Story: The Wizard of Mich, Part Three (Conclusion)Posted: January 20, 2012
For the past two posts I have been telling you about my strange trip to Michigan. I’d been serenaded by bizarre Little Ten Kins, killed a Loony Leftist with a flying Winnebago, and was traveling with Julep the Dog through the middle of the Mitten…I mean Michigan…to find some Wizard to get me back home. Along the way I picked up THE Bob Seger, a talking anthropomorphic Vernor’s Ginger Ale can, and Ndamukong Suh, the Penalized Lion. There was lots of mirth and singing….and I mean LOTS. As weird as things had been up to that point, they were about to get weirder. Our merry band was about to meet the full wrath of Michael Moore, the Loony Leftist of the East. He was out for revenge, just as he had promised.
Michael Moore is vile creature, sloppy and slothful in appearance. But he is also very cunning and subtle. When he first began to cast a spell on me I had no idea it was him at work. We got out of Detroit unscathed thanks to help from the Penalized Lion. Suh is very popular in those parts and we received safe passage, even though we were in the heart of Michael Moore Country. We headed north and several hours later we neared the small village of Frankenmuth. Frankenmuth has a reputation for causing travelers to run astray and Tim Allen, the Good Toolman of the North had warned me to avoid it. I had fully intended to do so. The problem was as we neared the town and passed several billboards, Bob Seger and the Vernor’s Can began to get agitated. They kept begging and begging and begging to stop at Bonner’s CHRISTmas Wonderland, a popular Christmas themed, year round store and tourist extravaganza. Both Suh and I voted against it. I vetoed it because the Toolman had warned me against stopping there and I wasn’t much for tourist traps. Suh argued against it because he said it was the “honkiest place in the universe”. With all due respect to Polkatoon, North Dakota, I’d have to agree.
Yet Seger and the Vernor Can kept agitating for us to stop. It had a strange pull over them. So I relented. It turned out to be several large warehouse size buildings with alumnium siding full of countless Christmas shops. There were Nativity stores, Santa Stores, ornament stores, Santa ornament stores, Christmas light stores, plastic reindeer stores, novelty stocking stores, and twelve snack bars each corresponding to one of the 12 days of Christmas from the song. It was the most Midwestern thing I had ever seen in my life. Suh immediately fell asleep in the parking lot. Julep laid down soon after. I stared at the place for awhile but began to tire myself. The last I remember was Seger and the Vernor Can going from store to store giggling and skipping, happy as can be.
It was almost the end of us. For Michael Moore had cast a spell on us to stop there. In fact he owns the place. At first glance, the CHRISTmas Wonderland appears to be rather conservative leaning. It’s pro religious and pro capitalist…on the surface. In reality, the money you spend there goes to fund Michael Moore’s production company and other sundry schemes. He uses it to bankrupt conservative Midwesterners. In fact, it has led to much of the decline in Michigan and neighboring states’ GNP. On Southerners and other non-natives, it has the opposite affect. The boredom lulls one into a deep sleep that can last up to 100 years. In fact Rip Van Winkle was a real life Dutchman who fell asleep in such as way at Bonner’s Albany location. Thankfully we survived. I was roused by the Vernor Can after he had blown through all his money. He was shaking me to try to jiggle loose change from my pants. I was awoken, and realized what was going on. We got out of there as soon as we could and before Bob Seger could stage the free Christmas music concert he was promising patrons.
After we got back to our senses we got back on the road and headed west to the capital city of the Wizard of Mich, which happened to be the capital city of Michigan; Lansing. As we journeyed on we began to see Lansing appear on the horizon. From afar you could definitely see it was clearly the capital of the Mitten. It appeared like a giant gleaming version of Grand Rapids. It had everything Grand Rapids had to offer only larger and more grandiose. Lansing contained a huge 4,000 square foot Dominoes Pizza, as well as a 45 story Little Caesar’s and a 67 story Hungry Howie’s. They were monstrous. To top that, there were equally large Applebees and Chili’s locations, billed as the largest in Michigan, as well as the world’s biggest Arnie’s, a favorite local chain among the natives. But the greatest indicator of it’s “Michiganess” was the 16 separate Meijer grocery store locations that leaped from the Lansing streets to touch the sky. My companions were in ecstasy. I felt it to be the scariest looking city I had ever seen, and I had just left Detroit. But journey on we had to, for in the rear corner booth of that Arnie’s led to the lair of the Wizard of Mich.
