Sure, without a doubt, the recent whole lotta WTF whatever concerning the is he or isn't he alive or still dead status of legendary comedy concept cut-up/way, way off-center odd ball Andy Kaufman was, all things considered, just about the biggest scoop of you know what to hit beautiful downtown Tinselburg in quite some time.
Or, at least since earlier this past week when it was reported on TMZ that Lady Gaga had nothing but an overabundant supply of extensive gastrointestinal distress to offer fellow going up travelers during an excruciatingly long elevator ride to somewhere near the top of 30 Rock prior to one of her cameo appearances in a (supposedly) theoretically funny "Saturday Night Live" rehearsal, of sorts.
And that, oh yeah, earlier this month Tom Cruise checked into the UCLA Medical Center for a quick overnight stay to have his recently diagnosed humility deficiency carefully monitored by a crack team of otherwise semi-not really intimidated health professionals who apparently failed to properly sign the right amount of necessary waivers to otherwise insure that superstars of Mr. Cruise's particular ongoing ilk are commonly protected from being revealed to the greater public at large that, truth be told, they're just as much of jagoff as the next guy.
Providing, of course, the next guy ain't former U.S. Vice President/Now & Forever You Know What Hole Dick Cheney.
In which case it's, well, you know, game over, check, please, no more calls, folks, we have a winner in the biggest Dick - no pun intended, but, sure, if need be, go ahead knock yourself out - of all time. But, not in a good way, since, well, that's another story.
All of which leaves us, in the meantime in between time, trippin' & fallin' accordingly into this here new and improved same sort of almost but not quite, gee, you mean he's really not dead kind of once upon a this time, suddenly being played out front and center for all y'all enquiring (with a chance of slouching) minds everywhere.
In other words, that's right, moms and dads and kids of all ages - along with, of course, any and all in-family transgender types who will not be denied, cause why - according to sources in the field (and at least one still resting comfortably near the curb just outside of the Wynn Las Vegas), apparently it's now official, quasi-legendary 70s era comedian/TV personality/hardcore never break a sweat gaming participant/commentator/gadfly Gabe Kaplan is indeed alive and swell, as we speak, and - at this late date of real life have to the go there pretend time - continually attempt to further digest this brand of celebrity-driven, mumbo jumbo hide and, thee as we, shall seek.
"Huh?"
Well, not in so many words. But, for now these will just have to do.
Starting, of course, with yes, Virginia (and all the other 49 U of SA states, as well, plus who knows how many out of town and country locales with nothing better to do than check in, too), Gabe Kaplan - the late Stanley Myron Handleman's once proud wingman during a long since gone brief time of mutual-based carnal inefficiency while both were Hollywood Improv undercard headliners in the early 70s - was officially spotted for the first time (for real, in public, at any point in the last 30 years) late Friday night by one or more on the scene reporters in Sin Like Flynn City just as he at long last finally emerged (looking decidedly fit and unseasonably trim) from his well appointed palatial subterranean lair situated far beneath the Wynn Las Vegas award-winning 18-hole championship golf course.
Whereupon it was revealed that Mr. Kaplan had apparently just spent the last three decades not only exhaustively counting his mountain (or two) of earnings that came his way as a result of his breakthrough on-screen/behind the scene participation in the back in the day primetime series, "Welcome Back, Kotter", but steadfastly acquiring and maintaining (albeit rather obsessively) an otherwise enormously populated series of collections centered around unflattering undergarments worn by Totie Fields during her performances on "The Ed Sullivan Show", unzipped flies of far too many disgraced U.S. congressional members (again with the no pun intended, but then, you know the drill), and, oh yeah, most it not all of Lola Falana's old toothbrushes.
