NASA Meets with Toyota at JPL to Tap Problem for Possible New Propulsion System for Space Probes


Pasadena, California --

Hoping to tap Toyota’s acceleration problem for a possible new propulsion system for the space probe program, engineers from NASA met with Toyota at the Jet Prolusion Laboratory (JPL) in Pasadena, California today to discuss a solution to both their problems.

“We’re hoping for a win-win situation,” said James Hawthorne, Chief Engineer at JPL. “One in which through the exchange of technology, our space probes will be increase their acceleration rate exponentially and the Toyotas will be able to safely decelerate their vehicles.”

Currently, NASA engineers are conducting preliminary experiments in which they have replaced the engines on their Delta rockets with Toyota’s run away engines.

“The damn things worked!” said Mr. Hawthorne after a successful probe lunch. “The only problem is we still haven’t figured out how to shut the damn things off.”

After the JPL probe retrofitted with Toyota engines obtained a low earth orbit, NASA engineers’ celebratory mood quickly soured as they realized the probes’ engines could not be slowed, or shut down.

As JPL probe careened out of control, headed on a collision course with the International Space Station (ISS), Toyota engineers from Japan stopped taking pictures and bowed their heads in shame.

Once NASA and JPL engineers all took unsuccessful turns behind the wheel of the mockup command module [an exact replica of a Toyota 2009 Camry Sedan] of the space probe to veer it off its destructive path with the ISS, the final decision came to execute the self-destruct option.

“Unfortunately that feature on the Toyotas we purchased did not come with the standard package,” explained Mr. Hawthorne. “Due to budget cuts, NASA just couldn’t afford it.”

As the Toyota engineers from Japan consulted among themselves, drinking Sake, toasting one of their own that emerged from among the center of them wearing a white robe, rising sun headband and samurai sword, the American engineers from NASA and JPL quietly looked on.

To shouts of Bonsai! Bonsai! Bonsai! The brave engineer from a small village an hours drive outside the Tokyo prefecture proper got behind the wheel of the probe mockup command module/Toyota 2009 Camry Sedan as he attempted redirected the run away probe off its collision course with the ISS.

Advice on how to stop the run away probe was shouted out from every white coat, black frame eyeglass and pocket protector-wearing engineer at JPL.

“Put it neutral!” shouted one NASA engineer.

“Turn off the ignition!” yelled out another from Toyota.

“No, ” screamed still another from JPL. “Apply equal amounts of pressure on both the accelerator and brake at the same time. Just like we do here in California when we come to a stop sign.”

However, for all the leaned knowledge and efforts of his colleagues, the Toyota engineer from Japan could not hear a word shouted out above the din of the roaring uncontrollable engine as he sat helplessly behind the wheel of the car. Finally, in an absolute moment of desperation, he dialed 911.

“Hello, this is 911,” said a soothing calm voice of a female operator over his cell phone headset. “What’s the nature of your emergency?”

“I’m trapped behind the wheel of a run away mockup Toyota headed on a collision course with the ISS,” said the Toyota engineer from Japan, his rising sun headband partially covering one eye like a pirate’s eye patch, as he struggled to maintain physical control of the vehicle, which now broke free of its moorings. And despite not having wheels, vibrated about the laboratory floor causing the engineers to flee in all directions, taking cover under tables, jumping on desks and copy machines.

“I’m sorry, did you say a Toyota?” asked the composed 911 operator.

“Yes, a Toyota,” came the reply from the driver as he swerved, barely avoiding a coffee vending machine.

“Let me put you on with my supervisor,” said the still tranquil 911 operator. “He can best advise you on your situation.”

“Okay,” said the driver as he took out a laboratory table with Bunsen burners and beakers.

“Officer Martinez, here,” came a commanding male voice over the phone. “How may I be of assistance?”

“Myyy Toyotaaa…won’t stoppp,” replied the driver with a jittery voice, due to increased vibration of the car. “Pleaseee…helppp meee.”

“I know you’re in a life threatening situation,” quickly acknowledge Officer Martinez, instantly gaining creditability with the distraught driver. “But I need you to remain calm, okay?”

“Okkkay,” said the Japanese driver as he took out a copy machine.

“Now,” said the police officer, opening up a field manual, preparing to give out detailed instructions to the driver. “Have you tried putting the car in neutral?”

Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo

Keanu Reeves’ Advice to Sandra Bullock Puts Her Under 24-hour Career Suicide Watch

Hollywood, California --

Calling an impromptu press conference to announce her latest agreed upon movie deal – the third installment of the original ‘Speed’ movie series, which she first starred in back in 1994 and 1997 -- a somewhat dazed looking, visibly shaken and obviously emotionally distraught, Sandra Bullock slowly crossed the stage still dressed in her polka-a-dot pajamas, fuzzy bear claw footy slippers and miffed up hairdo with some help from two female assistants at both her sides. As she sat down at a green felt topped table with a single microphone placed in the center of it, amateur journalists, seasoned reporters and war hardened correspondents alike looked on teary eyed at what had become of America’s Sweetheart.

Sandra Bullock’s family, closest friends and even ‘Speed’ co-star Keanu Reeves earlier in the predawn hours of the new day had attempted an intervention, trying to convince her to voluntarily commit herself to a psychiatric ward at a local hospital, but she refused.

“Instead Sandra stormed out of the house in the middle of the night, calling her publicist demanding that she immediately set up a press conference,” said a close family friend. “We didn’t know she was that upset. Not to the point of committing career suicide by agreeing to do another ‘Speed ’ movie.”

“I thank you all for coming so early today. Especially on such short notice,” said Sandra Bullock speaking just above a whisper, her eyes appearing puffy and red, as if she had been crying all night along. “I won’t be taking any questions regarding the disintegration of my marriage…or the betrayal of my trust in humanity. Just about my decision to reprise my recurring role in the ‘Speed’ movie series with my good, loyal and true friend, Keanu Reeves.”

Just then an assistant reappeared on stage, leaning down to whisper something into Sandra Bullock’s ear.

“What?” said a somewhat bothered Sandra Bullock, before she slumped her head into her hands. “Oh God. Why me? Why me?”

“When we tried to have her involuntarily committed,” continued Bullock’s close friend. “But we were told by both legal and medical professionals that she had to pose a physical danger to either herself or others, first.”

Seeing Sandra Bullock’s condition worsen before her eyes, the female assistant grabbed the microphone, attempting to cancel the rest of the press conference. Following a brief struggle between the two, however, Sandra Bullock prevailed, regaining control of the microphone, and her press conference.

“No! I said I’ll be fine!” screamed Sandra Bullock at her assistant. “Are you deaf or something?”

After taking a few minutes to compose herself, wiping away tears, blowing her nose and repeatedly placing her head down on the green felt table, just to raise it up again and again, Sandra Bullock continued.

“Well, it seems my trusted friend Keanu Reeves – a man -- has betrayed me, too,” said an embittered Sandra Bullock. “Now he says he has a prior commitment and can’t do the movie with me after all. Isn’t that just so typical of a man, changing his mind like he changes his socks, underwear or lovers. Well, I’m going to prove to y‘all -- especially you men out there -- that I don’t need you anymore. I’ll make ‘Speed 3: Road Rage’ all by myself, so there. I’ll show you.”

Upon hearing of Sandra Bullock’s intention to make another ‘Speed’ movie, however, a judge immediately approved the family’s petition to have the disturbed starlet remanded into the custody of a psychiatric hospital for observation and evaluation.

“Allowing the alleged mental patient to make another installment of the ‘Speed’ movie series is all the evidence this Court needs to prove both mental and emotional instability,” wrote the judge in his decision. “And therefore, I rule the alleged mental patient presents a clear and present danger not only to herself, but especially others as well.”


Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo

‘Eclipse’ Stopped as Rob Pattinson Gets Acting Lessons from ‘The Count’ of ‘Sesame Street’ Fame

Sesame Street, New York --

“You call yourself a vampire?” asked “The Count” from ‘Sesame Street’ as he busted into Robert Pattinson’s dressing room trailer on the set of the latest installment of the ‘Twilight’ saga, ‘Eclipse’.

“What? Who are you?” rudely replied an alarmed Robert Pattinson as he sat up in his makeup chair, recoiling his legs from the floor as he took notice of a 3-foot Muppet vampire. ”What are you doing here? Security!”

As “The Count” circled Robert Pattinson, he pulled out from the breast pocket of his vest a handwritten letter of introduction form the director of the new movie.