We got to Lansing and soon stood in front of the world’s largest Arnies. A greeter met us near the door. We asked to see the Wizard of Mich. “I’m sorry…” the greeter said, “he’s not here…he…he never eats here…this restaurant is closed…GOODBYE!”. “But you were just going to sit us for lunch!” I protested. Apparently word got out that some travelers were looking for the Wizard of Mich and were bringing trouble with them. As powerful as the Wizard of Mich was people feared Michael Moore the Loony Leftist of the East. The Arnies Corporation and the other chain restaurants would not want Michael Moore making a documentary about them. He was liable to put anything in his movie, including having Arnie’s cooks “hand out machine guns to children under 12”, or be using “toxic waste for their chicken pot pies”.
Finally Bob Seger stepped in. He said “tell the Motor City Madman his old friend Bob Seger is here to see him and has those silver bullets he is looking for”. The Wizard of Mich was known as quite a hunter. The greeter headed to the back of the restaurant and disappeared for a few moments. Then she returned. “The Wizard of Mich will see you now. Open the door to the right of the last booth and go down the hallway.”
We did what we were instructed. The great hallway was lined in camoflauge netting. There were various pictures of the Wizard of Mich hunting and with his trophy kills. The netting, the pictures, and the various head trophies of game struck home the point that the Wizard of Mich was trigger happy and likely to shoot you. I was a bit nervous….the man in the pictures seemed familiar to me….
“I AM THE GREAT NUGE…THE ALL POWERFUL AND ALMIGHTY WIZARD OF MICH!!! WHO IS IT THAT DARES DISTURB ME…BOB SEGER AND WHO ELSE?” The booming voice was loud, accusative, and angry. I looked down the hall and arsing from a flaming bowl, wedged between two elephant tusks was the image of none other than Michigan hard rocker and gun nut Ted Nugent, a man with over 13 kills, and that just in his VH1 Reality shows. But yeah, he definitely knew Bob Seger. That man opens a lot of doors around there. “SPEAK YOU PIECES OF FILTH…WHO GOES THERE?”. Finally I spoke for the group. “I am Southern Blogger. I come from a far away land, one where we like hunting too like you oh great and mighty Nuge!” “YOU ARE SOUTHERN THEN!?? THEN WHAT’S WITH THE STRANGE ATTIRE FROM A LIBERAL NORTHERN SCHOOL?” “A disguise oh mighty one” I said. “We are here to ask you humbly of some favors…” “FAVORS?!!! WHAT FAVORS SHOULD I GRANT YOU?!!” The Great Nuge seemed angry at our impudence. Seger told him about his need for soul, the Vernor Can his desire for caffeine, and Suh his wanting to be able to make tackles again. I also mentioned how I was trapped up there and wanted to return South but had killed the Loony Leftist of the West and had thus angered Michael Moore…”
“YES…IT WAS YOU WHO KILLED THE SNIDE LEFTIST OF THE WEST! I HAVE HEARD TIDINGS OF YOUR DOINGS”. This had impressed the Great Nuge who enjoyed hearing about the grisly demise of one of his enemies. “YOU HAVE DONE A GREAT THING SOUTHERN BLOGGER! YOU HAVE KILLED THE LOONY LEFTIST WHO WAS ABOUT TO REQUIRE ALL HUNTING BOWS TO FIRE NERF ARROWS. FOR THIS DEED I SHALL GRANT THEE AND THY FRIENDS WISHES BUT FIRST…” I knew there would be a catch. The Great Nuge continued to bellow. “YOU MUST FIRST BRING ME THE MEGAPHONE OF MICHAEL MOORE, THE LOONY LEFTIST OF THE EAST. DESTROY THE FOUL BEAST, BRING ME HIS OBNOXIOUS MEGAPHONE, AND YOU SHALL HAVE WHAT YOU DESIRE. NOW LEAVE MY PRESENCE AND DO NOT RETURN WITHOUT DOING THESE THINGS!” And with that, the Great Nuge disappeared.
We had come all this way to the city of Lansing and had met the Wizard of Mich. He was willing to grant all of our requests but we had to leave and perform a dangerous feat. We had to destroy Michael Moore. And to do so we had to leave the relatively safe confines of Lansing and head east to the home of the Loony Leftist of the East; Flint. As desolate and dangerous as Detroit was, it was nothing compared to the utter despair and agony of Flint.
