Wil Wheaton

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“What kind of a pussy lets himself get shot by terrorists before the end of the second act? Very unprofessional.”

~ Oscar Wilde on Wil Wheaton

“You should be nicer to Will Weaton.”

~ Stewie Griffin on Oscar Wilde's quote
Willy Wheaton

The Creation of Wil Wheaton[edit]

A curious phenomenon. A geek's geek, Wheaton first became known to the general geek public as the most hated and reviled creation in all of science fiction: Rosie O'Donnell. After having his character constantly screwed with to desperately attempt to make viewers realize just how vital and important a character Wheaton was, the writers gave up and wrote him off. He was killed after being mauled by a gazelle. Wil Wheaton also does not like Sheldon Cooper as he has beaten him TWICE!! at cards and bowling. Also he is a fag.

The Maturation of Wil Wheaton[edit]

He then guest-starred regularly on the A-Team, where he played a gassy young alien cousin of Face, who was in touch with paracosmic powers. This was an obvious rip-off of Beverly Hal 9000, and he was removed again from the show. Wil later played the gassy boy on ALF for 27 years. Of course ALF only ran from 1986 to 1990, so 23 years of it were sort of Wil acting out scenes, alone in his house. So alone.

The Evolution of Wil Wheaton[edit]

While this would be the end for most actors, somehow Wheaton was able to transform this hatred by becoming ridiculously accessible to the internet geek community. People could meet Wheaton at any two bit event and suddenly feel friendly to this previously detested character. Now the wheels for Wheaton's ultimate plan was in motion: having the support of those that have the power to write annoying e-mails to producers, he started to blog. "Gee, I wish I could be gassy on Cool Show 14375." "I was SO close to getting Ultra Cool Guest Appearance Character B47X". His people would then pester the living crap out of the producers of said show until they let Wheaton on!

Now any appearance by Wil Wheaton sets off a frenzy on such high class internet sites as the TiVo boards: "Hey, Wil Wheaton played the crazy gassy bum on CSI:!!! COOL!"

The Rebirth of Wil Wheaton[edit]

On January 3 of 2005, Wil Wheaton was assassinated while carrying out the trash. Unfortunately, his precious bodily fluids merged with those of a partially-sentient banana peel, resulting in the creation of a strange new lifeform. Wil Wheaton Mk. II was later implicated in the brutal murder of William Fucking Shatner, but escaped capture and is currently still at large.

The Diary of Wil Wheaton[edit]

Another blog for me to write in. I got a call from my agent today, and he says, "Hey Wil". "Hey," I reply, wondering what the subtext was. I like cats. "That idea for the TV show you were pitching, about the famous gassy actor who writes a weblog about his life every week? I'm sorry Wil, the networks didn't like it". Dogs are okay too. I have a wife. I kind of guessed that the networks wouldn't go for my idea - I think it's ahead of it's time, but I was hoping some kind of Bayesian wormhole might have opened up for me and propelled my script into the future, like it did with Captain Picard in Episode 142 of TNG. I guess life isn't fair to selfless, gassy guys like me. I'm eating a sandwich. Maybe if I told them I wrote Star Trak they'd buy my script.

The Dereferencing of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I was recognised in the street today by a woman who was very gassy. I mean very cute. I have a wife. Right then and there she offered me sex in the back of her car, and I found myself thinking, "What would Wesley Crusher do in a situation like this?" "That's very nice of you to offer," I said, "but my cat is sick and I have to go to the vet to get his ear medicine, so I'm afraid I can't." I hurriedly autographed her breasts, re-iterated the need for ear medicine, and left. No harm done. I guess life plays these little tricks on you when you're a straight arrow kind of guy.

