by Willie Geist
ST. PETER: I understand.
MR. EDWARDS: Like an old-fashioned mill where people made things with their hands. They wore work clothes, perhaps overalls. I have to imagine they would have eaten their lunches from metal pails and waited for some sort of a bell or a whistle to call them back inside to continue making whatever it was they were making by hand. I’m sure there were injuries in these old mills—the kind that probably entitled the victims to millions in compensation from greedy, negligent corporations.
You see, I am related by blood to a person who did these things. I am the son of a mill worker. I would never put myself in your sandals, St. Peter, or tell you how to do your job, but from where I’m sitting, being the son of someone who was in the working class oughta be worth something up here.
ST. PETER: For one thing, Mr. Edwards, we don’t admit people into Heaven on the basis of nepotism. We judge the life of the individual on its own merits. I want to be very clear on that. I make no exceptions. Just ask Nancy Sinatra.
More important, your father e-mailed my office and asked, as a personal favor, that we deny your application. He wrote, and I quote, “Put John on the elevator to the bottom floor, if you know what I mean.”
MR. EDWARDS: Daddy said that?
ST. PETER: He sure did. It’s harsh, I know.
MR. EDWARDS: Well, he’s a loser anyway. F**kin’ guy worked in a textile mill his whole life. No ambition. Pathetic. You can tell him I said that, too.
ST. PETER: Oh, dear. Mr. Edwards, you may proceed, but I have to tell you this is like watching a man drown slowly. I have that conflicted feeling when someone is struggling in the water right in front of you: Do I play the hero or do I keep these chinos dry and hope someone else dives in? Don’t put me in that position, man. They don’t pay me to hand out legal advice around here, but I’d get off the “son of a mill worker” thing.
MR. EDWARDS: Very well, St. Peter. I’m sure your heart broke the way mine did when you watched the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. It was bad for obvious death and traffic reasons, but good because it allowed me to resurrect a slogan I coined that everyone had previously ignored—the one you were kind enough to shout out a moment ago: “Two Americas.”
ST. PETER: That was not a shout-out.
MR. EDWARDS: Well, thanks just the same. To give you an idea of how concerned I was about the “Two Americas,” I launched my presidential campaign in New Orleans in the part where all the poor people live. Do you know that not one of the homes in the 9th Ward has a billiards room with vintage movie posters and pinball machines? Not a single one. It breaks your heart.
To show my compassion, I wore a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up on that first day (it was back to the Armani suits with the tags cut out after that, of course). The jeans and rolled-up sleeves were to let America know that I was willing to get my hands dirty and be around poor people. Don’t tell me Jesus wouldn’t have loved that. That guy lived for the poor people photo-op.
ST. PETER: Honestly, I’m not even going to tell Jesus you were here.
MR. EDWARDS: I was very concerned about the “Two Americas,” St. Peter. I even had a bunch of folks from America #2 pour the concrete for my wine cellar. That’s not just talking about the “Two Americas.” That’s doing something about it.
ST. PETER: Your defense has gotten so bad it’s almost good now.
MR. EDWARDS: Thank you, St. Peter.
ST. PETER: Hey, let’s talk more about that weirdo chick you were banging.
MR. EDWARDS: Really? I’d rather not.
ST. PETER: Just out of curiosity, what was the plan if you won the presidential nomination that year? Or if, God forbid, you became president? Just move the baby mama into the Lincoln Bedroom? Bring her to the state dinners?
MR. EDWARDS: Again, St. Peter, I have said repeatedly that I am sorry for my behavior at that time. With due respect, I’m a little frustrated by the line of questioning here today. My assistant back on Earth was told that if I said I had allowed Christ into my heart, he would kind of assume the guilt for the sins and we could fast-track this process. My name should be on the list. Is there something that can be arranged?
ST. PETER: No, Mr. Edwards. There definitely is nothing to be arranged.
MR. EDWARDS: I would like to request a change of venue. The court clearly has been biased by media coverage and by the facts of my life.
