Next Up in His Long and Storied Career, Tom Hanks Will Play Your Dad

 

Deadline Hollywood 

Exclusive: Fresh off his triumphal return as the voice of Woody, Disney/Pixar’s venerable franchise pull-string cowboy toy in what is either Toy Story 27 or whatever number they’re up to now, Tom Hanks has signed on for yet another major starring role in his long and storied career.

Production is slated to start in the fall for the yet untitled Stephen Soderbergh -directed vehicle starring the multiple Oscar and Emmy winner in the role of your Dad.

“Tom’s vast experience renders him pitch perfect for playing your Dad,” beamed Director Soderbergh.

“When you are struggling with U.S. Geography in the Ninth Grade Tom as your Dad will sit you down and map out a strategy with the words Houston, We Have a Problem Here.

Tom will also teach you basic survival skills such as making fire and bonding with a volley ball.”

“I have played virtually every other role imaginable from Kip in Bosom Buddies to Mr. Rogers,” said Hanks, but this one critical role has always eluded me.”

“And the warm-hearted scene where I explain to you that Life is, in fact, Like a Box of‘Chocolates - that’s pure movie magic.”

Shawn Levy, the film’s producer, added “We simply couldn’t imagine anyone else in this role - Tom’s talent is Big! We’re betting when Tom Hanks as your Dad hits the screens in mid 2027, audiences will leave the theater crowing You’ve got a friend in me and We know what love is!”

And soon to be announced, but you heard it here first, the role of your Mom will be played by … Your Mom.

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Perry’s Backasswards Rooms

 

My version is much scarier. You'll see.

I was in the basement of my house in Havertown, PA, where I keep my beer, when I saw a strange light beckoning me to walk straight into a wall.

As I stepped forward, the wall dissolved, and I fell into a vast open space I had never seen before.

“Hell, if I’d known about this years ago,” I thought, “I could have put in a sauna or maybe even an indoor lap pool. But I’ve got to keep knowledge of all this extra square footage away from the township or my real estate taxes will go sky high.”

Yep — I had stumbled into an alternate dimension:

Perry’s Backasswards Rooms.

I walked past huge piles of broken desks and chairs and heard voices murmuring in a variety of languages.

“Gee, the UN General Assembly must have had a helluva party here last night,” I thought, “but somebody ought to clean this all up.”

I moved down the hallway, opened the first door, and was immediately swallowed by a sea of socks.

“Amazing!” I gasped. “So this is where they all go.”

A screaming woman with a distorted face chased me out of the room and deeper into the labyrinth.

“Hey, lady — you had a bad reaction to Botox. It’ll pass!” I shouted.

As I wandered through the maze-like rooms, I encountered even stranger things.

Down another hallway, I ran smack into the famous Lost Colony of Roanoke, missing since 1590, where Virginia Dare — the first British child born in America — had lived.

I asked why the word “Croatoan” was carved into a nearby tree before the colony vanished.

“Because we wouldn’t have had nearly the same cachet in history had we carved ‘Havertown’ into the tree, dumbass!” Virginia Dare told me.

At this point I was hungry, and fortunately I found a snack bar.

Unfortunately, it only served white blobs of substance pulled from the stomach of a comatose zombie-like creature with three eyes and a thoroughly contorted face sitting at a table.

And it was take-out only, so I kept moving.

A huge wooden pirate suddenly charged at me and tried to eat me and I sprinted down another hallway. Where are all the Backasswards termites when you need them?

I ducked into the next room, and there came the greatest shock of all. It was clear to me now that I was in the place where all lost things eventually wind up.

Those googly eyes. That red-and-white striped shirt. The perennially dopey look on his face.

“OMG,” I stammered. “You’re Waldo — of Where’s Waldo? fame!”

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “This is where I come to rest between gigs, but now that you’ve found me, my career is ruined.”

I told Waldo I could keep my mouth shut about his whereabouts, and he thanked me.

“That is, Waldo — as long as your money’s green and the price is right.”

And so an unexpected source of extra income has emerged from the bizarre and mysterious space I now know as Perry’s Backasswards Rooms.

And if I can just find a contractor somewhere down here, maybe I can finally put that sauna and pool in too.

 I promised him a cameo in my version if he promised not to eat anyone.

Playing "Pretend to the Person I Pocket Dialed That I Actually Meant to Call Them"

  

I’m amazed at the games people play on their phones like Minecraft & Candy Crush and the various and sundry casino gambling games. 

I play none of these. 

The only game I play is "Pretend to the Person I Pocket Dialed That I Actually Meant to Call Them."

 

Just last week I heard a voice.