We were more than a bit afraid as we headed back out on the road. We entered the dark and twisted Forest of GreenPeace which was anything but “peaceful”. There were briers and brambles and thorns and broken logs. Here no one was allowed to cut back any vegetation or harm anything from a tree. We tread as carefully as we could. We could hear whispers and voices boding us ill and wishing us to fail. It was if the trees, or whomever was inhabiting them were shouting negative slogans at us in the call and response manner of the #Occupy protesters.
Then from out of nowhere we were attacked from the sky. We were so busy listening to the voices and trampling lightly on the ground that we failed to see the Flying Moore Minions from the sky. They were smug, ironic, angry, leftist Hipsters with wings. Although skinny and weak vegans one on one, we were no match against hundreds of them. They swooped down and took Julep and me prisoner. The others they knocked to the ground and left.
They took me prisoner because I had the magic yellow sneakers that Michael Moore had wanted. That, and he blamed me for killing the Loony Leftist of the West. He took the dog to use as leverage against me. He knew I wasn’t a Seger, ginger ale, or Detroit Lions fan, so he left my companions alone. We were brought to the Moore compound and locked away in a dungeon to await our trial by documentary. It was a frightening experience.
Michael Moore lived in a billion dollar mansion on the outskirts of Flint. He hid his opulent mansion and his billionaire lifestyle behind the ruins of an abandoned factory. Only the factory was from the set of the movie “Roger and Me” and in fact never really existed. Of all the make believe I had seen in Michigan, Michael Moore took the cake.
My companions found their way to the mansion and hatched a plan to infiltrate it. They decided to disguise themselves in ironic costumes in an attempt to look like one of Moore’s Hipster Minions, or at the very least, one of his supporters. Suh donned tight jeans, Chucks, an ironic t-shirt that read “I’m bringing sexy Bach”, and an XFL football helmet. The Vernor Can donned the markings of a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, the Hipster’s favorite beer. It was decided that Seger go as himself, since any Hipster that “liked” Bob Seger and donned his clothes and facial hair would be ironic enough.
The ruse worked and my companions were able to sneak into the compound and passed as Hipsters. Seger passed with flying colors, Suh seemed a little suspicious looking like a football player until he said he was an “ironic ultimate Frisbee player”, while the Vernor Can had a close call as someone tried to drink him. They raced down below and found Julep and me. We were being interrogated.
Michael Moore had taken out his camera and began asking questions. It didn’t matter what questions he asked or what I answered, he was going to arrange the footage and my dialogue to fit whatever he wanted me to say. His main purpose in filming was to pester and anger me into a reaction, something I must admit he was easily able to do. With each insult I gave him, with each time I yelled at him, with each time I threatened to punch him, Moore laughed and grew stronger. He truly was all powerful.
My friends barged in the room and demanded our release. Moore merely laughed at them and turned the camera towards them. He took credit for eliminating the formula that made Vernor’s great and that he had falsely claimed it was a cancer agent. He told Seger that he had sabotauged his carreer by claiming “old time rock and roll” was racist and should be replaced with Rap-Metal. He told Suh, the Penalized Lion that he had installed Roger Goodell as commissioner and in fact Roger Goodell was his friend from the film “Roger and Me”. He then said he was going to destroy America by exposing it and suing it to death. All the evidence he needed was in a cabinet labeled “projects”.
Suh then became very angry and lunged at Moore. But Moore laughed and began filming him. “Replay…Replay….REPLAY!!! HA HA I gave the NFL replay….I am who is responsible for your fines…I am going to RUN YOU OUT OF THE LEAGUE…..you and all defensive players….football will then be so boring the NFL will go bankrupt…and with it all the corporate sponsors…dead gone…then everyone will be forced to watch MY MOVIES instead as they will be the only thing left on TV…the AV club will finally beat you football jocks you…”
I could stand it no longer. I reached into the cabinet and got a cup labeled “Kill Starbucks project”. I hurled it in Michael Moore’s face. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” he screamed. “THAT ISN’T FAIR TRADE BEAN COFFEE….THAT’S COFFEE MADE WITH BOTTLED WATER…THAT COFFEE MADE A PROFIT LAST YEAR…I CAN’T TAKE IT….AHHHHH I’M MELTING…I’M MELTING…I’M MEEEEELLLLLTTTTIIINNNG!!! AHHHH!”. And with that, Michael Moore, the terror of America, the man who killed Michigan, the Loony Lefist of the East had melted into a giant puddle and then went down the drain. The world was free.
