Posts Tagged ‘weasels’

Hell Hath No Fury

November 19, 2008

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In the wake of the debacle which was the annual live Halloween broadcast for Ghost Hunters 2008, from Fort Delaware, in which Grant pitifully faked being accosted by a ghost and told to go away, he has opined that the only people who would stoop to question his veracity are haters of the show and the whole paranormal field.

Au contraire, ma pauvre petite belette.  Only the deeply disappointed would be so outraged, to the point of dissecting the lameness in excruciating, mortifying detail.  To wit – a former Ghost Hunters fan, named formerghfan, has labored mightily to reveal the Truth, in 3D.  It would be quite devastating, if the notion of shame were part of the TAPS world view.  Happily for Hans and Franz, it isn’t.

And there are more former fans rending their garments and crafting sorrowful videos, like this one.  A lengthy and fascinating print vivisection of the episode may be read here.

Mme. B. is off sulking somewhere (although I think she believes the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum juju is directly responsible for this current disgrace) so I feel safe in contradicting her.  Grant Wilson is Marianne Foyster.     Next, he will enter into a bigamous marriage, move to North Dakota, and die in obscurity. Or, not.  I hear he has been throwing coat hangers.

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A Second Helping of Gumbo

September 6, 2008

After rewatching the DeVille house episode (203) of Ghost Hunters, in light of Pam Gates Hoyt’s recent revelations, Mme. Blahblatsky and the Talking Mongoose are both feeling pret-ty silly about being taken in by that door. They don’t like being so thoroughly hoodwinked. They need to vent.

TM: So.

MB: Pft. Charlatans! Mountebanks! TAPS enters the long roll of paranormal frauds in my book. I’m peeved. I am officially disgruntled.

TM: Well, at least it got you out of the tomato patch. Those bloody wankers. You get the tar. I’ll fetch the feathers.

MB: You were right. Way back when, you were right.

TM: To be fair, I thought the door was real, too. We wanted to believe.

MB: No, I mean when you said if they lied about the little stuff, why should we believe them about the big stuff? Nothing they say is credible. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

TM: “And the self-righteous shall be laid low and trampled by ducks.”

MB: Huh?

TM: A quote seemed called for, so I made one up. In honor of TAPS. So I told you what Pam said about them filming the attempted door-debunking back in Rhode Island. Did you notice they didn’t even bother to try to get the door swing right when they filmed the fake door?

MB: Idiots.

TM: And there’s a wall right next to the door at a right angle, and there’s a dropped ceiling in the interior room.

MB: We’re idiots. We are idiots. No wonder we never saw Bruce with them as they “examined” the door. They never examined the door, because they didn’t need to, because they faked the whole thing.

TM: Where’s old Bruce in all this? He reacted in just the way they wanted him to.

MB: Oh my god – it was so easy for them to dupe him, because he lives in a goddamn haunted house. That is positively diabolical. The ghost hunters duping the homeowners, in order to spice up their “reality” television show. No wonder Jason and Grant are so suspicious of other people’s claims, because they’re both incorrigible liars, themselves.

TM: I thought we liked the word “fabulist.”

MB: Great big creepy fabulists. Or maybe vile little creepy fabulists.

TM: Flaming-pants fabulists. So while they were filming the door opening and closing, Jason DeVille was being kept outside, Bruce was being kept in the living room, and Pam and Michelle were being herded around by various TAPS people. It must have been a breeze. I mean easy-peasy, not a breeze. I assume some form of string was involved. Did you notice how the door bounced kind of oddly as it reached the end of its swing? I’m guessing someone out of line of the light coming under the door leaned over and opened the door knob, pushed it slightly, let it open a bit, and pulled it back with string attached to the door knob.

MB: Jesus H. Christ. We’re idiots.

TM: If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t found anything on the internets to indicate anyone else noticed either.

MB: It does not make me feel better.

TM: Oh, well. Yeah. We’re idiots. If I hadn’t been salivating over Texas hot wieners in Altoona, I might have noticed they were doing funny editing right from the start. Sidetracked by sausage. LORD GOD ALMIGHTY – GUESS WHO MOVED THE BED COVERS ON THE QUEEN MARY???

MB: What? Who? When? Stop shouting.

TM: Third season! We must go there next, Mme!!! They did it themselves!!!!!!! It’s too perfect – it works if it isn’t discovered, and it works if it is. I don’t know if Dave Tango was a patsy or in on it from the start, but it is sublimely perverse. Grant got to be all outraged that someone was playing a trick on them, when they did it themselves!!! I’m actually starting to feel a teeny-tiny bit of respect for the sheer brazen effrontery of it all.

MB: Wait, wait, wait. God knows, there’s going to be plenty of time for rethinking everything we thought we knew. Let’s stick to the case at hand. So Kristyn Gartland is revealed to be an aspiring actress rather than a total disgrace to female ghost hunters everywhere.

TM: I wonder if she thought of stroking her neck in that scene with Grant herself. Because – actressy foreshadowing!

MB: And Pam says the lamp that Paula got the minus-9 temperature reading was unplugged.

TM: I never understood how Pam picked up a cold spot first before Paula “proved” it was interference from the halogen lamp, plugged or unplugged.

MB: And the great ghost hunt shut down at ten o’clock to avoid film crew overtime. Where else do you suppose this has happened? Why did they even bother to go? What’s the point?

TM: My dear, I know you say you are officially disgruntled, but you have to start realizing the “ghost hunters” of TAPS are not hunting ghosts. Maybe they once were, but they stopped long ago.

MB: The Myrtles slave shack did look in awfully good condition, come to think of it.

TM: I guess all the controversy about the moving lamp there was more than justifiable. It was that weasel Grant.

MB: And, too bad, the scary shadow on the porch was just…

TM: Grant. I’m for blaming it all on the weasel. I told you he was bad.

MB: He’s no worse than Jason, though.

TM: Eh – Leopold/Loeb. Bush/Cheney. What’s the difference?

MB: Harry Price never would have survived the internets.

TM: Surely you’re not comparing the diabolical duo to Harry Price?

MB: Well, no. Grant is no Marianne Foyster. He’s cheesier. And the diabolical duo is surviving the internets nicely, isn’t it?

TM: Yes, but when future generations dig up our documents, which I am saving printed on acid-free paper sealed in a water-tight, fireproof steel box in a bomb-proof metal vault in a secret location, their goose will be cooked.

MB: Something to look forward to, then.

TM: Yes!

MB: At least they ate the gumbo.

TM: There’s that. Although if anyone ever deserved to have a pot of hot gumbo poured over them…

MB: A waste of good gumbo.

TM: Vraiment vrai. Alors, maybe you will think about a return to work now? A plethora of paranormal travesties awaits.

MB: And I still need to find Steve saying “supposably.”

TM: There you go.

MB: But there’s that tomato chutney I need to make…

TM: Oh, first things first. Anyway, I think I have go rewrite all the dang nutshell recarps. Cripes. A pox upon you, Hans and Franz.

Regular Ouija Board transmissions will resume anon. We have Mme. B.’s word.