It's been around. The original Brain keep appearing in cheaper and cheaper productions until, during the filming of Young Frankenstein, it bit Gene Wilder on the hand. There were rumors about drugs, all nighters, the allure of young starlets with a big lobe fetish. The knife fight with Hugh Downs is just a rumor, but the story about the cherry red Corvette, Lassie, a case of Bourdeaux, and the police chase is all too real. As always in stories such as this, the merry-go-round life of parties finally took it's toll, and the Brain was put out on the curb in front of the Universal lot, with bairly enough fluid in the beaker to make it a week.

Those dark days are now a thing of the past. The Brain, after a petition signed by one Mr. Weaver and one Mr. Lucas, leads a comfortable existance in the Old Monster's Home on Hollywood, where it lives off the bountiful residuals from it's career. It now has taken up the art of sculpture, and you can get a brain-shaped clay bowl for $500 a pop.