Michael Savage’s Celebrity Trial
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My penis clocks in at about one inch, erect.
In most towns that’s not a problem, but it’s not something an aspiring actor in Hollywood wants to advertise. So when I visited Charlie’s Angels gentleman’s club last year, I wore a leather mask.
“Michael. Michael Savage,” said Sapphire, my escort as soon as I pulled down my dockers. “I thought you would never return.”
The nerves slowed my member down. Sapphire didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s just like old times, Michael,” she said.
Although I had never so much as popped into Charlie’s Angels before, everyone knew my penis. Everyone who passed by Sapphire’s room waved at him and called out, “Michael Savage! Good to see you.”
I realized that my penis enjoyed the kind of fame that had eluded the rest of me. Where once I had hidden him from view, I began to produce Michael in public. People always greeted him with glee. Soon he had landed a bit part in a popular genital puppet show and had several big names developing film projects for him.
I felt somewhat jealous of my own appendage as I waited in line to get my penis an Equity card. A man in a turtleneck sweater with a pair of shades holding his hair on tried to skip me in line.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I believe my penis is next.” “I’m Michael Savage,” he said savagely. “You can’t use my name like that!”
He pointed to the nametag I had attached to my crotch for networking purposes.
“You’ve been trading on my name,” he said. “And I’m going to sue you.” “Mr. Savage, you did not invent that name,” I said. “Or are you going to sue Fred Savage too?” “Fred Savage is an actor, not a runty dick,” Savage said. “Quite,” my penis said.
Savage beckoned his lawyer. According to his card, the guy was an equity member and the legal mind behind the Judge Judy show. The lawyer promptly served papers to my unfortunate penis.
My penis was all over Court TV for weeks before the trial began. On the day of his appearance in Hollywood, hours before the trial, a team of make-up people pulled my Michael off into a dressing room.
“We want him to look A-list,” said the buxom reality documentary director who was handling Michael at the time.
The cameras and the prosecution in Savage vs. Savage was ruthless. My penis endured almost four hours on the stand.
When she finally delivered the verdict, Judge Judy’s voice sounded like that of an actress on television camera for the first time.
“You have spread your filth and repulsive smallness across this nation in someone else’s name for far too long,” she said. “Now cut the Paul Revere shit Mr. Savage. And leave this man and his little dick alone.”
For more Savage fun, see Mr. Neal Pollack
Rob Curran takes full responsibility if we are sued by Mr. Savage