Kat, I hate to break this to you, but everything you know about Dudley Moore and Kirk Cameron? Flip it. Arthur 2: On the Rocks? Flipped. Your Mike Seaver from Growing Pains poster? Flip. That. Shit. We got a real Christmas in Australia situation going on here.
Going forward, all Dudley Moore related matters will go directly to Kirk Cameron. All official Kirk Cameron business is now under the jurisdiction of Dudley Moore. Sean Astin stuff will continue to go to Sean Astin, unless Elijah Wood says otherwise. However, the magnetic poles of the Earth have been reversed, so Morgan Freeman will need to re-narrate March of the Penguins to reflect the change.
If you have any letters addressed to D. Moore or K. Cameron, please place a strikethrough on their names and write their corrected titles above the address field, followed by RE: LIKE FATHER LIKE SON. Also, the rapture has been postponed until God can finish watching the last half of this movie, so he can be sure that when he calls Kirk Cameron home to receive his heavenly rewards, it’s not actually Dudley Moore’s soul hiding out in Kirk Cameron’s body trying to scam his way into a free golden harp and halo.
The really unfortunate thing about all of this is how much hate mail I’ve now accidentally sent to the wrong person. Listen to me, Jason: Mike Seaver is a little shit, and don’t you forget it. I know I won’t.
You know what would be really great, though? A little Sean Astin, all to myself. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have a tiny hirsute admirer bring me food and carry me up mountains and shit. That’s what’s terrible about this economy, if we’re really getting down to it. There are too few hairy handmaidens, because they’re all too busy trying to earn a living in a currency more universal than my disdainful praise and the glory of being in my presence. The low supply of human Giving Trees is forcing the price up, and I just don’t know how much more condescension I’m willing to dole out in exchange for groveling and chores. Then again, nothing’s worse than having to make your own second breakfast, Jason. Nothing.
Dudley Moore would probably do just fine as a personal Sean Astin, being rather small and hairy, but now that he’s essentially just Kirk Cameron’s personality wrapped in a weaselly British accent, I’m not really sure how I feel about bringing Jesus Christ into the equation. I mean, when I’m throwing up out the window of a car moving 70 miles an hour down the highway after a night of drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle, I don’t really need the person holding my hair back to ask me whether I’ve found my one and only savior. There is no savior for vomiting on the highway. No, what you really need in a pinch like that is Lindsay Lohan, the patron saint of public vomiting and vehicular misdemeanors.
Lindsay Lohan, as you know, went through a similar soul-switching and soul-searching experience. The great thing about having her as your personal hate-slave is that you never really know whether Jamie Lee Curtis’ soul is hiding out inside that messy ginger’s body. It’s comforting to know that someone in my life is going to be actively interested in my bowel movements, finally.
Kat, can I tell you a secret, here on the internet in front of everybody, that you have to promise to keep to yourself and never tell a soul?
Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis are actually both Jamie Lee Curtises (Curti? What’s the plural of Jamie Lee Curtis?).
People were right about Jamie Lee Curtis being born a hermaphrodite. But they were wrong about what kind of hermaphrodite. Her body is all woman—it’s her spirit that has a penis and vagina. And that freaky boy-girl bathing suit area of the soul is what gives her the ability to live in multiple bodies at once.
She’s essentially a Navajo skinwalker with excellent digestive health. Also, shame on you, Navajo skinwalkers. You think you can eat a whole bag of Krystal’s cause you got another body waiting in the wings? I got two pairs of pants, but you don’t see me cutting a hole in the butt just because I have a backup pair. Besides, that’s more of a summer outfit.
Anyway, after the events of Freaky Friday, Jamie Lee decided to stay inside of Lindsay Lohan, indulging her Chaotic Evil tendencies while keeping it Lawful Good in her own body. Sorry to break out the Dungeons & Dragons alignment chart, but you were going on and on about having a tiny Sean Astin, and it’s all just hobbits and orcs for me from here on out.
Also, hate to break it to you, but Sean Astin? Jamie Lee Curtis this whole time. Also, Obama. Anybody who eats Activia® yogurt or watches A Fish Called Wanda is opening a door to their bodies for Jamie Lee Curtis to waltz in and inhabit. And you know how often A Fish Called Wanda is screened in the White House.
Jason, honest estimate, how hard will John Boehner cry when he learns the country is being run by a penis-vagina spirit? I’m going to keep my guess conservative with a Potomac River’s worth of tears. He will single-handedly solve the water crisis facing much of Appalachia’s poor. Telling him this news will do more good for the world than Jimmy Carter and charity: water combined. Journalism wins again!
Natural resources aside, this penis-vagina spirit is great news for our nation. First of all, what better way to fix our economy than to be led by someone who starred in the financial masterpiece Trading Places, providing by far the most accurate view of Wall Street and its many misadventures. I wonder if its possible to get the spirits of Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy into the bodies of the Secretary of the Treasury and chairman of the Federal Reserve? It would be so much cooler to listen to those economic updates from Ben Bernanke’s bearded visage if they were being spoken in Eddie Murphy’s voice. Plus, he has extensive experience in playing many roles all at the same time. This seems like an obvious choice.
There’s another great advantage to having a penis-vagina spirit in charge of the executive branch. It’s about time we got some real balanced perspective on reproductive health. We can’t just let those feminazis pass rules mandating baby-murder.
The only thing better than having a man in power is having a man who can appeal to the lady-types with his vagina spirit. Jamie Lee Curtis will help their weaker minds understand the importance of having uncomfortable periods and being pregnant whenever a man decides to have sex with them. It’s for the best, despite the penis-vagina spirit’s questionable acceptance into the Kingdom of God.
Actually, the more I think about it, the more this is bothering me. I wish the true spirit of Kirk Cameron were here to tell me whether Our Lord Jesus would be accepting of the penis-vagina spirit of Jamie Lee Curtis. This is one of those situations where you have to pray on WWMSD, also known as What Would Mike Seaver Do.
My God, Kat—are you Nutty Professor II: The Klumps-ing the office of the Secretary of the Treasury? And are you daring to suggest that we Norbit the chairman of the Federal Reserve? While we’re at it, why don’t we just Doctor Detroit the whole goddamn House of Representatives?!
I, for one, welcome our new spiritually dual-gendered Jamie Lee Curtis overlord. God knows Kirk Cameron wouldn’t know how to rule with a penis-vagina. He’d be so busy passing restrictive and ignorant laws governing the feminine aspects of his own body, he’d barely have time to Norbit his own Klumps!
Time management is key for any penis-vagina spirit leader. Not having time to Norbit one’s own Klumps is a recipe for trouble, and I don’t mean the kind of trouble eating a few cartons of Activia yogurt can get you out of.
I think the real lesson here, Jason, is that you can’t put Kirk Cameron in charge of anything. Mike Seaver’s life was a sad tangle of troublemaking and bad decisions, and if we’ve learned anything here today, it’s that actors are exactly who they play on film.
My ultimate goal is to become the perfect vessel to be possessed by the dual-gendered spirit of JLC. I’m working hard to get lean, square-jawed, and extremely regular. Reviewing this trailer with you has been super fun, but now it’s time for my True Lies Striptease Workout.
Oh, and don’t lose heart over your Skinwalker jeans. Summer’ll come soon enough.