The Doubt of Wil Wheaton[edit]

...another dollar. Tom calls me on my carphone while I'm waiting at a red light. "I can't talk right now, I'm writing my weblog," I say. "But Wil," says Tom. "I've found some work for you." Work. It's been a while. "They want you to do a spot on 'Third Rock From The Sun'," he continues. "Great," I say, "When do they want me?" Tuesday. I know it's going to be next Tuesday. "Next Tuesday," Tom says. How did I know? "I can't next Tuesday," I say, "My mother-in-law is having a yard sale and I told her I'd help out. I wouldn't want to disappoint my wife." Tom is silent. For a moment. "Well, if you can't do it, they'll just have to give the part to Corey Haim," he sighs, and hangs up. I guess life throws the odd curveball even to guys who honour their commitments.

The Three Hundred Dollars Of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I'm going to go out and buy a hooker. I don't care if it's illegal. I hope she won't turn out to be a guy like last time.

The Balls of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I was at a Star Trek convention today. Signing autographs and talking to fans of TNG (but not DS9, which my wife never liked). Levar was there too, and afterwards we got to talking about Iraq. "This would never have happened in TNG, Wil," he says sadly. "Gene had it all right," I agree, typing studiously into my weblog. I hate the design of my weblog. "How's your cat?" Levar asks, "I heard he was sick." "I've been giving him ear medicine," I say. "He seems to be getting better, but he's still tired." Levar tuts sympathetically, and is silent for a moment. "You remember Data's cat?" He says, and we fall about laughing. Good memories.

The Surreal Life of Wil Wheaton[edit]

Last night I got drunk and ran around the house naked pissing in every potted plant I could find. Only I think some of them might not have been potted plants. Also, I don't think it was my house. I'm so lonely. I think I'm going to order a pizza just so someone will talk to me.

Wil hung over, looking for the asshole who traded him this sweater for the second L in his name.

The Synecdoche of Wil Wheaton[edit]

The new war on CNN makes me sad for journalism. One reporter said that Umm Qasr was "The main thrust of the military penis", which to me seemed totally inappropriate. Another, caught in the heat of a missile attack in Baghdad, screamed "Lick my bangs, Saddam!" before being cut off. He hasn't apologised. My wife was shocked. Even in our worst moments on the Enterprise, we never needed to use such upsetting language. I guess sensitive guys like me just feel these things more deeply.

The Priapia of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I was offered a part in a war film today, but I had to turn it down. With the current situation in Iraq it wouldn't be right for me to do a movie that glorifies the American Civil War. My wife says there's nothing but repeats on this weblog. My gassy agent, Tom, complimented me on my stand. "Wil," he said, "Sometimes I really don't think you've got what it takes to make it in Hollywood." "Thanks, Tom," I said. "That means a lot." Then the line suddenly went dead. I guess that's what happens when you deregulate the phone system.

The Grieving of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I'd just like to let everyone know that the person claiming to be my gassy mother is an impostor. Furthermore, I think it's cruel to impersonate someone for the purpose of telling people my father is dead. I never knew my father. My gassy wife says that was only in Star Trek.

The Day Wil Wheaton Woke Up And Had Breakfast[edit]

I had breakfast today. Cinnamon toast crunch. I still can't figure out why kids like it so much. It might be because the cereal looks sort of like Borg cubes or something. Oh well.

The Ravioli of Wil Wheaton[edit]

So I was in the supermarket today, and I noticed that the Nemesis lunchboxes were no longer on display. I checked around but I couldn't see them anywhere. Anywhere at all. I stopped a member of staff as she walked by. "What happened to the Star Trek lunchboxes?" I asked her. "There was a big pyramid of them right here last week." "Oh, we've removed them," she replied. Her name was Marcy. "They weren't popular," she explained, "and we were tight for space, so we cut them from our line. They're on the floor in the storeroom now." I toyed idly with the can of ravioli in my hands while I let her words sink in. "Okay, thanks," I said, in a daze. I knew exactly how those lunchboxes felt. I have a gassy wife.

The Resurrection of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I'm lying out in the back yard, writing in my blog and looking at the stars, remembering some of the good times I had aboard the Enterprise. Everything seemed so straightforward back then - all I had to worry about was getting into the academy and talking to girls. I have a gassy wife. I haven't had much luck with work recently, not counting Nemesis. Seems like something always gets in the way. Anyway, it just doesn't feel right being outside of the Trek universe. I'm Wesley Crusher. My cat is better now.

