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The Spiritual Revelations of Space Ghost

by Deuce of Clubs

(First published in Planet Magazine, 18jul1995)


Deuce of Clubs: It's been rumored that your talk show is scripted—say it ain't so, Space Ghost!

Space Ghost: Let me put an end to this right now. My show is not...just a second...(sound of ruffling papers)...scripted. OK, it is. But only the parts where I have to walk around. I'm not good at extemporaneous walking. Hey, I just said "aneous!"

Do you get a lot of fan mail?

Define "lot."

You know, do you get more than the average person?

Yes. But you know, I'm really thrilled to be in Planet Magazine! We have a connection, you and I. You write and work for the Planet. And I live on a planet, the Ghost Planet. Isn't that cute? I get mail from teens, postal workers, lion tamers, postal workers, engineers, marketing executives...postal workers.

Where do you get your pajamas? They look comfortable.

Oh, my! These aren't pajamas, citizen. I am wearing a tailor-made superhero suit from Barney's of Ghost Planet. I sleep in the buff! Although I sometimes use the cape for a blankie.

Whatever happened to that monkey-thing you used to hang out with?

Blip. You didn't see Outbreak?

What about those two kids—still hang with them?

Jan and Jace are deeply involved in Scientology. They're good kids. They're clean kids. They're good clean kids!

Would "people skills" count as a superpower?

Only if you are, say, a cartoon superhero. And you host a late-night talk show. So, I guess your answer is no.

Was there ever a Mrs. Ghost?

Charlene. Charlene Ghost, the apple of my eye. Could I sing you a song? I wrote it last night. I was sitting at the campfire. With Moltar, naturally. And it came to me on the solar wind. [Long pause.] Maybe this isn't the time for it, but I love my mother very much.

Where exactly is the Ghost Planet, anyway?

OK, write this down. Go to Dwarf Nebula. Hang a right. You'll see an all-night laundromat and a black hole. Take the hole. And hang on for dear life.

Have you patched things up with Alice Cooper?

Look, I didn't know Alice Cooper was a man. I was out-of-pocket during the whole glitter rock thing—my show was canned, Grant Tinker wouldn't return my calls. Plus, it's Moltar's job to screen the guests. He just looked up on the docket—this was the night of our big Tribute to the Women of the Entertainment Industry—and saw Alice's name. Boom. There he is. I felt like Bob Saget. Anyway, things are peachy now. I let him borrow some eye-liner that Dian Parkinson left over.

What's behind the mask?

Obviously, Jim Carey is one of your planet's most gifted performers. Coupled with New Line's cohesive marketing strategy—

No, Space Ghost. Your mask—the black hood and cape ensemble.

Oh. A head full of dreams and an odd, slightly metallic taste in my mouth.

© Deuce of Clubs

Wagner on Space Ghost

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