Random Acts of Ismael:

Fishing for Trouble


Warning: This Random Act is not for the faint of heart or intellect.  If you fear you fit into one or both categories, please skip this article.


            Okay ladies and gentlemen of my own personal playground—the world, wide web—I’m back today with a message of love, triumph and perseverance that is sure to pluck at your heartstrings and reinvigorate all of your beliefs in romance, destiny, and—oh my god, I can’t even type out that load of crap.  Seriously, this uselessly strung together set of angry words is the result of a newspaper headline that metaphorically slapped me in the face, grabbed me by my eyes and pissed in my mouth!  What story am I talking about?  What headline could have affected the great me in such a devastating way, one might ask?  Well, the answer is simple—Amy Fisher and Joey Butt-a-fu*ko are back together!  Isn’t that just peachy?  That this tripe off a dog’s ass made the front page of any newspaper is perhaps the biggest insult of all, but for those of you who are not familiar with the saga that is Amy Fisher and Joey I-can’t-spell-his-name-nor-will-I-f***ing-bother-trying, I will now provide you with a quick recap.

But before that, since some of what I’m about to say may be considered libel, I will be peppering this commentary with jokes because parodies are protected by freedom of speech laws.  First joke: Why did the chicken cross the road?  To f*** that teenage egg on the other side.

The year was 1992 and an affair between then seventeen Amy Fisher and then way-too-old-for-her Joey Unpronounceable-name, was exposed when young Amy shot Joey’s wife, Mary Jo in the head.  Amy claimed that she and Joey had been involved for some time and that she shot Mary Jo in an attempt to free Joey for herself—Joey claimed he was innocent of the affair.  She went to jail, he stayed with his wife, and the world moved on.  Now, 32 and 53, Amy and Joey, both separated and then divorced, were seen dining together, apparently rekindling the relationship that Joey claimed had never occurred in the first place. 

Second joke: Knock, knock.  Who’s there?  Bullet to the face.  Bullet to the wh---bam!!!

            Now I have and will readily admit that I have an attraction to chicks with guns.  They’re hot, what can I say.  But my fantasy extends only so far.  It extends to the I-shoot-you-aliens-dead realm or the I-can-put-out-a-cigarette-with-a-shotgun realm or even the don’t-u-hurt-my-man realm.  My girl-gun fetish pretty much ends when a girl shoots someone I know in the face. 

What kind of guy would want to risk that?  One wrong move, one screw up and—bang!—you’re Two-Face from Batman.  And why would she want to be with someone who doesn’t care that she shot his wife in the face?  Granted it was twenty years ago, but time can’t heal that deep a wound.  Think about this—if I shot a your pet—no, a stray, mangy alley cat that happens by your yard and eats your leftovers—in the head just because I could, would you let me take care of your dog?  No, right!  And while Mary-Joe didn’t look much better than a mangy stray cat to begin with, I can’t imagine agreeing to marry that and then turning into a limp d*ck as she gets shot in the face!

            Now, it’s been said that this entire thing is a publicity stunt to promote a possible upcoming television show for Joey.  I don’t know which is more disgusting, that he would actually attempt to rekindle this relationship or that he would pretend to just to get his name back in the papers.  I just hope for his sake that she knows about this television deal, because if she doesn’t and that’s why he’s with her he’s in for a small caliber projectile to the face—I hope.  Sources close to the couple say—they say nothing because they’re afraid of being molested by one and shot by the other. Take care all of you out there in webland and remember, if you’re going to date a fifteen year old while your married, make damn sure she doesn’t have a gun permit. 


For feedback, visit our message board or e-mail the author at imanzano@g-pop-net.