As Robert Pattinson read the letter that instructed him to cooperate fully with the “pint-sized” vampire, “The Count” wasted no time in foraging about the dressing room trailer looking for the items he needed to transform “Edward” into a real looking vampire like himself.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said “The Count”.

“Well, actually no,” replied a now polite Pattinson as he attempted to fold up the letter and place it in his jeans, before “The Count” snatched it away from him with superhuman lightning fast reflexes. “I’m not really a vampire, you see. I just play one on the silver screen. I’m actually an actor. A proper British actor.”

“You need a widow’s peak,” replied “The Count” as he rifled through the dresser.

“What? Why?” said Pattinson as he rushed the dresser to check his look in the mirror.

“Because in ‘New Moon’, with your bushy eyebrows, a number of your loyalist fans complained that they couldn’t tell you apart from the werewolves,” replied “The Count” as he pulled out a Sharpie permanent marker he found. “Ah, this should do the trick!”

Before Pattinson could object, “The Count” was on top of him, drawing a black inverted triangular shape on his forehead.

“There!” said “The Count” as he placed the cap back onto the Sharpie, stepping back to admire his work. “Now you look more like me, a real vampire. Now for a cloak.”

“Listen,” said Pattinson as he moistened his forefinger, trying to rub off the black ink widow’s peak from his hairline. “I don’t want to look like you, or a real vampire for that matter. I have my own interpretation -- ”

“If that’s your interpretation of a vampire,” interrupted the “The Count” “Then it has been lost in translation.”

Opening up an old trunk that most have been left over from the vaudevillian days, “The Count” pulled out a canister of white pancake powder makeup, fangs, a black cloak and red diplomatic looking red sash with jewel encrusted insignia.

Quickly “The Count” threw the garments, accessories and white powder makeup onto Rob Pattinson.

The transformation was so stunning that both were taken aback by the visionary splendor.

“I can’t believe it,” said Rob Pattinson as he admired his reflection in the mirror, twirling about the dressing room trailer. Catching the air under his cloak, making it flow beneath him. “I look fantastic.”

“Not quite,” said the “The Count” as he removed his monocle, reaching up to place it over Rob Pattinson’s right eye.


“You competed me,” said Rob Pattinson as he began to tear up.

“No,” said “The Count” reaching out with one white-gloved finger, touching Rob Pattnson’s ice-cold purple lips. “Don’t cry. You’ll fog up your monocle.”

“How could I have known?” said Rob Pattinson as he continued to twirl about the room. “How can I ever hope to repay you?”

But as Rob Pattinson slowly stopped twirling, he noticed he was alone in his dressing room trailer again.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Rob noticed a Rose water scented business card in the foreground and picked it up.

“I thought it was all dream,” Rob softly spoke to himself as he raised the card to his nose, breathing in deeply its fragrant scent. Then turning it over, he noticed some writing on the back of it.

“Rob,” read the card. “Just don’t go out there and pretend to be a vampire. Be the vampire you were meant to be. And remember, I’m counting on you.”

After stuffing the card into the breast pocket of his vest, just like “The Count”, Rob Pattinson finally responded to the knocking at his trailer door.

“Are you ready, Rob?” asked the director. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…now,” replied Rob. “Be right there.”

A resolved Rob Pattinson rose up out of his make up chair a new man, and as he walked over to the trailer door, flung it wide open, he recalled the words of his friend, “The Count”: ‘Be the vampire you were meant to be.”

“Say,” said the director as he admired Rob Pattinson’s new look. “Looks like that vampire makeover by 'The Count' was worth it.”

Stepping out into the sunshine, Rob Pattinson suddenly yelled out: “It burns! It burns! The sun burns!”

Still hissing, Rob Pattinson covered his face with his cloak, before retreating back inside his trailer and into the old vaudevillian trunk.

“I hate working with method actors,” mumbled the director to himself, as he placed a speed dial call on his cell phone to “The Count”. “Come on, Rob. Kristen is waiting…I got some sun block?”



Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo

Dr. Phil Psychoanalyzes Sandra Bullock’s Marriage to Jesse James

Burbank, California --

"Okay, let me get this straight for the sake of my viewing audience that just tuned into my show," said Dr. Phil after taking a commercial break with his special celebrity guest, Sandra Bullock for some latent marital advice and using the time as an opportunity to ask a production assistant to fetch his reading glasses from his dressing room. "You consciously and willingly gave your heart to a man who was twice married and devoiced. And who had kids from both those two previous marriages, is that right now?"