 

“Perry… Perry …” it said

 

I said “who’s talking?”

 

The voice said “this is Denis. I  think you pocket dialed me.”

 

I said “Oh no, Denis, I meant to call you!” 

 

Those words are reflexive.  They spew from my mouth like lava from an active volcano.

 

“So, Denis, umm, how’s ….”

 

Think, man, think! What’s his wife’s name.  Think! Think!

 

“How’s Nancy?”

 

“Oh gee, I’m sorry.  How long ago? Oh, that long. My condolences.”

 

Now what? I already sound like an idiot.

 

“Still in the insurance business?”

 

“Bankruptcy,  eh? You working? No. Looking? That long? Oh, gee!”

 

Say something else, Perry. Anything!

 

“How’s your brother-in-law who worked for  you, I forget  his name …. oh, gee, I’m sorry.  How long ago?”

 

The next words spewed from my mouth like lava from an active volcano.

 

“So, Denis, wanna do lunch?” 

 

I have had any number of boring pointless lunches with any number of people I hated the thought of having lunch with just to save the blatant admission of an ignominious pocket dial.

 

Why does this keep happening?

 

I have all my phone numbers on speed dial because I can’t remember numbers. I’m so bad at getting and processing phone numbers that I have dialed the generalissimos of small Latin American countries when I meant to call the plumber.

 

One of them even showed up more reliably than the plumber.

 

And with all my numbers front and center on my phone it’s easy to bump the phone and set in play the Kabuki theater you have just witnessed.

 

There seemed to be  only one answer: remove everyone from speed dial  and let Siri make all my phone calls. And so, just yesterday …

 

“Hey, Siri, call Ellen Cohen.” 

“Calling Alan Coburn.” 

“No, no, no, Siri, not Alan Coburn!   Ellen Cohen! Ellen Cohen!” 

“Hello, hello, who is this?”

“Oh, Alan,  umm … this is Perry … I - I didn’t mean to call you, but this isn’t a pocket dial!” 

“No?” 

“This is a Siri Dial.” 

“A Siri dial?” 

“Uh, yeah, a Siri dial.” 

“You mean you’re too lazy to even pocket dial a person?!!” 

“No, well, I thought I could …” 

“This is way worse than a pocket dial, you asshole!” 

The next words spewed from my mouth like lava from an active volcano. 

“So Alan, wanna do lunch?”

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It’s National Nude Day And I Aim To Bare All!

 

Today is a special day!

That is, virtually every day on the calendar is a special day.

Each one celebrates some aspect of our everyday lives, and I’m out to honor as many of them as I can.

· On National Asparagus Day, I ate Asparagus.

· On National Cheese Day, I fairly well induced vomiting, as I famously hate cheese.

· On National Floss Day, I broke tradition and flossed.

And July 14 is National Nude Day, a day that celebrates “the idea that the human body is natural and nothing to be ashamed of.”

And so as morning dawned on July 14, 2025, I pulled off the T-shirt I sleep in, stepped out of my pajama bottoms, and went Full Tilt Boogie in the hall mirror.

Not a pretty sight.

I happen to have a back shaped like the punctuation mark at the end of a properly phrased response to a Jeopardy clue.

It took a bit of a stretch but I convinced myself that what I beheld was nothing to be ashamed of.

There were no special events or parades in Philly and I didn’t want to celebrate all alone so I thought to call my ex-girlfriend Sandra, the one who’s always buying me clothes.

“Perry, just thinking of you. I had some sweaters in hand yesterday at Nordstrom’s that are perfect for you.”

“Sandra this isn’t about clothes. You should know that today, July 14, is a very special day on the calendar.”

“Oh, I know it’s Bastille Day."

“Yes, but it’s also National Nude Day.”

“C’mon! Is that for real?”

“Yeah, it is. Now would you like to come over to my house, take off all your clothes, and cavort on my back lawn with me?"

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!!”

“No, I was just thinking ….”

“This is a shameless ploy to see me naked again, isn’t it?”

“No, no, no! It’s a day for celebrating the idea that the human body is natural and nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Perry, you’re an idiot!!”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”`

“An idiot with a back shaped like the punctuation mark at the end of a properly phrased response to a Jeopardy clue.”

“Yeah, there is that.”

So there I was all alone at 11:47 on the night of July 14, sitting there in my birthday suit and state of mind and watching reruns of Jeopardy.

That Ken Jennings is quite the host.

Now July 14 is fast approaching once more.

Do you - by any chance - feel like helping me celebrate the idea that the human body is natural and nothing to be ashamed of?

Didn’t think so.

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