hell would do something like that?”

“My guess is it’s the same bastards behind the shitty Terminator TV series, and the new shitty Terminator sequels, and the impending shitty Predator reboot. Fucking McG. Fucking Rodriguez. They’re just tools. This is just the beginning, Arnold. They’re gonna do it to everything you’ve ever made, everything you love and hold dear to your heart. The Running Man, Commando, Red Heat, Conan…”

“No. Not Conan…”

“Someone’s gunning for you, pal. You’ve done something to piss them off, and now they’re letting you know. You’re at the center of it all, baby. This is all about you.”


“Arnold, you still there?”

“Yeah Paul, sorry, still here. So what do you think I should do?”

“Nothing, yet. We need to find out who these bastards are. I’ll keep making calls and asking around. Someone’s gonna talk, sooner or later.”

“All right. Be careful.”

“I will. Watch your back, pal.”

“Thanks buddy.”

The conversation is still weighing heavily on my mind, because Paul is the last person in the world to be spooked by anything. I once saw him face down a gang of heroin mules in Oaxaca with nothing but a broken mescal bottle and a hooker’s stiletto high heel. Something doesn’t feel right.

The Dodge is fast approaching a red light up ahead. “Manolo – don’t stop – run the light.”

“Que?” Manolo asks, making puzzled eye contact through the rear-view mirror.

“Run the fucking light.” Manolo speeds through the intersection and I turn to look over my shoulder to see if anyone is following. I’m surprised to see a black Chevy Blazer accelerate to follow us through it.

I take a deep pull from my cigar. What the fuck is happening?

Blazing A Trail

September 11, 2009

Blazing A TrailSo today I get a phone call from Lou Ferrigno. I am really glad he does not hear so well because I am always with the giggling while on the phone with him. I swear, the man sounds like a big burly Elmer Fudd.

“Hi Awnowld, this iws Lou.” he blurts out.

“Lou, who?” I ask, like I can’t already tell.

“Lou FAWIGNO!” he says, louder this time like I’m the one who can’t hear.

That voice! I go to pieces. Some ash from the Cohiba Behike that I’ve been smoking falls onto my custom cut Hugo Boss jacket. Scheiße!

“Whas so fuwnny Awnold? I cawn hea you lawfing.”

Damn. I forget  he can hear a little bit now since hearing aids are going to the digital, or something. I always feel a little uncomfortable when Lou pouts. Last time he caught on that I was making fun of him I felt so bad that he talked me into a trip to China to watch the Special Olympics.

Trying not to sound too distracted while still brushing ash from myself: “Oh, sorry Lou. I’m just watching Kindergarten Cop. Did you know that aside from being one of the highest paid supersmashhitboxofficemovie stars of all times, I can also mix it up and do comedy? It’s amazing, really…” I now get up from my desk and begin to take my jacket off. That fucking oaf, this suit cost more than his cochlear implant. EEEEYYYYAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHTM!

I drape mein jacket over the bust of former Gov. Peter Burnett that sits in the corner of  the Governor’s office. Whenever Uncle Teddy used to come visit I would tell him it was Mark Twain.

“Awnowld, I was thinging the owther day abowt how you awre gowing to become the pwesident of the Univewse in 2012, and thewn I was thinging abowt how evewry prwesident needs a viwce pwesident…” kind of trailing off there, hoping I’ll catch his meaning.

After an uncomfortable pause: “Oh, um, geez, about that Lou…” I’m scrambling to make up something. “I’ve – I’ve already picked my running mate,” then, with inflection and sincerity, “I’m very sorry.” (I’m doing the emotionally empathetic bit I learned while filming Junior).

“Oh… you hawve?” he says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yeah, big guy. I’m sorry. Mebbe next time?” I’m really hamming it up now, baby talking to him like I do with Maria’s cat. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the office window. I immediately become erect. I begin cooing to myself in a quiet, soothing voice: “Arnold, mein Säugling, you’ve still got it.” I am now crooking the phone in my shoulder and flexing a curled bicep.

“Diwd you say somging Awnold?” Lou asks akwardly.

