Recent Thoughts Of Richard Heene, Self-Proclaimed 'Psyentist' and Father Of "Balloon Boy"
October 3, 2009
Oh my God, what am I doing with my life?
I mean, really? “Psyentist”? That’s what I’ve been calling myself? That’s a title that I willingly self-applied? Psyentist!? It sounds like some sort of faggy electronic music duo! For God’s sake, I don’t even have a psyence degree! I just like fucking around in my garage and following tornadoes around!
Where did I go wrong? This contracting business isn’t working out at all, the UFO search is turning up bubkis, and nobody takes my psyence seriously!
Well, actually, in their defense, me spelling it like that probably isn’t helping matters.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to be on Wife Swap again. Those were the days – attention, cameras, craft table, people listening to me… I mean, in that regard I really was a pioneer in the field of psyence – the first psyentist ever to be on Wife Swap! Sure, that Duane Burroughs asshole on www.realamericanpsyentists.com has his grainy footage of Bigfoot masturbating, but did he get to trade in his wife on national TV? Twice? Yeah, that video might have made him the darling of the psyentific community for now, but sooner or later his 15 minutes will be up, and he sure as hell isn’t going to have a complimentary box set of the first five seasons of a certain ABC reality program.
That’s what I really need – I need to get another 15 minutes of fame. Only this time, I won’t waste my time swapping wives; I’ll dazzle the world with untold psyentific wonders and stand proudly before them, a bold new American god!
Easier said than done, though. How am I going to get the country’s attention? To get in the national spotlight, you need to use something that everybody finds interesting. Like children. Or things that fly.
…oh, dear, I do believe I’m onto something.
October 5th, 2009
Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I’ve had the balloon back here all along – sure, if I send one of the kids up in it I won’t be able to use it for all those alternative transportation experiments anymore, but on the other hand the Segway pretty much has me beat there anyway.
All I’ve got to do is give one of the little bastards a fiver and have him hide in the attic while I cast the balloon off, and viola! I’m in the spotlight, I can blame the kid for tampering with the balloon and squandering thousands of taxpayer dollars, and then I unveil my blueprints for the hydroelectric urinal on national TV!
God damn, I love smoking crack.
I should smoke this much crack every day.
October 14th, 2009
It’s settled. I’m using Falcon. Here I’d thought it was going to be difficult to decide which of my kids I was going to humiliate on a national stage, but then Falcon up and hit me with a “Wild Draw Four” when I was about to school his ass at Uno last night. It’s like, why do they even put that card in the game? Do they want you not to win?
Family game night shall be your undoing, young Falcon…
October 15th, 2009, 11:30 AM
Shit. You called the news station before you called 911.
No, it’s cool, it’s cool – nobody’s going to notice. Who checks these things? And who’s going to give you any shit about it? Remember, your son is supposedly trapped in a homemade balloon flying across the state. You’re a frightened parent! You’re under a lot of emotional duress! You’re so worried about your son’s well being that you neglected to call 911 right away! That happens all the time, right?
Shit.
October 15th, 2009, 1:40 PM
“To the editors of www.psyentificamerican.blogspot.com: I received your request for an interview regarding my son’s tragic balloon escapade, and would like to respond with a request of my own – kindly jump up my butt!”
That’ll teach those sly bastards to call Amanda Snuggie a genius when everybody knows she just stole my prototype for the Blanket With Arms 2000.
Oh, hey – looks like the balloon finally landed. Figure I’ll let Falcon sweat it out in that box for a couple hours before I “discover” him.
Not so big without your Wild Draw Four card now, are you? Huh?
October 15th, 2009, 9:05 PM
He did not just say that. Oh shit. He did not just say that. Did I… Yes. Yes, I’m about 89 percent sure I just pooped myself a little.
“We did it for the show”!? What’s your angle, you precocious little shit? Don’t play dumb – was the $5 not good enough for you? Did you want a later bedtime? Did you want me to lift my ban on grape Kool Aid? You could have had it if you’d just goddamn asked, instead of blowing my whole plan out of the water in front of the entire country, not to mention Wolf fucking Blitzer!
And all this right before I was going to segue into my pitch for the hydroelectric urinal! “Say, Wolf, did you ever wonder if, by putting turbines in urinals, we could generate electricity? Well, I sure did – and I’ve got the blueprints right here for a system that could generate enough peelectricity to power Denver for a year!”
