He's in development

I'm typing this in a very uncomfortable position and have been asked to take "dictation" from the big man. Dictation may or not mean what you think.

Best we can figure, sometime in the past half hour, McDougal got into the tour bus's freon reserve and has augmented his buzz by drinking all of the brake fluid and anti-freeze from the engine. He is, as best we can tell, celebrating the recent deal he's signed with Starbox Pictures to be the subject of a seven-figure documentary about his 2008 Presidential campaign.

We are unsure of whether anything has been inked or if any cash has changed hands, but I would guess that the big guy has at least secured some kind of retainer; as it is generally his policy not to talk to anyone in the media without a payment of some kind (generally ranging from fellatio to bus fare or a 40-ounce beer or sometimes up to $64,000).

We're currently somewhere in Canada, but I'm not sure where, as McDougal has built a 2-foot-thick concrete and steel barrier separating the driver from the rest of the bus (a barrier, McDougal explained, that was necessary to prevent acts of terrorism that he suspects our driver may be planning. The driver is named Hoakey and is an Inuit, which McDougal explained was "too brown to be trusted."). One of our interns had GPS on his cell phone, but when McDougal realized we knew where we were, he beat the intern to death with a sock full of hand sanitizer and $3.00 in nickels and ate the phone. McDougal has yet to pass the phone, but is convinced now that he's made a mistake, as he believes John Ashcroft now has a direct read on his location.

"He'll put a Pershing missile smack dab in the middle of my large intestine without batting a fascist eye," he explained to the border guard when we crossed into Canada. He then told him our nation's "top secret" plan to keep "dirty foreigners" out of our "morally pristine" country.

"We're building a 700-mile wall across the Pacific Ocean," he said. "That way we can keep out the Haitians AND the sharks."

McDougal's eratic behavior was enough to prompt a search of the bus, which was shockingly innefectual, as the guards and the drug-sniffing dogs were unable to locate the six pounds of hash, three dead bodies, and $8 Million in stolen Inca gold stored in the floorboard.

They did, however, "discover" McDougal's 60-pound bag of Habanero Doritos, which they immediately confiscated to "conduct flavor tests on volunteers from the local community."

But I digress.

Seems this smarmy producer type wants to make a movie about the legend of McDougal. And McDougal's been off his rocker since they spoke.

I'm not sure what bill of goods this kid sold him, as McDougal has already turned down movie rights from George Lucas, Terry Gilliam, and the Polish Brothers. Rumor in the camp is that Steven Spielberg was given the green light to produce and direct McDougal's unauthorized biography and had cast Marlon Brando to play the big man. Brando died seven weeks later. Gilliam, I hear, was going to use the Penn brother. And before that there was Candy, Belushi, and the other guy from Boosom Buddies.

You see where this is going, right?

God, how many people have to die?