>>> Bang for Your Buck
By staff writer David Nelson

June 24, 2007

Essential New Word of the Week: sexidence (definition hint: hide the lube!)

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first annual induction ceremony for the Midget Hall of Fame . My name is David Nelson, and you might know me from my tireless work in the field of internet hilarity. But tonight, I’m here for a different reason. A special reason…

Did you know there are over 800 million midgets living in America today? Well, there probably aren’t. I would have no way of knowing. I’m an emcee, not a statistician. But however many little people there are, it’s time we honored them. Their wacky antics fill our lives with joy. They make a positive contribution to the economy with every purchase of a motorized wheelchair or miniature cowboy costume. In short… ahem… they make the world a better place.

“You may be tiny, but you have balls the size of… well, regular person balls.”

Before we get to the inductions, our legal counsel has instructed me to say a few words about terminology and political correctness. We here at the Midget Hall of Fame Selection Committee know that there are many different labels for our honorees. Some are dwarfs, some are midgets. Some prefer to be called “little people,” and the ones who are desperate for attention still cling on to crap like “vertically challenged.”

As I stand before you, I swear in the name of our founding father, Kareem-Abdul Jabbar, that it is not our intention to offend by using the wrong terminology. I don’t know the difference between a midget and a dwarf, and until our sponsors pay to send me to medical school, you little complainers are just going to have to turn the other adorable cheek.

And now, on to business. Folks, when the selection committee approached me to host this, I had a few drunken questions for them. My first question was “Midgets of fame? Inducting the ceremony to the hall? Gotcha.” And when I sobered up, I had a few more questions. Such as “Why the hell is there a Midget Hall of Fame anyway?”

These days, everything has a hall of fame. There’s a Hamburger Hall of Fame in Daytona Beach. Elkhart, Indiana’s star attraction is the RV Hall of Fame. There’s even… get this… a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame located in some podunk town whose name escapes me. If these slices of Americana deserve recognition, then midgets surely do as well. Especially if they’re wearing stars-and-stripes capes, as they so often are.

Speaking of which, our first inductee is a stuntman and skating hero. That might sound like an exaggeration, but I’ve seen him do deep knee-bends while holding NBA player and suspected yeti Shaquille O’Neal on his back. Plus, owing to his unique physiology, he can kick himself in the head. If that’s not a super-power, I don’t know what one is. Of course, I’m speaking of Jackass alum Jason “Wee Man” Acuna.

Some of the stuff Wee Man does is merely funny, like when hid under a pylon and scared the wasabi out of some Japanese businessmen. Other stunts are downright awesome, like the time he paddled a raft made of 100% fat guy across a river. Wee Man is four feet, seven inches of rad, but kids, please don’t re-enact any of the stunts or activities you see him perform. The laws of midget thermodynamics don’t apply to you.

In an age where dwarves get tossed around for entertainment, it’s nice to know that someone is pushing the envelope by having a set of bowling pins, or an electric eel tank to break his fall. Congratulations, Wee Man! You may be tiny, but you have balls the size of… well, regular person balls. Proportionally speaking.

Our next honoree is a legitimate part of baseball history. Well, not so much history, as… I guess… trivia. Don’t snicker; what have you ever done to qualify as a question in Final Jeopardy? Eddie Gaedel was a pint-sized slugger who, like George and Wheezy Jefferson, finally got his piece of the pie.

Gaedel’s appearance was the brainchild of maverick owner Bill Veeck. As a publicity stunt, Veeck had Gaedel pop out of a paper-machiercake between games of a 1951 double-header. And I think we can all agree that Midget-in-a-Cake is a reliable comedy standby, but hardly original. Reporters and fans, promised a big surprise, were disappointed at first. Or as disappointed as one can be upon seeing a miniscule human crawl out of giant pastry.

But Veeck had a master plan. With Gaedel secretly under contract, he was brought in as a pinch hitter. The umpire had no choice but to allow it. His number, incidentally, was 1/8. Although if he really were 1/8 in scale, the corresponding ballplayer would be over 25 feet tall and weigh 520 pounds. And not even Canseco-level steroid consumption could make that happen.

Eddie no doubt wanted to swing for the fences, but Veeck promised to shoot him if he tried. Don’t worry, not one midget corpse was removed from the stadium on that day. That we know of. Facing a pitcher who was laughing hysterically, and with a strike zone the size of a falafel, Gaedel walked on four pitches.

This gave him a lifetime on-base percentage of 100%, which is pretty good when you think about it. Barry Bonds may hit a thousand home runs and be made up of compressed horse testosterone, but he’ll never boast a perfect lifetime on-base percentage. So cheers to you, Eddie. You put the “short” in shortstop. At least you would have, if they allowed you to play a full inning.

We’ll be right back, after these words from our sponsor, Stenson Brothers’ Platform Shoes. Walk tall… with Stenson.

Thank you. Thank you. Tonight we’re celebrating the midget contribution to our society, and if you’ll pardon the pun, that’s a pretty tall order. Ha ha. Don’t blame me folks, I don’t write this stuff. In any case, our next inductee comes from the field of music, where he provided arguably the strongest backup vocals in Kid Rock’s entire midget harem. The one and only, Joe C.

Whether you think Kid Rock’s a derivative novelty act or just another greasy hobo, you have to admit: there’s a certain understated genius to high-pitched, childlike rap vocals. His lyrics constantly reminded audiences that he was 3 foot 9 with a 10-foot dick. I don’t know if that’s been verified, but even a good 7 or 8 feet is more than enough to earn him his place in the Hall of Fame.

Joe C. passed away a few years ago. The premature death of a hard-drinking, drug-using rocker with celiac disease shouldn’t really come as a surprise, but fate is often cruel. How widespread was Joe’s fame? Every kid in the US who isn’t being groomed for spelling bee stardom by hyperactive Indian parents knew about him. Here’s to you, Joe C. I know you’re rocking the party up in midget heaven. Say hi to Billy Barty and Tattoo.

