If thoughts of John Wayne, Wayne Gretzky or Wayne, Indiana, get your blood percolating, wouldn’t you be tickled to meet any of them? Of course you would, which is why I went bonkers when an NSA defector leaked the news that the greatest racing champion of all time is now hiding in America.
I shamelessly threw myself at the feet of his promoters by assuring my typical attention to absolute accuracy in this column, and so it is that I’ve once again scooped a story away from Newsmonth magazine. The racers name, in the unlikely event you haven’t already read it on Facebook or ChristianMingles.com, is Moe Mickelvazinacampherphenella, who close friends refer to as simply Mickelvazinacampherphenella.
To watch his mastery behind the wheel on a racetrack is akin to witnessing brilliance, much like one associates the Mona Lisa with Leonardo DiCaprio.
“Mickelvazinacampherphenella took to race cars like a maggot to a carcass,” said fellow driver and admirer Walter Wego. “Even though we’re competitors, at times we work closely together as a team like Sean Penn & Teller.”
The racing virtuoso himself, standing nearby, heard the accolades and to my utter delight came over to shake hands and look me in the eye. “I’ve been reading a lot about your country and I’ve grown a huge fondness for 1950s celebrities like that sexy actress Marilyn Manson and the great Vikings quarterback Fran Dresher,” said Mickelvazinacampherphenella.
Although fresh from battling an addiction to prune juice and fully recovered from a sales pitch by an All State insurance agent, Mickelvazinacampherphenella remains undaunted. The secret to his success? His reply jolted me like the clap of the sound barrier being broken by Chuck Hagel on the Bonneville Salt Flats.
“Concentration,” he exclaimed with flared nares. “Over the years I have developed the unique ability to stay totally focused throughout any mental process or length of conversation, no matter the topic. I block out all extraneous thought and let my mind zoom-in like a torpedo. It was a primitive torpedo, you know, that sank The Monitor during your Civil War. Do you have any good Chinese restaurants nearby?”
Moe Mickelvazinacampherphenella – honest, forthright, one of a kind even when playing a hand of poker. And he’ll be seeking asylum in our country, perhaps giving one and all a chance to buy a signed copy of his new book, “I’d Have To Be A Self-Absorbed Idiot To Write Yet Another Celebrity Compendium of Self-Aggrandizing, Yawn-Inducing Horse Manure – I Hope You Enjoy It.” I bought a copy for myself and donated another to the National Insomniac Association.
Although endless debates may rage as to who’s the greatest golf pro, baseball slugger, football hero or pastry chef, one name stands virtually unchallenged atop the racing world. And so it is that when you next refer to the bookmarkers of history like Wayne Newton (the Father of Calculus) or great wine producers like Galileo, the name Moe Mickelvazinacampherphenella should also roll off your lips like the spittle from a comatose camel.
Come out from hiding, Moe Mickelvazinacampherphenella, because America needs another race car hero like Mario Androgynous.