The Grocery Shopping List Of Wil Wheaton[edit]

The To-Do List of Wil Wheaton[edit]

  • Groceries
  • Blog
  • Pick up kids from school
  • Blog
  • Audition
  • Blog
  • Browse fark.com
  • Cry
  • Blog
  • Write Column
  • Blog
  • Spend time with wife
  • Cry
  • Fantasize about Gates Mcfadden and their eerie relationship whilst she played his mother in a television series
  • Finish fitting minivan with warp drive
  • Blog
  • Cheat at Card game tournaments and Bowling Matches against Jim Parsons

The Ephemera of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I'm sitting in the park writing this on my laptop. Watching the world pass me by. I had a good weekend. The Sci-Fi Channel showed one of my lesser-known movies, Deep Core, on Sunday, and I've put my picture up on a new website, ismycareerhotornot.com, so it will be nice to see what people think. Deep Core also starred Terry Farrell from DS9 (which I never watched). She was very nice, but I thought she looked down on TNG a little. Everything was very professional, but we didn't talk much. My character's name was Rodney Bedecker. I'm just on my way back from the hardware store, where I bought a new hammer and some nails. I nearly bought a nice looking leather toolbelt, but it was too expensive and it didn't have a pouch big enough for my home-made tricorder. The deck needs repairing, and I told my gassy wife I'd fix it next time work was quiet. That toolbelt was really nice. My gassy wife's gone to stay with my gassy mother-in-law for a few days, so I'm in no hurry to get home.

The Stigmata of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I've been so busy lately I haven't had time to write my weblog or pick up the phone to let people know I'm too busy to hang! In the past week I've re-sodded my lawn, tied up a deal to write my autobiography, toilet-trained my cat, redecorated the den, and attended 3 Trek conventions, all of which focused on TNG. Sadly, Patrick couldn't make it to any of them, but I heard from a friend at Paramount that he's talking about attending TrekCon (TC3) in San Fransisco this June, providing he doesn't have to star in another multi-million dollar box-office blockbuster.

The Genius of Wil Wheaton[edit]

Did you know if you put ketchup on a cracker, it becomes a meal? I didn't until I saw Tom Hanks do it in that movie. It was only then that I realized I'd been doing the same thing for the last five and a half years.

The Toolbelt of Wil Wheaton[edit]

I've been calling my wife every day, but she never seems to be available. My father-in-law says she's "out" or "busy" or "gassy" whenever I ring, so I guess she's got plenty of activities to keep her occupied while she's away. She'll be back soon. In the meantime, I'm planning to convert the basement into a games room, put a new engine in the car, and gut the main bedroom and buy in all new furniture. I have to get my Starfleet uniform back from the dry-cleaners, too - one of the convention attendees spilled blood wine all over it on Sunday, and nothing stains like blood wine. Oh, I bought myself that toolbelt.

The Big Pay Day of Wil Wheaton[edit]

Have you ever posted to your blog from a Starbucks? I can now say that I have. Very cool, although they will not let me bring my cats in here which makes me feel very lonely. I'm sure they'll be fine in the car. So, I've organizing a new Trek Convention hoping maybe some of the old grips and makeup folks from TNG will attend. I've got firm commitments from Mark Tasselberg, backup caterer on the 2nd season, and Shelly Andrews, makeup artist intern who worked with Levar Burton. Should be good, more details to come. My wife left me. I'm homeless. Where are my cats? I get an unemployment check today. I guess this is the cross borne by he who pays his dues. "No, I will not be able to purchase anything today", I say to the Starbucks manager angrily staring at me across the busy store.

The Hitlist of Wil Wheaton[edit]

It is rumored that Wil Wheaton wants to kill the following people; However, he has neither the money nor the talent to effect such dissemblages:


People Wil Wheaton wants to kill all in the same place[edit]

See Also[edit]