“No, not at all, Lou.” I say, straightening up and smoothing out my shirt. “Anyhow, Lou, I’ve got a very busy schedule, with ze budget crisis and all. I’m afraid I have to let you go now, the people of Kalifornia cannot wait.”

“Wha-” he starts.

“Illegal immigration and ze housing crisis!” I blurt out. I quickly hang up before he can start to object.

Lou Ferrigno, Vice President of the Universe? Can you imagine? Nobody would go for that. I mean, the man sounds fucking ridiculous. Can you picture what a joke that would be, going around everywhere pronouncing things all wrong with that stupid voice? HATM HATM HATM.

I am all the sudden very aware that I have never given a vice president any thought, or even who a good campaign manager might be. I begin to pace a little, becoming slightly less sure of myself. I look down and am disappointed to find that my erection is now gone.

I am reminded of my unprecedented blockbuster hit, Total Recall, where I start losing my grip on reality. Who can I trust? To whom can I turn? My thoughts start to drift, and I begin absent-mindedly chewing on the butt of my stogie.

I’m suddenly back in 1990 – on the set again in Mexico. That’s where I met Manolo, actually. I drugged him up and smuggled him back in to the country in one of the tires of my Hummers.

Now I’m seeing myself again in my trailer banging the Martian girl with the three titties. I smile as I once again see her paper mache brüste flopping up and smaking her in the face as I screw her…

Screw… SCREW!

By CROM! I suddenly know what I have to do. I reach into my pocket and begin to dial. The phone rings once and and is almost immediately picked up. I can hear heavy breathing on the other end and am already picturing his pasty pug face – ugly, like the Devil’s.

There’s no turning back now.

“Karl? This is Arnold. We’ve got a campaign to plan, baby.”

Think About It

September 10, 2009

Think About ItSo I’m launching a new initiative here in Kalifornia. With all the rampant wildfires our state experiences, the costs of rebuilding can be enormous. Insurance companies are hurting, and the cost of paying out expensive premiums on multi-million dollar homes is proving be a serious burden.

From now on, instead of rewarding people whose homes continue to burn, year after year – I propose this: we start rewarding those whose homes don’t burn. If we continue to reward failure with windfall insurance settlements, where is the motivation to not have your home go up in flames? We need to bring the innovation brought to our nation’s schools to bear to save our nation’s suburbs. We need to end the barbaric practice of predatory home burnings and start to reward those whose homes don’t burn.

We need to bring common sense politiks back to Kalifornia, and end this cycle of failure.


September 9, 2009

BarrySo I’m watching you Barry. I’m watching you very closely.

You look tired Barry. I bet you could really do with a cigarette right now, couldn’t you Barry? So I’ve got a question for you. What did you do with all the money that we gave you Barry? Did you put it into education? How about infrastructure? Did you use it to rebuild this country into what it once was, and what it still stands for? Or did you give it to your friends Barry? The ones who got you where you are today. Your very special friends. Where’s the money Barry? When are the troops coming home Barry?

Have you seen my movies Barry? I beat the crap out of bad guys. That’s what I do. It’s who I am. And do you know what you are Barry? You’re a bad guy.

You’re gonna get what’s coming to you Barry. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. One day.

Let me tell you something Barry. When I’m elected President of the Universe in 2012, I’m gonna make you answer. Not to me. To the people who voted for me. And on that day Barry, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.

You’re gonna pay for everything that you’ve done Barry.

Count on it.


September 8, 2009

GeorgeSo I’m watching you George. I’m watching you very closely.

Everyone’s forgotten about you George. All the bullshit you put this country, and the rest of the world, through for eight years. How does it feel George? I bet it feels good, doesn’t it? Playing cowboy at the ranch. Spending all your daddy’s money. You were planning those wars weren’t you George? You just needed an excuse. You never did find those weapons you were looking for, did you George? But you got the contracts. That’s the important thing. You got the contracts. Have you been to New Orleans recently George? How’s the weather there these days? I haven’t forgotten about you George.

Have you seen my movies George? I beat the crap out of bad guys. That’s what I do. It’s who I am. And do you know what you are George? You’re a bad guy.