Nope! Not anymore! Way to go, Falcon – your greed and inability to negotiate has deprived the world of a revolutionary form of alternative energy. Good luck getting laid in high school now, douche-nozzle.
Okay, easy now Rick – cameras are still rolling. Just play it cool. Laugh it off. You can deal with that little walking condom advertisement later. Just say what you need to say to keep your ass out of the frying pan and end this interview.
So help me God, I will use that peelectricity line some day…
October 16th, 2009
Wow. This is some boy I’ve raised. Most kids would only vomit once on national television, but my Falcon? Twice. Both times when asked whether the balloon thing was a hoax or not – arguably the worst times to do something that implies that your conscience isn’t clear. Like, y’know, puking.
He’s like some kind of special robot designed to ruin his father’s life.
If he’d only puked once, we could have covered for that. Kids puke. It’s just a thing they do. Or if he’d puked for two different questions. But twice for the same question, on two different shows? Nobody can deny that there’s a correlation there. It’s psyence.
I am so fucked.
October 17th, 2009
Hey, who knew ordinary citizens could call press conferences?
Some old colleague of mine sold me up the river and from the sound of things the sheriff, the National Guard, and the FAA aren’t too pleased. So what does Richard Heene do?
He solves the problem.
All I’ve got to do is call a press conference and tell everyone I’m going to make an announcement. When the press gets here, I have them write down their questions on pieces of paper and stick them in a cardboard box. Then, I tell them I’ll read their questions and answer them later.
Then I just head on back into the house and peace the hell out to Mexico in the balloon. Meanwhile, I have the family tell the cops I’m hiding in a box in the garage. By the time they figure out the box is empty and I’m actually in the balloon, it’ll be too late.
I would’ve got away with it, too, if it wasn’t for that meddling kid.
This was supposed to be my day in the sun, and instead Falcon gets all the attention! Balloon Boy, they’re calling him! Who designed the balloon? Who created the boy? Nobody cares!
And is that selfish little bastard giving any credit where credit is due? No! He’s just sitting there at the center of a media circus I created for him, and I haven’t heard so much as a “Thanks, Pop!”
I can’t imagine how somebody could have so little regard for a family member’s feelings.
Truman Capps thinks that "Wife Swap" didn't have any credibility to lose.
Oh my God, what am I doing with my life?
I mean, really? “Psyentist”? That’s what I’ve been calling myself? That’s a title that I willingly self-applied? Psyentist!? It sounds like some sort of faggy electronic music duo! For God’s sake, I don’t even have a psyence degree! I just like fucking around in my garage and following tornadoes around!
Where did I go wrong? This contracting business isn’t working out at all, the UFO search is turning up bubkis, and nobody takes my psyence seriously!
Well, actually, in their defense, me spelling it like that probably isn’t helping matters.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to be on Wife Swap again. Those were the days – attention, cameras, craft table, people listening to me… I mean, in that regard I really was a pioneer in the field of psyence – the first psyentist ever to be on Wife Swap! Sure, that Duane Burroughs asshole on www.realamericanpsyentists.com has his grainy footage of Bigfoot masturbating, but did he get to trade in his wife on national TV? Twice? Yeah, that video might have made him the darling of the psyentific community for now, but sooner or later his 15 minutes will be up, and he sure as hell isn’t going to have a complimentary box set of the first five seasons of a certain ABC reality program.
That’s what I really need – I need to get another 15 minutes of fame. Only this time, I won’t waste my time swapping wives; I’ll dazzle the world with untold psyentific wonders and stand proudly before them, a bold new American god!
Easier said than done, though. How am I going to get the country’s attention? To get in the national spotlight, you need to use something that everybody finds interesting. Like children. Or things that fly.
…oh, dear, I do believe I’m onto something.
October 5th, 2009
Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I’ve had the balloon back here all along – sure, if I send one of the kids up in it I won’t be able to use it for all those alternative transportation experiments anymore, but on the other hand the Segway pretty much has me beat there anyway.
All I’ve got to do is give one of the little bastards a fiver and have him hide in the attic while I cast the balloon off, and viola! I’m in the spotlight, I can blame the kid for tampering with the balloon and squandering thousands of taxpayer dollars, and then I unveil my blueprints for the hydroelectric urinal on national TV!
God damn, I love smoking crack.
I should smoke this much crack every day.
