Carrot Top: Completely Retarded

Its a typical drunken Sunday night in Las Vegas, Nevada.

The Luxor Hotel is alive with activity: Sunday can be that last chance to squeeze another dollar out of a gambling tourist before he makes the trek home, or a chance to really wow an elderly couple lost in the glow of Vegas with dazzling lights and a nice show. In regards to the latter, the hotel has accommodations outfitted with the necessary components needed to put on any type of act or entertainment. Its Atrium Showcase, has seating for four-hundred and fifty people, and has the space for dining and a kitchen staff. On this particular Sunday Night, its act is one which regularly fills the Atrium to capacity, 3 nights a week, with dinner and a show. . .

The shiny silver doors to the Atrium Showcase fling open, the contents of its innards pour out at a rapid rate, all doubling over with laughter, the happy audience of yet another sucessful show. The headliner in question, is none other than Carrot Top, who now stands center stage, basking in his own glory, as twenty dollar bills shower down from the ceiling, bathing him in greeny goodness. . .

But it is then, that Carrot Top wakes up in his bed, disappointed that it is yet still just a dream. . . He stares at the white ceiling of his hotel room, and is reminded of himself - blank, nothing, talentless. He injects some steroids, stares at his shrinking testicles in the mirror, and draws on his eyebrows before heading out to the gym. There he lifts weights, often hoping to get noticed and harassed for a photo, which he would pretend to be annoyed with but would give him the distinct pleasure of showing off his roid bloated bisceps. He can easily lift 400 pounds thanks to the wonder drug, and often does so while staring at himself in the mirror. From there, he's off to any of the dark corners of Vegas, to those run down pockets of human despair and forgotten dreams, to the sort of place where Gary Coleman would fit right in. He does this until he eventually succums to sleep, and dreams the same taunting dream that haunts him in his waking life, that dream to actually be considered funny.

But this is not how it always was, Carrot Top was not always a shell of a human being, headlining for the savage dogs that run Vegas. At one time he was just your typical ginger, as annoying as a tenacious gnat in your ear, and as prone to beatings as a pencil pushing geek in The Great Suck (high school.) Carrot Top was born Scott Thompson, in Cocoa Beach, Florida, to an astronaut and a ripe beet. His father worked for NASA during its more successful years, where he was training astronauts to drive moon landers, along with a few other top secret experiments. One of which happened to involve beets, and after long arduous days in the lab, he managed to breed a ripe organic beet with human sperm, the result of which we all know today as the ridiculous looking prop comic: Carrot Top. From a young age, Carrot Top expressed an interest in comedy, and often claims that his father was the reason for him getting into the business. . . Which may further explain why he is unfunny.

His reign of treachery started in the college scene, which "appreciated his wit and quirkiness." It would be there that he would develop his prop comedy, and use it to much success. No one is quite sure how he managed to become mainstream, he is kind of like that strange case of herpes you wake up to in unknowing terror. He simply showed up one day, and much to everyone's dismay. Regardless, Carrot Top was named "Comedian of the Year" in 1994 (which goes to show you how unfunny 1994 really was), and was also given the seemingly made up award of "Best Male Sit-Down Turn Around Bop Your Head Onto The Ground Comedian." It is there that Carrot Top's career plataued, a dormant period of mediocrity where once again he shuffled back into the shadows and took time away from the spot light. There he remained, for four long years of stale repetitious comedy, and infinite retardation that plagued local clubs and small comedy houses all across the country.

That is until 1998, when Carrot Top unleashed upon the world an idea which he had been molding over in his head. He was back in Hollywood, and this time, with a gem of a script that would change comedy history forever. . .


Chairman of the Board, the tale of a bum surf boarder who befriends a very rich man, the bond of their short friendship being so strong that upon the rich man's deathbed he gives the company to the young bright faced Carrot Top. This in turn angers the man's nephew and rightful heir, causing him to go on a vengeful warpath to get back what he believes to be rightfully his. The movie really just serves as an opportunity for Carrot Top to show off more of his prop jokes, as his character, although a lazy surfer, has a knack for invention. One scene in the movie is intended to showcase his comic prowess, through the characters many inventions, thusly becoming a three minute long comedy bomb that could be easily called the worst scene in all of movie history. Carrot Top, as the new owner of the company, stands in front of a group of aging white men, all in suits, proposing new products for the company, which are all really just more of his idiotic tinker toys set to lame punch-lines.

Aside from offending everyone who watched it, and bastardizing the very idea of "comedy," Chairman of the Board accomplished very little, apart from sullying the career of an already forgotten face: Carrot Top. The movie served only to remind America that its festering case of red-headed herpes was back, this time in feature film. It was like Carrot Top was always there, lying dormant, just waiting for his opportunity to spring up again and give everyone a case of the "aw shits." The movie has been dubbed one of the worst comedies ever, and this still remains to be true today, although Rob Schnider is trying awfully hard to claim the title.

Fortunately for the world, Carrot Top has never been given a starring role again, unless of course you consider his little part in the CALL AT&T campaign. After the movie he once again fell into a dormancy period, during which time Carrot Top started to develop strange fantasies. . . Demented by a crushing blow from Hollywood, Scott Thompson lost touch of himself, started fancying himself as a lady, and took to prancing around his home in women's clothing. With money in the bank, he paid for plastic surgery, drastically changing his face as if to get away from the pain of having to look at himself in the mirror every morning. His friends at the time, if he had any, probably watched in horror, the slow and tragic mutation from his every day nerdy red-head self to the Hulkish steroid freak with drawn on Chola eye brows he became. He developed this look that made him always appear shocked: his eye brows had been pulled back to stretch the face and remove age lines. Other altercations included a nose which now pointed downwards, a shaved jaw-line for a more feminine look, and a tucked in chin. Despite his look, he continued to live out some sort of demented existence appearing on random late night talk shows, or on sitcoms, but only for brief tollerable moments.

Today, somehow, much to my amazement, he sells out the Atrium Showcase at the Luxor Hotel, working three nights headlining, sharing Tuesdays to work with Cryss Angel, in a sort of dual-shit format. What his show precisely entails, I dare not know, nor do I care to think about the infinitely retarded people who actually choose his entertainment in Vegas, out of all the other options available to them there. Carrot Top however brings up the rather difficult process of defining his retardation.

For he certainly suffers from quite a few:
Epic Retardation
Utter Retardation
Infinite Retardation
Hopeless Retardation
Pathetic Retardation
Genetic Retardation
Unimaginative Retardation

This leads me to conclude that there can only be one definition for Carrot Top, he is completely retarded.

complete retardation: Retardation which results from 2 or more retardations. Victims exhibit traits found in other retardations including: epic retardation, infinite retardation, and genetic retardation. Said victims are "completely retarded."

IN SUMMATION:

ROIDS + GINGER = BLANKA from STREET FIGHTER.