We raced outside and the sky became clear. Hipsters had begun changing their clothes to normal attire. They soon realized the spell that they were under and that they weren’t being “ironic” but merely pretentious, spoiled, thrift-store, wannabee, clowns. The forest began to clear, the birds were singing, as the curse that had plagued that state for so long was finally gone. We happily headed back to Lansing to see the Wizard of Mich.
We headed back to the world’s largest Arnies. The word had spread throughout town and we were greeted as conquering heroes. We stepped inside the restaurant before we’d have to hear another lip dub. We raced down the hallway and laid Michael Moore’s megaphone at the foot of the flaming bowl. The Great Nuge then appeared.
“YOU HAVE DONE A GREAT THING KILLING THE LOONY LEFTIST OF THE EAST BUT I…I CANNOT HELP YOU…BECAUSE…UM…BECAUSE…UMMMM…WELL BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM WITH COFFEE AND NOT A BOW AND ARROW…SO IT WASN’T VERY SPORTING AND SO DOESN’T COUNT…GOOD BYE!”. We were all very angry. What a rip off? The Great Nuge wasn’t living up to his promise. It was as if he was a big giant phony. We were perplexed at what to do next. Then Julep raced to the right, past the flaming bowl and behind the curtain. We followed her and then pulled the curtain back. There was a man working the controls and speaking into a microphone….it was…it was KID ROCK!!!
Kid Rock began frantically working the controls. “Pay no attention to that poseur behind the curtain!” he exclaimed trying to get us to believe that the Great Nuge, the Wizard of Mich was not a giant phony. But alas, it was all for nothing. The Nuge was really Kid Rock. In fact lots of things in Michigan were really controlled by Kid Rock, including Hungry Howies, Arnies, and lip dubbing. No matter what type of business, what type of hobby, what type of music genre, Kid Rock was in charge. I will admit he was quite the entrepeneur.
But that wasn’t going to get me home, nor was it going to bring back Seger’s career, Vernor’s caffeine, or Suh’s ability to tackle. It seemed so utterly hopeless. Until…Tim Allen appeared. The Good Tool Man of the North came down and asked us what was the matter. We explained what had happened. He admitted that he knew the Wizard of Mich was Kid Rock all along. In fact all Michiganders knew this and had granted him dictatorial powers long ago. The Tool Man explained that he knew I wouldn’t agree to kill Michael Moore unless they created this whole story involving the Great Nuge. They needed a Southerner…an outsider to free them from the scourge of the Loony Leftist. Locals were too under his spell. As much as they hated Moore, no Michigander can openly criticize anyone else from Michigan. It is in their charter. This was how Moore exploited and controlled the state. Kid Rock apologized to me and to my companions and said he wouldn’t be able to help us but I was welcome to stay in Michigan.
It was then and only then that I began to cry. I was to be stuck there forever in a land run by Kid Rock. The Tool Man told me to calm down and that he had the answer for all of us. He told Bob Seger that he didn’t have any soul, but that you didn’t need soul in a state who’s musical giants were the aforementioned Mr. Rock and his right hand man Uncle Kracker. Seger then realized he could be back on the charts in no time. The Tool Man then reminded the Vernor Can that he didn’t need caffeine because he never had any caffeine to begin with. Michael Moore simply had made the “changing formula” story up to get people to stop drinking Vernors. The Tool Man promised that Kid Rock and him would work to remove the mandatory recycling laws that were killing Vernor’s relatives. He then told Suh that with Michael Moore gone, Roger Goodell would soon be out of a job. Kid Rock would perform concerts at Ford Field bringing more mulleted fans to the stadium to chant, cheer, denounce, bully, and threaten their way into getting the NFL rules changed. Who knows?…the Lions might even win the Super Bowl.
As for Julep and me he told us we could go home any time we wished. We always had that power. He told me to click the yellow sneakers three times and say “there’s no blog like my own…there’s no blog like my own…there’s no blog like my own…” and that since this was my own blog, I could have just drawn myself out of this story any time I wanted to.
“Oh” I said. “Right.”