11 July 2005

Every Drop Counts


Right. I was thinking. You know what would be cool? A show like the Iron Chef only the two compete over who creates the last meal for a convict. Then dude eats it and we get to watch him die. But rest assured he died with his hunger satiated, which is more than most can say when they die.
It would also be really cool if the convict weren't privy to the ingredients used in the food. This would facilitate me telling the chefs to cook with dog shit and other forms of feces. That way if criminal guy picks a plate full of dog shit, it's a double whammy. Because he is going to die and he just ate shit.
It would also be HUGE props for the chef. Because he made shit taste good.
Damn I'd watch the hell out of that show.
I think a good way to get this show on the air would be to have sponsors pay for advertising. As opposed to how other shows get on the air. But I think our main sponsor ought to be this candy bar I've been thinking of inventing. It's kind of like a payday, only with a lot more nuts. I am talking a really offensive amount of nuts. The nuts will be held together by custard or something white. Maybe doughnut glaze. Anyway, the candy bar will be called Nuts in Your Mouth. AWESOME. The commercial will be comprised of three big assed fat black women singing, "Nuts in Your Mouth...BIAAAATCCCCHHHHHH."
This way not only do I get paid for other sponsors, but my advertising sells my candy bar and I make more money than Jay-Z.
It's fool proof I tell you. Fool proof.
To recap, 1st I make the candy bar, 2nd I get my show on the air and 3rd I bone Diane Kruger, Claire Danes, Kate Beckinsale, Brittany Daniel, Elviria, Alyssa Milano and Lanny Barby simultaneously because I have so much money they are blinded to my apparent bad looks.
Speaking of bad looks. I am at the mall the other day. Fine it wasn't a mall, it was clothing and sale, but I was there. I am looking for this patch for my Dress Blues and this little kid, he must have been about five years old, keeps staring at me. I look down and smile and this little bastard says, "Green eyed devil." What the bloodclot is that? His mother just looks at me as if to say, "Yeah. You heard him." Sheesh.