It's Saturday night. I have nothing to do really. My cyber "friends" are all offline. At least the ones I could talk to. The rest are probably blocked or I just pretend I'm not there. I can't block the latter since they already have my password. Yeah tell me about it. One of the biggest mistakes I've made. It's like giving someone the key to your apartment, and you can't change the locks or else it's bye bye birdie. My offline friends seem boring enough to try and avoid. My girlfriend keeps calling and calling in a fast edit mode production of a horror/romance film to be released in 2006 under the title of "The Passion of the Christ 2: The Crucification of the Boyfriend". I don't feel like exercising. I don't feel like listening to music or watching a new film, and of those I have so many. I don't feel like chatting and I don't feel like eating. Masturbation is an option, but I need something that could last more than just fifteen minutes. Well, I can't think of anything, so I decide to exit my space shit and go check out what's happening in the real world. TV!!

I give life to the televised box set and start clicking the remote control buttons, trying to find something interesting to watch on one of the 500 channels that I've paid a monthly subscription for in order to feel part of civilization as we know it. MTV, Discovery Channel, Cartoon Network, Movie Channel, Paramount, CNN… Remind me again, why do I pay for this shit? Yeah that's right. Civilization and all that! And then it hits my screen… Who wants to be a Millionaire? Well, fuck it, I DO. It's one of those shows where they make people pay a lot of money to make a million phone calls just so the producers can afford choosing the chosen few who get to sit on the throne and have their chance-of-a-life-time at winning the big bux.
Ha ha ha… Natural Selection? Fuck you, Darwin.

That's when I get hit again, but this time right in the middle of my creativity spot that exists and hides inside my brain. That's the only spot I think still operates in there. The remaining brain cells are either damaged or burned out or just tend to sit there trying to help keep my blood flow good and running. Or at least that's what I fool myself to believe.

Alright, this game show's boring. It's more horrible to watch if you get to know the answer to the million dollar question that the guest fails to answer correctly, hence falling back to his $64,000 check. Such a waste of human garbage. That's when you feel like you've been wasting your time sitting there, watching. Lurking? Damn, I must give them a call sometime. Maybe I'll get lucky. That's exactly when it hits me again. 'I'm hit! May Day!!' What the hell is May Day anyway? Why the fuck May? It's June, Doggamit!!

Who the hell watches those kinds of shows anyways? Those shows are visually global-wide internationally-aired proofs of how poor and desperate and shallow we are. Hmm… If that's the case, then I refuse to become the guest. I'm going to start my own game show!! Please feel free to call my 900 number and don't feel bad or down or fucked if we don't call you back or if we ask you to answer what is the green colored animal that goes up the hill four-legged and comes back with three. Or what is the height of the Eiffel tower in light-years. Don't feel bad. You can feel pathetic all you want, but please don't hate us. We're just in it for the money. Your money.

So what is my show going to be about? The eternally unanswered question. If Buddha ever was a game show host, his show would probably be about how many Buddhists can remain celibate if they were drunk and locked inside a strip club for two hours. Alright, I'm high and hit again. My show, starring me of course, could be titled 'Who Killed…?'. The idea of the game would be to have eight contestants and ask them to kill a guy named George, for instance. The first contestant who kills a George gets to win a million dollars. Every week we get to pick a random name. Audience mass murder would be allowed, in case you were wondering. The best part is, if I'm rich and connected to the right people, or if I am a member on the board of directors at Showtime, maybe the show wouldn't get banned or categorized as a snuff show.

Yyyakkkh!! Too much blood. Strike that out.

How about a show where you get to ask the contestants to fuck as many women in the audience in less than ten minutes? That would be a show, hah? Hmm… but then families wouldn't allow their kids to watch that, resulting in less airplay, hence less commercials every five minutes. What if we get to air commercials in the middle that are customized for the needs of our ever horny viewers? Naah… If I was horny, I wouldn't have any commercial preferences. Just write me the world naked on sceen and I'm sold!!

Damn it!! Forget I ever said that.

YEAH… there's an idea. A show where you get to ask the contestants to each perform open heart surgery to the game host, take an instant picture of his heart and place it back in carefully. Of course, you win if the game host stays alive after that… and we'll allow excessive use of drugs in order to ease the pain of death. Obviously, that show WON'T be starring me.

Oh don't give me that look. Yes, I know. It won't work. We'll probably get applications, a zillion of them, but not from people who want to be one of the contestants. The only people who would apply for a game like that would be applying in to play the game host… with all applications signed 'Recovering Drug Addict – I so wanna die'.

Here's another idea. It's kind of gross though. Poke out your eyes, both of them, and win a brand new 2006 pair of Ray Bans. Hmm… or maybe a show where each contestant gets to guess the weight of some random person, by only looking at his left ear lobe. I'm pushing it, ain’t I?

Smoke as many cigarettes as you can in less than 30 minutes and win a brand new, 100% silver, beautiful casket. Surgeon General's note at the bottom of the casket is optional. Call now and win a free lifetime membership to the 'Marlboro Club for Very, Very Sick Men'.

Judge me all you want, I'd watch that!!

Give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a dying chicken. And in order to spice things up a little. THE CHICKEN IS AVIAN FLU INFECTED. Nothing can beat that, huh?

I'll return to the basics and settle for the simplest. "Call now and win something!!"

If ten idiots called per month, I'd be fucking rich.

Too bad I'm not a game show host.

You want me to leave now, don't you? Alright… that's enough. I'm turning off my magic box and I'm going to bed. I've had enough dreams and fantasies for one night and I need some reality check. Sleep tends to do that sometimes.

Before I go let me ask you this…

Can you say 'Shit Ho, Hit Show' fifty times in less than ten minutes… without pausing for breath?

Yeah… you're going to try doing it now aren’t you?

So 'Who Wants To Be Fucked With' now huh?

Posted by Яαgιи Яαvєи on Saturday, June 03, 2006 at 6/03/2006 10:56:00 PM | Permalink