October 14th, 2009
It’s settled. I’m using Falcon. Here I’d thought it was going to be difficult to decide which of my kids I was going to humiliate on a national stage, but then Falcon up and hit me with a “Wild Draw Four” when I was about to school his ass at Uno last night. It’s like, why do they even put that card in the game? Do they want you not to win?
Family game night shall be your undoing, young Falcon…
October 15th, 2009, 11:30 AM
Shit. You called the news station before you called 911.
No, it’s cool, it’s cool – nobody’s going to notice. Who checks these things? And who’s going to give you any shit about it? Remember, your son is supposedly trapped in a homemade balloon flying across the state. You’re a frightened parent! You’re under a lot of emotional duress! You’re so worried about your son’s well being that you neglected to call 911 right away! That happens all the time, right?
Shit.
October 15th, 2009, 1:40 PM
“To the editors of www.psyentificamerican.blogspot.com: I received your request for an interview regarding my son’s tragic balloon escapade, and would like to respond with a request of my own – kindly jump up my butt!”
That’ll teach those sly bastards to call Amanda Snuggie a genius when everybody knows she just stole my prototype for the Blanket With Arms 2000.
Oh, hey – looks like the balloon finally landed. Figure I’ll let Falcon sweat it out in that box for a couple hours before I “discover” him.
Not so big without your Wild Draw Four card now, are you? Huh?
October 15th, 2009, 9:05 PM
He did not just say that. Oh shit. He did not just say that. Did I… Yes. Yes, I’m about 89 percent sure I just pooped myself a little.
“We did it for the show”!? What’s your angle, you precocious little shit? Don’t play dumb – was the $5 not good enough for you? Did you want a later bedtime? Did you want me to lift my ban on grape Kool Aid? You could have had it if you’d just goddamn asked, instead of blowing my whole plan out of the water in front of the entire country, not to mention Wolf fucking Blitzer!
And all this right before I was going to segue into my pitch for the hydroelectric urinal! “Say, Wolf, did you ever wonder if, by putting turbines in urinals, we could generate electricity? Well, I sure did – and I’ve got the blueprints right here for a system that could generate enough peelectricity to power Denver for a year!”
Nope! Not anymore! Way to go, Falcon – your greed and inability to negotiate has deprived the world of a revolutionary form of alternative energy. Good luck getting laid in high school now, douche-nozzle.
Okay, easy now Rick – cameras are still rolling. Just play it cool. Laugh it off. You can deal with that little walking condom advertisement later. Just say what you need to say to keep your ass out of the frying pan and end this interview.
So help me God, I will use that peelectricity line some day…
October 16th, 2009
Wow. This is some boy I’ve raised. Most kids would only vomit once on national television, but my Falcon? Twice. Both times when asked whether the balloon thing was a hoax or not – arguably the worst times to do something that implies that your conscience isn’t clear. Like, y’know, puking.
He’s like some kind of special robot designed to ruin his father’s life.
If he’d only puked once, we could have covered for that. Kids puke. It’s just a thing they do. Or if he’d puked for two different questions. But twice for the same question, on two different shows? Nobody can deny that there’s a correlation there. It’s psyence.
I am so fucked.
October 17th, 2009
Hey, who knew ordinary citizens could call press conferences?
Some old colleague of mine sold me up the river and from the sound of things the sheriff, the National Guard, and the FAA aren’t too pleased. So what does Richard Heene do?
He solves the problem.
All I’ve got to do is call a press conference and tell everyone I’m going to make an announcement. When the press gets here, I have them write down their questions on pieces of paper and stick them in a cardboard box. Then, I tell them I’ll read their questions and answer them later.
Then I just head on back into the house and peace the hell out to Mexico in the balloon. Meanwhile, I have the family tell the cops I’m hiding in a box in the garage. By the time they figure out the box is empty and I’m actually in the balloon, it’ll be too late.
I would’ve got away with it, too, if it wasn’t for that meddling kid.
This was supposed to be my day in the sun, and instead Falcon gets all the attention! Balloon Boy, they’re calling him! Who designed the balloon? Who created the boy? Nobody cares!
And is that selfish little bastard giving any credit where credit is due? No! He’s just sitting there at the center of a media circus I created for him, and I haven’t heard so much as a “Thanks, Pop!”
I can’t imagine how somebody could have so little regard for a family member’s feelings.
Truman Capps thinks that "Wife Swap" didn't have any credibility to lose.