When asked to explain his all too obvious well conditioned appearance and how it quite frankly failed to measure up - both literally and figuratively - with the Gabe Kaplan that most of the nearby public has seen fit to either ignore, dismiss, and/or, periodically feel the need to point at when regularly seen (usually sitting remarkably still) here and there at various Vegas area functions over the years, Kaplan gave felt now was as good a time as any to finally bring the curtain down on his little cat in the bag charade of hiring - a rotating string of either carefully groomed (yet altogether puffy) S.A.G. approved homeless guys, recently paroled prisoners already familiar with his unique personality tics and/or most commonly accepted emotionless traits after years of personally answering his fan mail, and/or just plain urbanized for your inspection stumblebums who had somehow memorized two or more of his long winded stories about growing up as a meeker than usual geek in Brooklyn during the 1950s - as his official on-camera stand-ins for all occasions.
Or, at the very least, ever since he wowed the world with his once proud finish line showing during a "Battle of the Network Stars" telecast in the early 1980s.
"What can I tell you?" Kaplan said, while doing his best to hold back his trademark go for the gold smirk. "It was nothing if not a tough job, and someone other than me certainly seemed like the best idea at the time, as well as ever since then, to tackle it."
When asked to further explain the ultra-extended period of time it took for him to count up his now jam packed vault of well earned wealth, Kaplan suddenly became even more personally revealing to the evermore anxious crowd of nearby innocent bystanders hoping he'd speed it up through the ever-so marvelous Wynn Las Vegas front doors.
"I would've shown up sooner," said the still Jewfroed fun guy laugh riot waiting not to happen. "But, what the heck, it took me more time than I planned on to add up all my dough once two of my primary along for the slide, helpers (co-stars Robert Hegyes -"Juan Epstein", and Ron Palillo - "Arnold Horshack") stopped coming in to lend me a hand a while back. So that just left me and Larry (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs - "Freddie "Boom Boom" Washington"), and for a while there, John Sylvester White (Principal Woodman) to do all the, you know, heavy lifting."
All of which, apparently, got even way heavier, Kaplan went on to explain, once an additional tidal wave of revenue came rolling in from not only full-season DVD sales, but a totally out-of-nowhere gold mine, of sorts, that quickly developed when the producers of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" purchased unlimited rights to the "Sweathogs" brand intellectual catchphrase property on the outside chance that it might prove to be useful for fill-in title purposes should a situation ever develop whereby the no talent Kardashian sisters somehow all got pregnant at the same time.
"And well, to make matters just slightly way worse, despite the obvious flood of net profits I've been wadding though right from the get-go," Kaplan added, "was the strange but totally true fact that Mr. John Travolta never once stopped by to help out cause, for whatever reason, apparently no one around here would ever let him land his jumbo jet on the Number 6 fairway. Either way, at least Larry and I finally got a handle on it by ourselves after a long bit if a while of going it alone."
When informed that all three of his missing in action co-stars had in fact each passed away in recent years (both Hegyes and Palillo in in 2012, and White in 1988) Kaplan at first looked stunned, then just shrugged and said, "Wow, I guess that means now I'm really going to have to make a whole new series lunch plans. Especially since I haven't heard anything from Steve Landesberg in a while either."
Meanwhile, following a whirlwind shopping spree, during which Kaplan dug deep and purchased a pair of Carrot Top socks, a can of ice cold Fresca, and two packages of mini-gazed donuts at the Wynn Las Vegas gift shop, an impromptu news conference was set up in the nearby ultra-expansive lobby for the benefit of all nearby poorly paid (if at all) online journalists anxiously hoping to make even more have to go there hay out of this particular celeb re-sighting. Especially with regards to what Kaplan's rest of the day plans where, if not now, then perhaps for just the rest of his life.
"Well, I don't know about you," said Kaplan in a sudden hopeful shift in his overall lackluster demeanor. "but, methinks what would be real nice now, especially since it's been a while, is to get together with Andy Kaufman for a little late afternoon/early evening smack snack with Freddie Blassie before catching Shecky Greene's midnight show at The Sands."
Oh well, due to the present state of inflation, even one maybe out of four more or less not there's anymore is still a pretty good go-to average to bet what's left of the house on.
And, as such, pretty much business as usual, for anyone still in the mood to prance and dance it up accordingly within the nearest available 1% bracket of here to there, next stop wherever where reality of the right about now (and how) kind.
(In stereo, where available.)
