Saturday, 26 May 2012

   This posting is a couple of days later than I’d planned. Electricity has just been restored to the Greater Funsville Area, after a thunderstorm knocked out a local generating station. No lightning struck the power plant itself, but the thunder scared off the hamsters that run inside the turbines. Now that they’ve been herded up and returned safely to their wheels, our story continues…

   When last we left you dangling from the edge of a narrative cliff, Sparky had just risen to dizzying heights in the alternate universe of television he had found himself in. After plunging the entire civilized world into disarray, he installed himself as the puppet-master of a New World Order whose nominal leader was veteran character actor Wilford Brimley.



   As you may remember, in this universe, the dividing line between life in the real world and life in the world of television was even less clear than it is in ours. So, the first thing Sparky’s junta did to consolidate its hold on power was to forcibly remove an extensive list of television programs from the air, sending their casts to remote, windswept islands off the coast of Antarctica. The decisions concerning which shows were spared followed a rationale that was, to say the least, highly personal.

   By and large, the people acquiesced to this sweeping cull…until Sparky went one step too far, and set his sights on Full House.


   In keeping with the inexplicable popularity of the show itself, the decision to “cancel” Full House touched off an inexplicable popular revolt. Public support began to coalesce behind a newfound champion of liberty—the erstwhile soap star, part-time rock-and-roller and Full House cast member known as John Stamos.



   Getting wind of the news that Stamos’ followers had taken to calling him “Uncle Jesse” (after the name of his character on Full House), a group of radical fans of Denver Pyle from The Dukes of Hazzard took the law into their own hands. Styling themselves “The Sons of The True Uncle Jesse”, they launched an insurrection of their own.

   The immediate result was something akin to pandemonium, only far less structured. The Uncle Jesse schism soon led to a proliferation of uncle-led splinter groups, starting with Uncle Charley from My Three Sons

   …followed in due course by Uncle Joe from Petticoat Junction

   …then, in rapid succession, Uncle Captain Huffenpuff from Beany and Cecil

   …Uncle Phil from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

   …and the usually funny Kevin Meany’s late, lamentable version of Uncle Buck.


   Things didn’t go particularly well for anyone in particular after that. In the midst of the confusion, Sparky, like any good usurper who sees the handwriting on the wall, dropped completely out of sight.

   Gratified as I was that Sparky was putting vital life lessons I had taught him into practice, his skill at hiding wasn’t going to make it any easier to get him out of the world he was trapped in and back to this one. We had no time to come up with a new rescue plan, though, for even as we watched these latest developments, a sinister shadow drew across the TV screen…


   Science Boy didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the stranger.

  It’s…PROFESSOR PROTEUS—! he shrieked.

   Whatever can this mean, gentle readers (and rough ones as well)? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait another week (or less, I hope) to find that out. In any case, I’d better sign off now. The lights just flickered, and I hear the telltale sound of squeaking coming from under the sofa. Time to call Funsville Light and Power, and break out the net I keep handy for such occasions.

Uncle Fun

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