Tag Archives: interviews

A Year Later: My Interview with Anastacia Campbell

It’s been one year since Stacy Campbell left us. Her sense of humor was as legendary as her eye for beauty, and the world hasn’t been the same without her. She was sarcastic, dark, absurd, brilliant, and compassionate, and she touched each of us with her words, her photos, or her soul. She was my soul sister, my best friend, and one of the great loves of my life. And here, at the one year anniversary of her death, I knew that it was time to elevate her to the same level as every celebrity I’ve ever fake interviewed by fake interviewing her. She is a celebrity – she was Jürgen Nation. She was Indie Ink. She was Anastacia. She was Stacy Fucking Campbell.

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Me: Hi, Stacy.

SFC: Well, harumph! Never did I ever antici . . . pate that I’d be the subject of one of my bestie’s interviews, but *she says while fanning herself furiously*, I didn’t think it would take THIS GD LONG. There’s only so much waiting a lady can do, sitting idly whilst hemming and hawing until her bearded devil man shows up to ask her a bunch of questions that will, natch, bring about the gnashing of teeth and tearing up of the eye-parts that I imagine occurs regularly when he plies his authorial skills.

Me: I really should have done this a while ago, but I wasn’t ready. Not that you can ever be ready for this. And to be honest, I was mad at you. Hell, Stace, I’m still mad at you.

SFC: Oof, let’s explore that. Are you mad because (A) I stood by my words and did what I said I was going to do and even you, with all your manliness and super powers, couldn’t convince me not to, (B) I forgot to send you the power-of-attorney, resulting in a bevy of vituperative and borderline despicable actions being taken by those whom never meant a lick to me, compared you and my closest besties, or (C) it’s easier than being sad, even though sadness is an emotion we need for that chance to really, truly, indubitably, zoobilee zooily FEEL happiness?

Me: D, All of the above, plus E-Z?

SFC: *checks with judges*. Looks like we’ll allow it, but I counter with this, dearest Addy: Life is a highway (unintentional hat-tip to Tom Cochrane) with people getting on and getting off, and all of us just scurrying around (like rats because it’s a rat race – METAPHORS!) waiting for our exit, and maybe you’re mostly mad (which is like being mostly dead, but without Miracle Max running around yelling Humperdink) because my exit came up before yours. Huh? What do you say? You can’t argue with my logic?

*drops mic* *dances a little, realizes nobody’s dancing with her, asks Steph why nobody will dance with her*

Me: Maybe a little. But I’m also mad that you had all of us, and you didn’t come to us. You had Stephanie, Tom, Krystyna, Tia, Racheal, and me, as well as everyone else – all of the family and friends and people out there – and we would have moved mountains for you. If you’d only asked.

SFC: Oh, my dear Addy, don’t you know how much I knew that? I knew that I could pick up the phone, and you’d be there, shovel in hand, not to move the mountain, mind you, but to help me bury the bodies. That’s how much I knew I could count on you.

Me: Yeah, but instead, we buried you.

SFC: Ooof, she repeats, taking another solid blow. Not nice to try to lay ye ol’ guilt trip on your bestie when she’s already been gone for a year. First of all, I’m like Teflon, baby, and guilt just slides off me like a pair of fried eggs. And secondly . . . well, wait, it’s time for me to ask you questions. Would you say that I was a relatively (compared to gen pop) intelligent and savvy gal with an equally savvy understanding of the world? *bats eyes*

Me: Yes, absolutely. You had a level of understanding that most people don’t even realize is possible, and can’t even try to aspire to reach. You were someone who just knew when to be there for someone, and what to say to make their lives better. It’s why you were my beautiful soul sister, and meant just as much to so many others as you did to me.

SFC: A simple yes would be sufficient. Flattery is unnecessary! Next question – was I someone with no brain waves, an individual under the age of consent, or a non-human (none of whom can give consent anyway), or was I a fully (relatively so) functioning adult?

Me: Sigh.

SFC: NO SIGHING IN BASEBALL, ADS! Answer me. Yes or no – was I an adult?

Me: Yes. You were an adult.