You’re gonna get what’s coming to you George. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. One day.

Let me tell you something George. When I’m elected President of the Universe in 2012, I’m gonna make you answer. Not to me. To the people who voted for me. And on that day George, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.

You’re gonna pay for everything that you’ve done George.

Count on it.


September 7, 2009

TonySo I’m watching you Tony. I’m watching you very closely.

I know why you’re grinning like that, you little weasel. You and your boys write this dossier that says there’s loads of weapons in some place or other and we have to go start a war right now or some guy is going to use these weapons to kill us all. But of course the dossier is actually complete bullshit. David Kelly then tells some asshole journalist that the dossier is actually complete bullshit. That asshole journalist then tells everybody that David Kelly said that the dossier is actually complete bullshit. David Kelly then dies in strange circumstances.

Have you seen my movies Tony? I beat the crap out of bad guys. That’s what I do. It’s who I am. And do you know what you are Tony? You’re a bad guy.

You’re gonna get what’s coming to you Tony. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. One day.

Let me tell you something Tony. When I’m elected President of the Universe in 2012, I’m gonna make you answer. Not to me. To the people who voted for me. And on that day Tony, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.

You’re gonna pay for everything that you’ve done Tony.

Count on it.


September 4, 2009

HopeSo this charred and blackened dumbbell is a symbol of hope. Just as the phoenix rises from the ashes of death and destruction, so too will the good people of California. We will honor our fallen heroes. We will rebuild our broken homes. We will come together as brothers and sisters in the face of adversity and we will stand tall. Sleep easy California. This is my watch. That is all.


September 4, 2009


So a few days ago my good buddy Banksy Moon put his gloves on and took a stroll around the doomsday seed vault we’re building in the Arctic.

It’s a precaution in case Kissinger goes home wasted and stinking of pros one night and accidentally pushes the big red button he’s got installed in his bedroom. Paranoid fuckweed. He still thinks we’re fighting the Commies.

I keep trying to tell him that today it’s ugly brown guys with beards and a penchant for comedic stupidity, as portrayed accurately in my supersmashhitboxofficemovie True Lies, but what can you do? He’s getting too old to change his ways, plus only a fucking lunatic would wanna get on the wrong side of Kissinger. We do our best to keep him out of trouble, but one day, shit’s gonna get real. So that’s why we’ve got a seed vault in the ze coolerTM, HATM HATM HATM!

And no one knows this yet, but Manolo’s managed to smuggle in a secret stash of buds, stogies and hardcore pornography! EEEYYYAAARRRGGGHHHTM!!! I mean, seriously, what the fuck else am I gonna do come the apocalypse when I’m cooped up in there with geeks and nerds talking about their stupid seeds. Bunch of choir boysTM.

My Fake-Dead Buddies

September 4, 2009

My Fake-Dead BuddiesSo I was being read the news the other day, and it turns out that that pyramid-scheming Ponzi artist, Bernard Madoff, is dying of cancer in jail.

HATM HATM HATM! Sounds just like my former good buddy Ken Lay, right? He’s about to go to jail for massively defrauding the good subjects… people of Kalifornia, and dies of a heart attack just before going to ze coolerTM forever.

And you know the worst part? Ich was somehow dropped into the meatgrinderTM even though the only Enron I know is that lunatic Enron Hubbard who created Sighingtology! EEEEYYYYAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHTM!

So anyway, Ken’s about as dead as Red Sonja is Best Picture material. The schwein is alive and well on the Bush ranch in Paraguay. And he owes me money from last month’s poker tourney. Fake-dead bastard, I should’ve known better.

So I’d only just stopped thinking about how Lay and Madoff were probably gonna become fake-dead buddies, banging hispanic jailbait and owing me money for the rest of eternity, when the news told me Bernie was actually doing just great, and that the whole cancer thing was just BULLSHITTM.

HATM HATM HATM. Media, you guys sure are getting really good at this, it’s compelling shit!

So anyway I’ve booked a ticket to Paraguay for March. I’m gonna get some stogies for the kids, kick Lay’s ass, get my money back, and then give it to Bernie as a moving-in present.