ST. PETER: There are no other venues, Mr. Edwards. This is the Supreme Court to end all Supreme Courts. The end of the line. Do you have any closing remarks or should I just pull the trap door and send you downstairs now?
MR. EDWARDS: St. Peter, from my hardscrabble upbringing as the son of a mill worker I rose to a position where I actually had a working textile mill on the grounds of my property. My clothes were handmade on the premises. I would often visit the factory floor to check on the progress of a cardigan sweater or a blazer and think of my father, the mill worker. So it is with great humility that I ask you—
ST. PETER: I can’t listen to this shit anymore. I hope those mill workers made you some lightweight linen slacks, Mr. Edwards. It gets warm where you’re going.
Your application is denied. This one wasn’t even close. Bailiff, see Mr. Edwards to the elevator.
MR. EDWARDS: Wait! There are “Two Americas”! Get your hands off me! Mill workers! My dear wife! Mystical powers! You can’t do this to me! Don’t you know who I am?!
ST. PETER: Laverne, I’m going to lunch. And tell Jesus I’m not gonna make it to racquetball this afternoon. Just make something up.
Chapter 19
Snooki and the Salahis: The 15 Minutes Hall of Fame
A TRANSCRIPT of the remarks made by Master of Ceremonies Kevin Federline at the induction ceremony for the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame, Class of 2010.
Good evening and welcome to El Segundo, California, home of the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame. Please continue to enjoy your lunch as we begin this afternoon’s Fourteenth Annual Induction Ceremony. We have a great class to announce this year. As a 2005 inductee (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*), I know how anxious our nominees are, so I’ll unveil the list in just a moment—I promise, guys. Before I do, though, a word about the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame and the people who make it the world’s largest and most highly regarded organization honoring the momentarily famous.
When Kato Kaelin founded this wonderful place in 1996 and made himself the charter member, it was little more than a small office space in an industrial park by the airport. Skeptics said Kato rented the place only so he could have somewhere to sleep and bathe himself. Well, that may have turned out to be true, but just look at us now. Kato, stand and be recognized, if you would. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
We have enshrined 120 distinguished members over the last thirteen years. Somewhere along the way we became the standard of excellence for former reality television stars and circus freak newsmakers. Only the very best of the best pass through those doors back there. Actually, the guys who rent the other half of the space for their counterfeit phone card business pass through the doors every morning, too, but you see what I’m driving at.
We are so honored to have some of the all-time greats with us this afternoon to help welcome our new class. Let’s take a moment to say hello to them. To the radio contest winners here in attendance, please hold your applause until we have read the name of the last 15 Minutes Hall of Famer. The meet-and-greet with Larry Birkhead begins 15 minutes after our program here has concluded. Thank you.
First, from the Class of 1998, Miss Paula Jones. Paula reminds us that sometimes a brief brush with fame in an Arkansas hotel room is all it takes to become a household name. Welcome back, Paula.
Leading our Class of ’99, in more ways than one, Mary Kay Letourneau, the middle school teacher who banged her 13-year-old student and later left her husband and four children for him. Nice to see you again, Mary Kay.
It’s great to see Elián González back from our Class of 2000. Elián was the kid at the center of a
story whose details I can’t even remember. He wanted to go to Cuba, or he didn’t want to go to Cuba? Who knows. It seems so quaint now. Pleasure to have you back with us, Gonzo.
Elián’s classmate from that year is here as well: Darva Conger, stand up if you would. Reality TV was just a budding flower when you married and divorced that dude on Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire? back in 2000. Ladies and gentlemen, Darva was there for the infancy of reality television. A lot of people in this room owe her a great debt of gratitude. I probably shouldn’t compare her to Rosa Parks, but I guess I just did. By the way, we invited Rosa to be an honorary member of the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame back in 1998, but she declined. Couldn’t have been nicer about it. Anyway, welcome, Darva.
Is William Hung here? Bill, where are you? There you are, you old so-and-so. William was inducted in 2004. He pioneered the “sympathy celebrity” category. People simply felt bad about themselves for making fun of him on American Idol because, frankly, it looked like something might be wrong there. No one was making fun anymore when William released his Christmas album Hung for the Holidays. Had a heck of a run. He really is a strange duck though. Good to see you, Bill.