SFC: So, if it pleases the court (even though it appears the judge is not wearing pants YET AGAIN), would you in fact say that my choices were mine as a functioning, intelligent adult, and that your anger is less about me, and more about you? That you, in frustration of your lack of control, have decided to be mad because that’s something you can understand?

*picks up mic, drops it again*

Me: Fucker. I’m used to being the one who’s always right, you know.

SFC: Ha! I say again, HA! You, like every other of us who is trying to sort through life, make mistakes. Our flaws are us. They’re why you’re as beautiful as you are hairy (and won’t you reconsider letting me give you the name of a nice laser removal gent?) and why I love you so. I know you’re mad. But cut that out, starting now. This was my exit. Don’t go away mad, just don’t go away (apologies to the auteur Vince Neil).

Me: I’m still here. Always and forever. Even if we only got to have one true adventure.

SFC: But it was an adventure for the fucking record books! Thrusting trepidation to the side, trespassing while traversing the tangled theme park (alliteration totally INTENDED). And we had so many more planned – the catacombs, ghost hunting, a commune and life together with the most creative and wonderful people in the world, Australia, the world, just me and my bestie.

Me: I miss you, Stacy. So terribly.

SFC: Quit it. You had me! You got me on a level that almost nobody did. And you have memories and pictures and the Story of Us, and that will never change. But missing people is what sad people do. Don’t miss me – go make more memories with people like me. People who inspire you, who believe in you, who know who you truly are (even if you keep sticking to that tall tale of you being the meanest Becky on the block, I’ll always know the truth, the whole truth, and nuthin but it).

Can I get back to the highway analogy (looks like the judges said yes) and say that when you’re racing that sporty little red Miata with the hot blonde, and she gets off at her exit, you don’t get sad. You find another car to race, a billboard to read, a guy picking his nose to make fun of. You keep driving, and you don’t stop until your GPS says (in a sultry Stacy Bot voice) “Take the next exit”.

Me: And then?

SFC: And that’s when I’ll see you. Drinks are on me.

**********************************************************

Would you potentially be interested in a coffee table book that collects all of my and Stacy’s photos (like the ones below) from our journey through the abandoned Six Flags in New Orleans? Leave your name and email address below to be notified when more information is available:

six_flags_001

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Today’s post was brought to you by this song on repeat:

My interview with Rosa Parks

Sixty years ago today, Rosa Parks’s refusal to give in to the demands of a bus driver and relinquish her seat to a white passenger was a catalyst for a movement towards racial equality, a movement that’s still slowly progressing today. I thought today would be a great time to publish my posthumuous interview with her:

Avitable Interviews Rosa Parks

Me:  White people, amirite?

Rosa Parks:  Indeed. Though I wish it were as simple as education and awareness. 

Me:  You mean to say that liking a post on Facebook and sharing it, plus changing my profile picture, isn’t going to bring an end to systemic racism?

RP:  While that type of awareness can create fruitful conversations that may generate positive results, I think it will take so much more before people of color will be truly equal.

Me:  I think that movements like #BlackLivesMatter have the ability to effect real change if the voices are loud enough and the message is clear enough.

RP:  I would consider it a victory if we could simply educate those who respond with “All lives matter” as to why they’re being ignorant and offensive.

Me:  Here’s how I look at it. My birthday is on January 26th. I’m going to throw a party, and I expect people to bring presents, and I’m going to eat some cake. What if, every time someone wished me “Happy birthday”, someone else said “we all were born and have birthdays, so shouldn’t we all get presents?” And then I’d get mad and be all “But this moment is for me because you can have all the other moments. Right now, we’re here to celebrate the day that I showed up and graced the world with my presence. And now you don’t get any damn cake.” #MyBirthdayMatters

RP:  Hmm. Well, yes, I guess. So many of those defensive bigots don’t understand that the actual message is closer to “Black lives matter too”. Nobody’s arguing that all lives don’t matter. In fact, that is probably one of the stupidest arguments out there. But when you’re seeing black citizens mistreated at the hands of police officers who have little to no accountability, there is nothing more important than the lives of those who are being snuffed out without reason nor consequence.

Me:  And without cake.