Up next is a pair of groundbreaking actors who recognized TV’s insatiable need for stunted black children living with white families and rushed to fill that need. Emmanuel Lewis and Gary Coleman. You may know them better as Webster and Arnold Jackson. Two underdeveloped peas in a pod.

Armed with nothing more than cuteness, catchphrases, and the unstoppable might of network television, Lewis and Coleman transformed the face of 1980’s prime time. Into something far cuddlier than Kojack or Mannix could provide. Diff’rent Strokes and Webster were smash hits, and I can assure you, it wasn’t because of Todd Bridges or Mr. Papadopolis.

Folks, these two actors inspire me so much… so if I could get serious for a minute… You know, the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you… might not be right for some. Yes, it was you. Then came you. You made me leap without taking a look. I never thought forever was the best I could do, then came you… then came you.

Of course, their careers kind of took a downturn following the cherubic years. Gary Coleman wound up as a security guard, trying not to get smushed by accused shoplifters. And even Michael Jackson stopped returning Emmanuel Lewis’ phone calls. Poor Manny even became a mainstay of that celebrity equivalent of purgatory, The Surreal Life.

But Manny isn’t the only dwarf star in the reality TV constellation. Verne Troyer has also done his time in front of the camera. And trust me, ladies and gentlemen, if drunken midgets peeing in the corner isn’t the stuff of superstardom, well, there might as well not even be a Hall of Fame.

But before Verne’s urinary escapades, he rose to fame in the Austin Powers movies as Mini-Me. And if your star were hitched to Mike Myers, you’d probably have a drinking problem too, so let’s not be judgmental. On movie sets, Verne commands something like $1500 an hour. At 2’7”, that’s more expensive per inch than even the world’s most delicious sausage.

You might think there wouldn’t be a lot of roles available to a high-priced, lecherous homunculus, but you’d be wrong. Troyer has played everything from Harry Potter goblins to Mighty Joe Young baby gorillas. Not even the great Sir Laurence Olivier had that kind of range as an actor.

Apart from that, what impresses me most about Verne Troyer is the fact that he was married to an extremely hot model and yoga expert. Can you imagine the insane midget yoga sex they must have had? The Kama Sutra never considered positions whereby a man could fit his entire body inside his partner’s vagina. The marriage didn’t last, but for giving us something to think about for weeks, Verne, we honor you tonight.

Folks, we’re going to take a quick commercial break, but we’ll be right back after these words from Limb-Lengthening Services of America. Reach for the stars, with the LLSA.

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve had a wonderful time tonight, celebrating the first-ever inductees to the Midget Hall of Fame. But this is an honor that is reserved only for the best that the midget world has to offer. Not every random munchkin or Oompa-Loompa can make it in.

On that note, I must give honorable mention to some of the fine men and women who didn’t make it into the Hall this year. With a little hard work and some positive press, these little inspirations might be inducted soon. As long as they don’t have a growth spurt. In fact, any kind of spurt is probably bad news.

Porn star Bridget the Midget deserves induction for sheer sexiness, if not rhyming ability. But the MHOF is a very traditional organization, and they don’t want the ceremony turning into a circus. Because if there’s one place where midgets don’t belong…

Howard Stern regulars Beetlejuice and Hank the Drunken Dwarf are excluded for the same reason, although they’re every bit as famous as the other D-Listers that frequent his radio show. Also, acceptance speeches might prove to be a problem.

Herve Villechaize, who played Tattoo on FantasyIsland, was a midget of fine character. But his accent was too hard to understand. Also, research indicates nobody born after 1970 has even heard of Fantasy Island, not even Ricardo Montalban’s kids.

Various midget wrestlers deserve mention, but none of them stand out enough to warrant induction. Maybe the best known is Little Beaver, both for his awesome ring name, and for getting squashed by King Kong Bundy. Someday, we’ll find his comically flattened body, I hope.

Danny DeVito was very nearly elected Chief Supreme Spokesmidget by their union, but as far as the MHOF goes, the jury is still out. An investigation into his midgethood is ongoing.

Well, folks, we’ve had a good time tonight, and maybe learned a thing or two as well. Like all people, I used to think that midgets were magical imps who would sneak into my home at night in order to repair my shoes. Now I realize that’s just an exaggeration. Midgets are fine, upstanding people who deserve our respect, no matter what kind of hilarious costume they have to wear.

I want to thank our sponsors, and the MHOF for allowing me to host this memorable occasion. Always remember the MHOF’s motto: “We’ll stop laughing at midgets when they stop being so damned funny.” Good night!

Essential New Word of the Week:

sexidence [‘sEksIdens] n

Depending upon one’s living arrangements, and the promiscuity of one’s sexual partner(s), there are a lot of variables to consider when being paid a visit by someone. Sure, your parents/siblings/friends might know you’re a slob, so you don’t really care if they see a bottle of chocolate milk rotting next to the radiator. But a basket brimming with sex toys is not something that you should ever have to explain. In fact, it’s often easier if your place offers no tangible proof of a sex life at all.

Various items, when left out in the open, comprise sexidence, or evidence that sex has taken place in the vicinity. That bottle of lube on the nightstand? Sexidence. Those handcuffs still attached to the bedboard? Sexidence. Used condoms still visible in the garbage can? Incontrovertible sexidence.

Whenever someone on your “danger list” makes an appearance, you have to sweep your place from top to bottom, so that no sexidence remains. Particularly if it’s your girl’s father paying you a visit. The last thing you need him to see is a VHS video thoughtfully labeled with his daughter’s name and the word “bukkake attempt #4.”