Couple folks to say hello to from the Class of 2005: Ken Jennings, of Jeopardy! fame, and Miss Jennifer Wilbanks, known to the world as the Runaway Bride. One’s the kind of guy you want to have with you at trivia night down at the local sports bar. The other is the kind of gal who fakes her own kidnapping to get out of her wedding. He’s a crazy genius. She’s just plain old crazy. Have you seen those eyes? Yikes. Welcome back, Kenny and Jenny.
And, finally, a salute to our most recent inductee. From the Class of 2009, Joe the Plumber. One of the all-time greats to join this body. Who else can snake out your toilet by day and influence presidential politics by night? Joe, you were a terrific ambassador to the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame over the last year, representing our ideals of opportunism and desperation at every turn. We appreciate your service—and the free caulking in the men’s room. Ladies and gentlemen, our returning 15 Minutes Hall of Famers. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Now, if we could take the lights down, we will turn our attention to the men and women in this room hoping to join the rarefied space inhabited only by the likes of those men and women you just saw—American icons all. The lives of the four inductees whose names I will reveal in a moment are about to be changed forever. You, ladies and/or gentlemen, will join a club whose membership offers much, but demands even more. From this day forward, a prefix, and a burden of responsibility, will be attached to your name. You will be . . . a 15 Minutes Hall of Famer. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Before we announce the new members, let’s remind the audience of our nominees for the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame, Class of 2010.
She defines the kind of memorable reality TV character ripe for 15 minutes of fame—at once repellent and compelling. She also happens to be orange. Ladies and gentlemen, Nicole Polizzi, known to the world as Snooki from MTV’s Jersey Shore. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Our next nominee achieved stardom with the home-cooked recipe of a racy MySpace page, a catchy fake name, and a pinch of slutty bisexuality. She is the star of the reality show A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, Miss Tila Tequila. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
His parents told the world he had floated away from their backyard in a homemade weather balloon. The police, and the national media, gave chase while he hid safely in a cardboard box in the attic at home. Please say hello to “Balloon Boy” Falcon Heene, and his creepy father, Richard. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Our next nominee allowed the governor of New York to do things to her you wouldn’t allow barnyard animals to do to each other. Her revelations about Client 9 took down an administration and gave the grateful state of New York a man named David Paterson. Ladies and gentlemen, Ashley Dupré. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
You know, it’s one thing to alter your physical appearance to resemble your celebrity hero. It’s quite another to have 14 children in that effort. A warm welcome for the pauper’s Angelina Jolie, the Octomom, Miss Nadya Suleman. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
I’m not even sure our next nominee lasted 15 minutes, but he touched America—literally, in many cases—with his tickling, groping, snorkeling, and, yes, those famous “Massa Massages.” He is former New York congressman, and current doughy, sweaty collector of porcelain figurines, Eric Massa. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Up next, her older sister has become an international sex symbol. She has become the younger sister of an international sex symbol. Her highly publicized quickie marriage to a Los Angeles Laker was a bold, impressive attempt to grab attention away from her super-hot, bubble-assed sister Kim. Please welcome Khloe Kardashian. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
Our next nominee captured hearts around the world by reminding us that even homely looking people oughta have a fighting chance at fame. We’re not usually big on internal beauty, but how about a nice round of applause for Susan Boyle, just the same. Let’s hear it, folks. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE/SYMPATHETIC STANDING OVATION BECAUSE SHE’S UGLY*)
Well, this beauty lectured us about the dangers of same-sex marriage while wearing a bikini and high heels on national television. She believes gay people are going to Hell, but we think she’s a little slice of Heaven. Ladies and gentlemen, the former Miss California, Carrie Prejean. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
And our final nominees pushed their way into the White House, and in the process opened the door to fleeting fame. Might I say, they looked pretty darn good doing it, too. Whether they are inducted tonight or not, Tareq and Michaele Salahi have our respect for getting past the Secret Service to party with the president of the United States. Well done, you two.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the 2010 nominees for the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame. Good luck, all. (*PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE*)
One housekeeping note before we announce this year’s inductees: Captain Chesley Sullenberger was nominated for a second consecutive year, but in a harshly worded e-mail, he declined our invitation to appear today. His message reads in part, “Ask the 155 people whose lives I saved by landing a jetliner with no engines on a river in New York City if I’m a 15-minute flash in the pan. You D-list frauds couldn’t afford my appearance fee anyway. Lose the number. Sully out.” His name has been removed from our nomination list permanently. He’s not the man we thought he was. (*PAUSE FOR POSSIBLE APPLAUSE*)
All right, we’ve made them wait long enough. Let’s meet the new members of the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame. If your name is not called, please remember that this is by no means the end of the road. A new reality show on VH1 or a nonviolent arrest could have you right back in this room next year. You all have an awful lot to be proud of.