RP:  Umm, yes.

Me:  Don’t you think it would be nice if everyone had the maturity and compassion to simply admit that our society, while still amazing, is broken in a few major areas, and that rather than acting defensively or selfishly and instead of remaining ignorant and misinformed, we promised to listen to our fellow human being, treat him or her with love and thoughtfulness, and stand up for the rights of everyone to be treated equally? And then eat birthday cake?

RP:  I do. Even though I’m not a big fan of cake.

Me:  You’re not?

RP:  No. I have a self-diagnosed gluten allergy and avoid sugar because it can make you autistic.

Me:  Wha?

RP:  I’m just playing.

Me:  Who knew you had such a sense of humor?

RP:  Most people saw me as this extremely serious, almost dour woman, but the truth is I was a lot of fun to be around. In fact, here’s a little trivia about that bus ride that I’ve never told anyone.

Me:  Ooh. Let’s hear it!

RP:  I was actually taking the bus to a Syrian refugee’s house because he was a Muslim-born pagan witch doctor who performed abortions when he wasn’t planning terrorist acts, and I was pregnant with a baby from my orgy with a transgendered couple.

Me:  You still playin?

RP:  You know it.

Me:  Let’s have some cake.

RP:  Chocolate?

Me:  Of course!


Have you ever wanted to know what Michael Jackson’s last words were after he died? What about Amy Winehouse? Whitney Houston? Osama bin Laden? Hitler? Reagan? And about 50 more?Read more fake interviews with dead celebrities by buying my book today!

Interviews with Dead Celebrities, a book by Adam Heath Avitable

My Interview with Neil Armstrong

Neil Armstrong, astronaut

Name: Neil Armstrong
Born: August 5, 1930
Died: August 25, 2012
Profession(s): American astronaut

Best known for: Neil Armstrong was the first person to walk on the Moon, speaking the immortal words “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”, not as originally reported by The Onion, “HOLY SHIT I’M ON THE FUCKING MOON!”

Fun fake fact: Armstrong sued singer Michael Jackson for claiming that he did the world’s first moonwalk. The case was settled out of court.

***

Avitable: Sir, may I just say that you are a legend, and it’s a pleasure to get to speak with you.
Armstrong: Thank you, but there is no reason to moon over me. I’m not anything special, though. Just an engineer, professor, test pilot, naval officer, and guy who went into space and walked on the Moon. Just your average Joe.

Avitable: That’s it, eh?
Armstrong: Well, after I went to the Moon, I also received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Congressional Space Medal of Honor, and the Congressional Gold Medal.

Avitable: The Congressional Space Medal of Honor? That sounds like a fake medal that was just created for astronauts. Did it have chocolate on the inside? Did you also get the Congressional Super Fantastic Medal For Guys Who Went Into Space?
Armstrong: How’d you guess? I got another one too. It was called the Congressional Medal For Old Guys Who Could Kick Your Fat Ass.

Avitable: Message received. Let’s move on. What do you have to say to that small yet vocal group of people who persist in claiming that the moon landing was a hoax?
Armstrong: Well, now that I’m dead, I don’t have to keep the secret anymore. It was a giant Moon hoax.

Avitable: What?!?
Armstrong: Yeah, we didn’t really land on the Moon. America needed one in the win column, so we rigged the whole thing.

Avitable: I don’t believe you.
Armstrong: It was all done on a sound stage and we actually had Stan Winston, the famous special effects artist, do everything. The moon job was his very first job right after he graduated from college.

Avitable: I don’t even know what to say.
Armstrong: It’s not that we couldn’t have gone to the Moon. We might have made it. But it was just easier to fake the whole thing, and make a secret moon trip up there later for Moon colonization.

Avitable: Colonization?
Armstrong: Yeah, it was President Nixon’s idea. He had his limitations, but he saw where the world was going and wanted to make a moon haven for the right people on the Moon.

Avitable: Are you saying that there are people living on the moon right now?
Armstrong: That’s right.

Avitable: Who?
Armstrong: About 10,000 Americans have been transported to The United States of Amoonica over the last 60 years. They have democratic moon elections and a functioning moon government up there, though there’s some moon conflict right now.

