Advance #73: Spielberg Announces Film Version of Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl"

Apparently growing weary of the stifling expectations of massive-budget action and science fiction films, mega producer Steven Spielberg announced his plans Wednesday to make a feature-length epic based on pop-siren Katy Perry's once Buzzworthy I Kissed a Girl music video.

With the story's deft, confident beats, bold female protagonist and timely message of making out super hard with another chick in front of your boyfriend while not even remotely being a lesbian, the Amblin helmsman may be plunging towards another Academy Award with this cheeky, melt in your mouth re-imagining of Fuse TV's #11 video of 2008.

"My lovely (and significantly less talented) wife Kate has been tugging at me to do an E.T. reboot for years, but I see that's not necessary anymore, so I looked at the sexless gomers that live and breathe prostrate at the feet of my science fiction library and thought to myself, 'forget those fucktards. Papa Spiels is doing what feels right.' And this feels so right."

Variety is reporting that talks are underway with Boys Don't Cry's Kimberly Peirce to direct the Larry McMurtry-tomed script.  Said a source "Steven is searching for the right voice to bring this elegant but fragile same-sex chef-d'oeuvre to life, and he thinks Kimberly's unique eye for muff would be ideal."

For her part, Perry seems to be on board. "If anybody can take my artistic vision for that haunting and elegant coming of age anthem that I wrote on a killer ski trip Junior year to the screen, it's George Lucas."

Executive Producer,
Denny DelVecchio

From The Bag of Tricks: My Imaginary, Illustrated French Family (Advance #34)

I'm so glad that I can finally introduce you to my cool, hastily-drawn French family.

Meet Henri, Sophie, Jean-Luc and Thérèse DelVecchio. They're the greatest.

What?  Hiding them from you?

Au contraire, mon ami. Denny just needed to wait until the right time to tell you.

I had to make sure that you'd be truly happy for us--without a hint of the cankered jealousy that you unfurled upon learning of the white hot groin-vacation I enjoyed with your sister-in-law at the 2005 North Mesa Clogger's Retreat.

Anyway, I'm off to engorge myself in Sophie's trademark grenouille aubergine, followed by a spongebath from the beguiling Thérèse, who, by the way, just finished her first year at Sarbonne.  (That's Denny's college girl!)

Merci Beaucoup,
Denny DelVecchio

Advance #72: Springing Forth Soon From Denny Dance's Uterus

Me, too!!

Although Denny fully understands that his breathy legions of DelVecchians could suckle for untold weeks off of the ample teet of his past literary conquests, the munificent 4% of him demands that he give you even more.

Coming soon to your favorite show horse-breeding website: 

Akron man fashions makeshift "vagina" out of hand--innovator or pervert?

New Dana Delaney series poised to be best new Dana Delaney series this season.

Michele Bachmann: You'd probably still bang her.

James Taylor promises even more "pimps and hoes" on upcoming album.

Incontinent six month old has new mother at wit's end.

Kentucky Tea Party official furtively wondering if labiaplasty is covered by Obamacare.

Peta gleefully welcomes fast food titan's new McHumanburger.  

DelVecchio: Cocksure dreamer or lonesome clown?

Stay tuned,
Denny DelVecchio

Advance #71: Denny + The Straight Leg=Otherworldly Magic

Try this on for size, DelVecchians. (In case any nuclear power plant engineers are reading, by "try this on for size" I mean click the link.)

Denny sells out hard. Take his hairy paw in your own and do the same.

Journeyman,
Denny DelVecchio

Regress #57-67: Holy Fuck No

I have no inkling what humankind has done to so enrage Melmoor The Lesser the supreme being of your choice, but I'm at my last wit trying to ascertain exactly why He would have intentionally foisted this sugary death-dirge upon our frail bodies and souls.

I've heard doper beats in a motherfucking Perkins bathroom at 3:00 am.

Speechless,
Denny DelVecchio

From the Bag of Tricks: Spoiler Alert #4 (Jaws)

You're the salty but kindhearted lawman of an idyllic Long Island resort town in the mid-70s.

More Than a Feeling is blaring from AM radios. The summer tourist crush is unfolding. Main Street is satiated, and waves of jaunty visitors are having the times of their lives.

Then the bodies start piling up. 

It could be a horrifying, gender-confused psychopath. Or a gang of motorcycle riding, machete-wielding toughs. Or even a creature from beyond, hell bent on making planet Earth its own wanton reproductive playground.

What's your next move, Chief Brody? 

You want Denny's advice? Take a quick peek under the water. And I don't mean at the coquettish bikinis painted on the ample-bosomed enchantresses frequenting Amity's beaches.

I'm talking about a whole new brand of dorsal-finned horror.

Something that scientists in 2010 are now calling a "Shark."

Godspeed,
Denny DelVecchio

From The Bag of Tricks: O Caritas!

Some Sundays Tuesdays are better than others. Such was the case for moi last eve, as I galloped into the forbidden regions of the night with sisters Lea and Valerie [family name withheld] of the Tuscon Waukesha [family name withheld].

Let's just say that the pic to your left was just north of 9:30 and just south of a loving gaggle of sibling nudity that soon engulfed me in a passionate DelVecchiwich.

I said "church choir."  You laughed.  I said "ice cream social." You snickered.  I said "ultra control top hosiery." You scoffed.  Well who's laughing/snickering/scoffing now?

But just because you had a double date with a sixer of Keystone Light and three hour block of Time Warner quasi-smut doesn't mean that your night wasn't the equal of mine. In fact, without your grim celibacy, this post would not exist. And my dogs would have gone hungry.

Bless you, you. Your special brand of sexlessness inspires me in ways you cannot possibly fathom.

Say hello to your parents,
Denny DelVecchio

Advance #70/Regress #56: Gumb Being Gumb

Rubbing lotion on skin,
Denny DelVecchio