Sandra Bullock sat quietly in her chair next to the host with her head down and her light brown hair covering her face from the prying eye of the camera and studio audience; however, not from the psychoanalytical mind's eye of a mental healthcare professional, as she nodded affirmatively to all of Dr. Phil's Spanish Inquisition style questioning.

"By the way, I'm sorry about having to take a commercial break all of a sudden like that, but I forgot my reading glasses in my dressing room," said Dr. Phil as he pulled out a pair of eyeglasses from his coat pocket and put them on his nose. "And though I usually don't need them -- to read a wrap sheet this long -- I do. Now where was I? Ah, yes...you consciously and willingly gave your heart to a man who...wait this has got to be a typo."

Dr. Phil paused. And looking over to one of his producers, he pointed to the sheet of paper he was reading off of.

"Nope, it's no a typo my producer tells me," said Dr. Phil struggling again to find the place where he left off reading. "Ah, here it is...you married a man that is named...Jesse James? Like in 'Jesse James' the outlaw, is that right now?"

Sandra Bullock again just sat quietly in her chair next to the host with her head down, nodding yes to all his questions.

"We'll be right back after a brief commercial break," said a confused looking Dr. Phil as he reached over to Sandra Bullock whispering into her ear.

"Now, you got to help me out here, honey," said a sympatric Dr. Phil. "You thought your husband's name was a pseudonym, right?'

"No," replied a still coy but now distant looking Sandra Bullock. "I knew it was his real name all along."

As the show returned from commercial break, Dr. Phil pulled back from Sandra Bullock with a strange look on his face; he continued his line of questioning.

"You consciously and willingly gave your heart to a man..." paused Dr. Phil as he stood up and walked over to the producer and said to him: "Y'all are pulling my leg here, right? That innocent looking thing sitting over there is America's Sweetheart; she couldn't possibly have anything to do with a man like that. Not consciously. Not willingly. Not no how!"

After a heated discussion, a red-faced Dr. Phil returned to the stage and sat back down next to Sandra Bullock, picking up right where he left off.

"You consciously and willingly gave your heart to a man -- on top of all this, mind you -- whose previous wife before you was a porn star, is that right now?" said Dr. Phil as he began writing down some notes. "A porn star, huh."

"And not just any porn star," surprisingly spoke up Sandra Bullock without being asked a question, using a low demonic raspy tone of voice. "But the totally hot looking, Janine Lindemulder. You know the one, Doc."

"You mean the one covered in tattoos?" asked Dr. Phil not taking any notice in Sandra Bullock's change of voice, at least not at first. "So I've been told by my mental patients."

"Is that right now?' Sandra Bullock said sarcastically.

"Huh, from porn star to movie star," said Dr. Phil to himself beneath his breath as he scribble away on his notepad underscoring, 'Patient now exhibiting clear signs of demonic possession."

"What did you sssay Doc?" asked Sandra Bullock as her head began to turn around 180 degrees.

"Oh nothing," nervously replied Dr. Phil, removing his prescription eyeglasses from his face so he could rub the upper part of the intersection of his nose where his eyebrows meet, as he visibly struggled to continue with his diagnoses of the troubled marriage of America's Sweetheart. "We'll be back right after these brief messages from our sponsors."



Copyright (c) 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo

Conan O’Brien Books ‘Big Stars’ on his ‘Twitter’ Show

Hollywood, California --

Not to be out booked by his chief competitor and airwave rival, Jay Leno, just because he does not have a late night TV show to call his home any more, Conan O’Brien has managed to attract top celebrities to his ‘Twitter’ show, which he conducts from a Potemkin Village like studio made of construction paper, cardboard cutouts and lawn furniture under a tree in his backyard – of course, he has failed to mention to his fans that follow him on ‘Twitter’ that they are all celebrity impersonators.

“Tonight my special guest is Robert De Niro of ‘Taxi Driver’ fame,” Tweeted Conan O’Brien to his fans. “That’s right. And he’ll be doing that ‘Are you talking to me’ routine from the movie too. Man, that just creeps me out every time I see that.”