Avitable: What’s going on?
Armstrong: Well, this one candidate is getting flack because some of the Amoonicans are claiming he was born on Earth, not the Moon. And the other candidate is being accused of hoarding space bucks and having filed fraudulent moon returns.

Avitable: It’s eerie how much that parallels what’s going on here, too.
Armstrong: It definitely is, and right now the entire Amoonican population is polarized and fighting over petty moon issues instead of trying to work together. Since I was the first person on the Moon during our real, top secret trip there, I’m an honorary Amoonican citizen, but I can’t decide who to vote for, either.

Avitable: Who are the candidates?
Armstrong: Spacerock Moonbama and Moon Romney.

Avitable: Hold on a second. Is there some way you can prove this to me? I think you’re lying.
Armstrong: Yes I can. I’ll show you Amoonica! Look! *points to a corner of the room*

Avitable: Ummm, that’s a diorama made with Playdoh and filled with dolls.
Armstrong: Welcome to the United States of Moon!

Avitable: I thought it was called Amoonica.
Armstrong: You’re ruining everything!

Avitable: I’m thinking that maybe your time on the Moon may have made you a little obsessed with it. 
Armstrong: Moon you, you mooning mothermooner! Moon moon moon moon moony moon.


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Interviews with Dead Celebrities, a book by Adam Heath Avitable

My Interview with George Carlin

Today, June 22nd, is the fourth anniversary of comedian George Carlin’s death, and I thought I’d use this opportunity to posthumously interview him. Better late than never!

Adam Avitable interviews George Carlin

Me:  Thanks for taking the time to speak with me, Mr. Carlin.

GC:  The pleasure is all mine. Why do people say that? All mine. That pleasure right there? It belongs to ME and YOU can’t have any! It’s mine and mine alone. I’m taking all the pleasure with me when I leave. Say goodbye to pleasure!

Me:  Really?

GC:  What?

Me:  Well, usually when I do these fake interviews, I never know where I’m going to go with them and what I’m going to say, but I just try to disassociate myself from my own voice and write like I think the deceased would write.  This time, though, I told myself that I wasn’t going to try to do anything sounding like one of your bits, because I wouldn’t be able to do them justice. But here we go and the first thing I write is a bit.

GC:  Obviously that’s what popped into your virtual George Carlin head.

Me:  I guess. And if you read it aloud with a raspy New York accent, I guess it might pass as an old Carlin joke.

GC:  That’s the spirit. Not that I fuckin’ care – I’m dead.

Me:  How is that going, by the way?

GC:  What? Death?

Me:  Yeah. Is there a heaven or a hell? Were all of your rants on religion wrong or right?

GC:  I have no clue. It’s only been four years and I’m still waiting in line. This does make me think that maybe there is a God, though, because he definitely made the DMV in his own image.

Me:  Well, that’s unfortunate. I was hoping to get some answers about the afterlife.

GC:  Why? Why do you need answers about after your life? How about just living and enjoying your life, being a good person, helping those who need it, not being one of those pricks who thinks his shit don’t stink, and enjoy your NOW life? You can get to the afterlife after!

Me:  That’s a good point – maybe if the world had just listened to you more, we’d be in a better place right now.

GC:  Damn right you would be – the world is so concerned with who’s fucking whom and who’s talking to whom and who’s marrying whom and having a sex change to turn into whom and how to properly use whom that nobody is focusing on themselves. Look to yourself before you ever fuckin’ dare judge someone else for any action or choice they make.

Me:  Who would have guessed that this fake interview would have been such a paragon of inspiration?

GC:  Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not that fuckin’ great. The whole world could do with a helping of humble pie. We should take the Snookis and Kardashians and Paris Hiltons and Glenn Becks and Rush Limbaughs and Howard Sterns and Miley Cyruses and every other twat and cocksucker in the world and strap them down to a giant highchair, because nobody can be dignified or immodest when their feet are dangling three feet from the ground, and force-feed them some humble pie until they start to choke on it.

Me:  Agreed.