Okay, here we go. (*PAUSE FOR EFFECT*) Why am I nervous? I’m just reading names. (*PAUSE FOR TENSION-BREAKING LAUGHTER*)
The first inductee in the Class of 2010 is . . . the Octomom! For the blatant exploitation of your 14 children just to appear in Us Weekly a few times, your name will join the list of 120 other Hall of Famers up on the Jessica Hahn Wall of Champions. Congratulations. Please come forward to receive your official 15 Minutes Hall of Fame digital watch by Casio and a gift certificate for a free order of garlic knots from our longtime sponsor Ray’s Airport Pizza Hub.
The next member of the Class of 2010 is . . . I guess I should say “members,” plural: the White House crashers, Tareq and Michaele Salahi! Richly deserved. You turned a party crash into a debate over national security. Come to think of it, did anybody invite you here tonight?! (*PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER FOR TOPICAL HUMOR*) Congratulations, you aren’t just pathetic Washington social climbers anymore. You’re Hall of Famers.
Boy, this is getting tense. So many worthy nominees still sitting there waiting to hear their names called. Let’s see who’s next.
The 15 Minutes Hall of Fame is proud to welcome . . . Snooki! Wow! I have to say, that’s a bit of a surprise. Come on up here, you stumpy little tramp. Perhaps you were inducted because your fame so perfectly embodies the
15 Minutes spirit and reminds the world of America’s coming collapse as a world power. Congratulations. Boy, forgive me for saying so, but you’re gross in person.
Okay, we have just one more name to add to the Class of 2010. Again, if your name is not called, please remain calm and DO NOT attempt to flip over your table. They have been steel-bolted to the floor this year. I need not remind you of the Buster Douglas incident at last year’s ceremony. That kind of behavior will not be tolerated and will lead to the automatic removal of your name from future consideration for admittance into the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame. There is quite simply no place in this hallowed, shared industrial park office space for that kind of shameless, self-serving conduct. (*PAUSE WITH SERIOUS FACE*)
Okay, here goes. Wow, they don’t prepare you for the pressure. It just got so quiet in here. All right, deep breath. The final member of the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame Class of 2010 is . . . I knew it! Balloon Boy! Falcon Heene and his father, Richard! You went to unprecedented lengths to get your 15 minutes. Mr. Heene, you hid your 6-year-old son in the attic and temporarily convinced the world that he was hurtling toward his death in a UFO you built in your backyard. Again, you pretended your young son was dead so you could get a reality show. I think I speak for this entire body when I say we have scarcely seen a more worthy candidate for the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame. You are a sick, pathetic bastard—and we love you for it! Congratulations, Balloon Boy and Balloon Boy’s crazy-ass dad.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Class of 2010: The Octomom, the Salahis, Snooki, and Balloon Boy! What a group. (*PAUSE FOR BIG APPLAUSE*)
Thank you all for being here on this historic afternoon. I’m your host Kevin Federline, reminding you of the 15 Minutes Hall of Fame motto: “It doesn’t matter why you’re famous—as long as you are!”