PRESS RELEASE.

BARRY MANILOW CONFIRMED LIZARD BEING.

 

Date: February 29, 2055

Funded by the Blair–Farage Foundation for Truth — “Helping You, Helping the Truth.”

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Following an extensive AI data sweep, we have concluded that the entertainer Barry Manilow, age 112, currently performing a holographically enhanced residency at the Tropicana Terra Mars, is not of human origin.

 

Our verified findings indicate that Mr. Manilow is, in fact, a lizard being originating from the Andromeda Constellation.

 

Mr. Manilow assumed human form in 1943, whereupon he embarked on a distinguished entertainment career, weaponizing lush orchestrations, string sections, and piano‑driven power ballads.

 

Evidence provided by the Blair–Farage Foundation reveals that between 1980 and 2012, after gaining access to — and alleged control of — the multi-dimensional transport hub colloquially known as the Bermuda Triangle, Mr. Manilow orchestrated a sophisticated operation trafficking interdimensional asylum seekers, illegal alien immigrants, multiversal gang members, convicted multiverse criminals, and casual dimension‑jobseekers into Earth’s reality.

 

His activities reportedly ceased in 2022, when the Multiverse was purchased, subsequently trademarked, and absorbed into the Marvel/Disney Omnibrand, leading to the privatization of all interdimensional gateways under strict intellectual property law, thereby prohibiting travel between dimensions without first submitting a request to Marvels Commisioning execs.

 

We wish to reassure the public that the International Cosmic Jurisprudence Court (ICJC) has issued a provisional multiverse‑wide warrant for Mr. Manilow’s arrest; however, due to ongoing extradimensional immunity protocols, enforcement may be delayed.

 

D.E.C.E.I.T. remains committed to ensuring that truth — is properly understood, interpreted, and disseminated for the protection of the publicw mind.

Chapter 2 - 75 years earlier.

 

“We’re three minutes out from the centre of the Triangle, Mr. Manilow. Dropping to sea level!” Captain Stig Montana’s voice echoed through the cabin of his private jet, The Lagarto Celestial. The air was thick with Drakkar Noir as Barry Manilow hummed his new lyrics: “Doesn't see my angle…So Bermuda Triangle…”

 

Manilow chuckled and pressed the large red intercom button to an open channel.

“Thank you, Stig. How’s your wife Mandy doin’?”

“She’s doing great, Mr. Manilow… and we took your advice and spent our last dime on Exxon shares.” The intercom crackled. Manilow didn’t answer.

 

In the cabin — or nerve centre, as it was called — Mr. Manilow pirouetted sharply on his replica snakeskin mid-rise Cuban heels, the camp collar of his white silk shirt catching the air. As the cream-and-white Learjet 24 dropped altitude, leveling off at 500 ft, Montana’s voice came again:

“Three minutes out, Mr. Manilow. Opening lower fuselage doors for you.”

 

Mr. Manilow lowered himself into an ornate white leather sequined Jacobsen Egg Chair, spinning to a large futuristic console lined with cassette-player buttons. One oversized red button read ‘Cassandra’. He pressed it, letting out a strange, wet, echoing click-click-click — precise, deliberate, predatory.

 

If one had access to highly restricted CIA files from 1980, they might have read of a secret Russian program attempting to stabilize a single ultra-dense particle by fusing subatomic neutrons with off-world quantum matter, capable of temporarily warping local spacetime to adjacent dimensions — the so-called Cassandra Project. As it turned out, the CIA never found Cassandra in Russia… because they were looking in the wrong place. They should have been looking in Palm Springs.

 

“One minute out, and cruising at 144 knots, Mr. Manilow.”

 

Underneath the Lagarto Celestial, an object emerged, dangling from a thick steel cable — a mega-sized ghetto blaster, glowing faintly.

 

“Mr. Manilow, we’re over the epicentre of the Bermuda Triangle. In 5, 4, 3, 2…”

 

As Captain Montana finished “1,” Manilow smiled and deep in his throat he let out a sharp, staccato clicking noise, as he pressed ‘Play’ on the console.