GC:  And then we need to equip every single iPhone with a new ring tone that only goes off when you’re in a movie theater or a restaurant or any other place where common fuckin’ decency should dictate, but doesn’t seem to anymore, that you keep your conversation focused on the people in your physical presence, and that ring tone will go off loud and clear with every ring and every text and just say “DOOOUUUUCHHHEEBAGGG” like a giant douchebag alert foghorn.

Me:  I would agree to that, too, but my phone might do that sometimes. I can’t help it.

GC:  You can help it. You’re just like every other entitled prick out there who thinks that he’s so important that he has to text and email and Facebook and fuckin’ Twitter while ignoring his friends who are sitting right there, willing and ready to engage him in normal, healthy socializing.

Me:  Speaking of Twitter, what do you-

GC:  Fuck Twitter. Fuck Facebook. And fuck you.

Thanks to Loukia for the idea. Did you enjoy this interview? Check out my other dead (mostly) celebrity (mostly) interviews (actually written by me!) in the sidebar –>

My Interview with Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451, died today at the age of 91, and once again, I sat down for a posthumous interview.

Me: Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Bradbury.

RB: It’s my pleasure – I’ve always enjoyed meeting with fans and it was such a regret to not have the energy to continue going to conventions in 2009.

Me: Well, that’s the thing. I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t really know who you are.

RB: What?

Me: Yeah . . . I mean, I know you’re the sci-fi guy, but that’s about it. I’ve heard of Fahrenheit 451, but I’ve never read it.

RB: So why are you interviewing me, then, if you’re unfamiliar with my work?

Me: Well, I saw a lot of people on Facebook and Twitter talking about you, so I thought that I’d give it a shot.

RB: Ah, the Internet, that great bloated boil on the world.

Me: You don’t like the Internet?

RB: No! It’s too much. People don’t hold conversations anymore, they text and Twitter-

Me: Tweet.

RB: What?

Me: People don’t Twitter. They use Twitter, but the action is called a tweet.

RB: Whatever – it sounds as ridiculous as it is!  We have to get rid of all of these machines. There are too many machines.

Me: So you’re a science fiction writer who doesn’t like technology?  Isn’t that like being a Southern chef but not liking butter?

RB: No.

Me: You do like technology?

RB: No, I’m not a science fiction author.

Me: You’re not?

RB: No. I don’t write science fiction.  Fahrenheit 451 was based on reality, and my otheer well-known book, Martian Chronicles, is fantasy.

Me: Potato/pahtahto. Let’s get back to this really weird concept that you don’t like technology. Hasn’t it helped your life?

RB: Not that I can see.

Me: Do you think that your continued popularity among new generations of nerds would have existed if it hadn’t been for the existence of the Internet?

RB: I suspect that, had the Internet not been developed, people would still go to libraries, and books that made any type of impact on people would be present, and across the world, in libraries, people would read those books.

Me: And maybe librarians could share with each other which books were the most popular and encourage their visitors to read those books.

RB: Yes!

Me: And maybe a system could be developed where if one library had a shortage of a book, other libraries could send it through some type of expedited travel so that it could be immediately available.

RB: That would be fantastic.

Me: I agree! And maybe there could be a book that could actually contain multiple books within, so that each library could hold all of the worthwhile books that had been created as the world’s population grew and as new authors arose.

RB: It’s so nice to see someone of your age who agrees with me!

Me: And then, and this might be crazy, you could participate in discussions about your favorite books and authors with fans across the world simultaneously, which would whet your appetite for new books and new authors that you’d never have considered before, which could be sent to you instantaneously so you could start reading whenever the thought occurred to you!

RB: That doesn’t sound crazy – it sounds like a fantastic world.

Me: Oh wait. That already exists.

RB: It does?

Me: Yeah – this is my Kindle. It has 1500 books on it, and I can share the books I’ve read online and engage in intellectual, fruitful discussion about them with other fans.  We can even share books with each other immediately.  All thanks to the Internet and those infernal machines.

RB: Hmm.

Me: Yes?

RB: I’m a terrible science fiction author.

Me: Agreed.

Enjoy this interview? Check out my other dead (mostly) celebrity (mostly) interviews (actually written by me!) in the sidebar –>