Why Hello There, Neighbor!
How nice of you to stop by! The name's Fred Rogers. You might remember me from television. You know, I'm the guy you used to watch when you were like three years old and too stupid to realize I had no firm grasp of continuity or story progression. I mean, I did the same daily routine for 40 years. Wake up, brush teeth, go for a walk, come back inside, say hello to my friends (who are all toddlers), talk to the stereotypical black mailman who (by no coincidence I might add) happens to be living off of a government job a low-IQ chimpanzee could carry out (hmm, and they took Howard Stern off the air?), then choo-choo my way into the whimsical land of make-believe where a bunch of cheap-ass puppets told "moralistic stories."
Oh, boo-shit. I'm sick of this false fascade. I am not a cheery pervert who enjoys the company of children. The secret must be known:
I was not really the host of the popular children's entertainment show you are all familiar with. From June 9th 1964 - May 23rd 1973, I was active as a Special Ops Agent in the heart of the Vietnam War. In Cambodia I battled armed guerilla forces and rescued over three hundred hostages in a brave suicide attack on the coastal village of San-Juimi (near Pika Pika).
So, you're wondering how I was on television during this? AHA! That's the secret!
I was so popular at the time that PBS feared their ratings would drop, so they got in cahoots with the US government to make a carbon copy of me -- commonly referred to by the layman as a "clone" -- who would occupy your television sets as I slaughtered Cambodian assholes in the jungles.
The Fred Rogers you are all familiar with was created as a test-tube baby in a lab in Texas in December of '63. He had my brain and therefore remembered my memories. I taught him a few things before I left, but was amused to realize he already knew them.
Oh, it was a fun period from December to June of the next year. We frollicked, we picnicked, we even had masturbation on occasion. (Is it really "sex" when you're fucking your clone? I think not.) I was just too damn horny most of the time, and when I began to drool over the little girls in my audience I knew I had to release my bodily fluids. The rest is history....
When I returned from active duties in Vietnam I was appalled to find the ratings had peaked and PBS did not want the "original" Fred Rogers back. I threatened to go public with my story and they shot me full of a lethal memory erasure drug named "Eurstophetamine A-XL," or EAXL for short. I woke up in a gutter in New Mexico with a beard and an ID on me that read "Poncho Villezque." However, their drug had not taken its full effect and I somehow, somewhere deep inside the lapses of my mind's internal natural circuitry, KNEW I was not named Poncho.
So began my adventure to reclaim my throne as Fred Rogers, a.k.a. Mr. Rogers, which I will detail extensively in my journals in the coming months.
Thanks for reading, bitches!
Love,
- The Big Daddy (Fred Rogers)
