Friday, June 06, 2003

I have a really bad rash on my feet. Master Destiny (Emilio) made me stand in an 18-inch deep sewage puddle for four hours last night because I bought him purple grapes instead of green.

Thursday, June 05, 2003

Didn't really sleep well last night... Master Destiny (Emilio) kept on coming into the room ever 12 minutes to blast an air horn directly in my ear. I've got a piercing ringing in my eardrum right now.

Gotta run-- Master Destiny wants me to pick through Christina Applegate's trash to see if he can blackmail her into sex...

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

Oh man did I get it today...

Master Destiny (Emilio) read my initial post. He said that I did not fawn over him enough on it. So he made me repeatedly punch myself in the face until I lost a tooth. He also gave me a spinning muy-thai kick to the rib/kidney area and I'm peeing blood now.

Master Destiny-- you are so powerful and so great. When I look at you, all I can think about is how moving you were in St. Elmo's Fire. You are my Man In Motion.

A few weeks ago, after spending months kneeling at the feet of Emilio Estevez (star of Mighty Ducks and Mighty Ducks 2), I managed to crawl my way back to freedom. Needing money, I sent the following e-mail out to fellow alumni members of West Orange High School-- my extended family who I thought I could always count on.

Dear Fellow West Orange High School Mountaineer,

Hello. Please allow me a moment of your time to reacclimate myself back into your lives. It is I, Nir Zhavi, a fellow Mountaineer-in-arms who calls upon you– his spiritual and extended family– in a time of need. If you cannot immediately recall who I am, close your eyes and harken back to a time when school spirit coursed trhough your veins as you sang the lyrics that oh-so accurately have defined our generation... "Runaway train on a runaway track/ Runaway train never coming back."

Yes. 'Tis me, Nir! Your friend, Nir. Friend to all Mountaineers, Nir. The same Nir Zhavi who served as an inspiration to our entire school by overcoming so much with so little. Yes, this is the same Nir who scored the winning touchdown in the state sectional playoff game that captured for us– the fightin' blue and white– our 48th straight championship in a row. The same Nir who once saved former principal and current superintendent Mr. Jerry Tarnoff's life on a rafting trip down the Delaware River by wrestling an 8-foot alligator to his death. The same Nir who once walked the entire length of Eagle Rock Avenue with a packed school bus chained to his scrotum– just because he could, while also raising money for the West Orange First Aid Squad.

Yes, Mountaineers. I was a proud man– once. But today, I come before you, hat in hand, asking for your help. After high school, I persued a career in the theater arts. I eventually landed the lead role in HOLDEN!-- an off-Broadway musical adaptation of Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger's epic tale of adolescent angst. After a brilliant five month run which garnered rave reviews (Zhavi Zhines read one New York Times headline), I signed with an agent who told me he could bring me to even greater fame and fortune, if I followed him to Hollywood. This is where my story-- a story which should be about an Israeli immigrants search for the American Dream-- takes a cruel twist and more accurately reflects life in this, the American nightmare.

Upon reaching the City of Angels, my agent told me the news. While he actively searched for roles fitting for a man of my Mediterranean good looks and boyish charm, I would be employed as a personal assistant by another one of his clients-- one Mr. Emilio Estevez, star of The Breakfast Club, Men at Work and Young Guns 1 and 2. My duties started off innocently enough– cleaning Estevez's pool, mowing his lawn and answering his fan mail for him. Our relationship was both cordial and professional– I would do my job and Estevez would chat briefly with me, in a friendly tone, about the craft of performance, thus allowing me a glimpse into his method acting techniques that have given him a record six Best Actor Oscars.

But exactly 60 days after employment, the good times ended. As I was living at the Estevez estate, all my food, housing and cost of living expenses were being paid for by Emilio himself. On the 60th day, I was awoken with a harsh and powerful backhanded slap by Mr. Estevez and was told that, quote unquote, the "party was over."

I had been duped by my agent, who has since fled to the lawless region between Pakistan and Afghanistan. After two months, I was no longer working for a living-- I was working for my life. Apparantly, I had signed a contract that said if I displeased Mr. Estevez in any way, shape or form, he had the legal right to snuff my life immediately.

This began a series of embarrassing events that stripped me of both my dignity and freedom. First, I was told that I could no longer have the priviledge of calling Mr. Estevez by his Christian name– from now on, I would have to refer to him by the monicker of Master Destiny. That day, I had to wash Master Destiny's Alfa-Romeo in the Los Angeles Sports Arena parking lot, wearing nothing more than a hot-pink pair of Spandex Bike shorts with Master Destiny's face airbrushed on the rear. A busload of tourists watched me and mocked me as Master Destiny led them in jeers from a megaphone.

"Look at how poor this person is! Look at him! I am a celebrity and he does what I say because he's poor," Master Destiny announced from the bus that he was driving. I also had to stand hopeless in nothing more than a soiled diaper as Master Destiny and a teenaged girlfriend pelted me with seedless grapes and loose change. And I also once even had to shampoo Master Destiny's feet with my hair as his friends– including Beverly D'Angelo, Olivia D'Abo, and Malcolm Jamal W'arner– stood over me, hooting and hollering as they poured spiced cognac all over my pleather clad body.

One fateful night, about two weeks ago, I decided to no longer live this freakish nightmare. Master Destiny had me sleep in a lifesized dollhouse, chained in my bed with stainless steel. Using bodybuilding techniques I learned at the Phase III Fitness Center on Main Street, I shed my bondage and crawled my way back to freedom through the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico, before hitchhiking a ride with Ian Ziering back to my hometown of West Orange, New Jersey.

But now I am in desperate need of your help. The cruel taskmaster Emilio Estevez is arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood. He has already made sure that I will never work again– in ANY industry. As such, I need YOUR donations to get by. While I, Nir Zhavi, may have always been listed alphabetically last, I know that in your hearts I was always first. Please give.

With love,
Nir Zhavi.

After sending that out, I received no money from my classmates. Forced to be unemployed due to Estevez's cruel omnipotence, I had to spend my days in the media room of my construction-magnate father's 14-room mansion, where I played non-stop Grand Theft Auto on a large screen television, eating gourmet fruits that were handpicked from our rear garden by his dozens of blonde, stripper mistresses.

Needless to say, my life felt incomplete. I did not want to spend my days getting high, paying Playstation 2 and having everything paid for me. In addition, I have always been a man of my word-- and I had, indeed, signed a contract that forced me into bondage. I hopped on a Greyhound bus and went to Hollywood, knocking on Emilio's door, hoping he would take me back.

Graciously, he did. To punish me for my insolence, he punished me by repeatedly flogging my naked, acne-scarred back with a razor-tipped rattan cane in front of a busload of tourists visiting the Staples Center. They spent their afternoon jeering me for my blatant disobedience of a rich celebrity who gave the world so much joy in Men At Work, amongst other classics of American Cinema.

To help teach me my proper place, Estevez has granted me one look at freedom. That is here, on this blog, where I will be able to effectively communicate to you-- his public-- about his power and might. Come here for periodic updates and a look into the world of Master Destiny... my mentor, my spiritual guidepost and the man who is currently withholding my weekly ration of Cheeze-Its until I clean his pool.