As Conan O’Brien rises to his feet to greet his celebrity imposter he is shocked to see that is it the real Robert De Niro walking onto his makeshift set he has erected adjacent to his kid’s dollhouse, which doubled as the waiting guests’ green room.

“Wow!” said Conan O’Brien as he struggled to ‘Tweet’ and greet his famous guest at the same time. “You’re the real Robert De Niro, aren’t you? I’ mean, of course you are. Who else would you be? I mean have on my show, but the real actor? And not some cheap celebrity knockoff or something.”

“Yeah, it’s me, Bobby De Niro,” said Robert De Niro as he takes a seat on an aluminum lawn chair next to Conan O’Brien’s white plastic table, covered with colorful flower stickers of red, yellow and orange. “I heard you were in a little trouble…and it looks like I heard right.”

“Yeah…,” said Conan O’Brien stalling for time as he signals to his 12-year-old stage director, a neighborhood kid, to cut to a commercial break.

“But we don’t have any sponsors!” replies the stage director, removing a Popsicle from his mouth in order to speak.

“…about that,” continued Conan O’Brien his eyes fixed on a small shadowy figure that moved among the braches and leaves above his head. “Just a little trouble… here and there. You know how show businesses is.”

“You know, Conan,” said a serious sounding Robert De Niro looking directly into O’Brien’s eyes. “I once played a comedian talk show host in a movie with a setup similar to this but in a basement. He too was obsessed with – ”

Suddenly an acorn came flying out of the tree, striking Robert De Niro on the head.

“What in the hell was that?” said Robert De Niro looking from side to side before bending over to pickup an acorn nut from the ground.

“It’s that squirrel. It’s amazing,” said Conan O’Brien to Robert De Niro, both now looking up at the tree from their seats. “It’s like that Russian mystic, Rasputin. Rasputin incarnate. The thing just won’t die.”

“Have you tried rat poison,” said Robert De Niro, still attempting to get a peek at the squirrel from his lawn chair.

“Yeah, I even bought this pellet gun,” said Conan O’Brien, as he pulled out a BB-gun from its holster he wore under his coat.

“You mind if I give it a try,” said Robert De Niro as he strapped on Conan O’Brien’s pellet gun and holster to his chest.

Conan O’Brien tweeting away to his fans as fast as he could, “You guys won’t believe what Robert De Niro is doing in my backyard right now.”

As Robert De Niro walked up to the trunk of the tree, looking up, a vague little shadowy figure scurried high up to the treetop.

“See,” said a confident Robert De Niro waving his arms loosely about his side. “Just the sight of me headed in its direction was enough to scare it away.”

Suddenly, just as before an acorn nut came from seemingly out of nowhere striking Robert De Niro on the head again. In fact, hitting him in the exact same spot.

Robert De Niro, checking for blood with his hand, unbuttoned his jacket exposing the holstered pellet gun. Then looking back in Conan O’Brien's direction but not at him, he began to re-enact his famous scene from ‘Taxi Driver'.”

“Co-staring then child actress protégée, Jodie Foster,” tweeted Conan O’Brien from under the table.

“What? Are you talking to me?” said Robert De Niro addressing the squirrel as Conan O’Brien stopped twittering for a moment and the stage director’s Popsicle fell to the ground. “Are you throwing your nuts at me? I don’t see anybody else here but me.”

Suddenly, just as before again, except as if fired from a machine gun this time came a shower of acorn nuts, pelting Robert De Niro.

“Excuse me,” Tweeted Conan O’Brien. “I have go rescue my hero, Robert De Niro from a squirrel.”

Using the white plastic table as cover, Conan O’Brien and his adolescent stage director were able to reach Robert De Niro who was sprawled out under the tree under a pile of acorn nuts.

“Come with me if you want to live,” said Conan O’Brien, holding out his outstretched hand to a dazed and confused looking Robert De Niro.

“Maybe you’re just too close to the squirrel’s ‘Home Tree’ like in that James Cameron movie,” said a defeated Robert De Niro, suggesting that Conan O’Brien move his makeshift cardboard studio back a little away form the squirrel’s tree. “What do you say, Conan?”

Conan O’Brien, turning to his freckled faced stage director, said as he tweeted, “Looks like I should’ve went with my gut and booked that Joe Pesci celebrity impersonator instead.”



Copyright © 2008-2010 by Robert W. Armijo