I think by now you should know who I am but I have an ego problem so I am going to introduce myself at any chance I get. For the few of you out there who doesn’t know who I am, My name is Stick Figure (I saw this sexy little MILF in the produce isle. When I give her my 9 inches that woman is going to scream for a mile. I knew there was something different about her, she had class she was no whore. But unlike the University of Arkansas on Saturday I did score.) Dan. Boredom has set into my life recently. You can only listen to so many of Richard’s boring ass stories before you want to commit Chris Farley. I know why he eats so damn much now. If I lived a life that depressing, I too would drown my sorrows in hot wing sauce and Pepsi. New product idea for all of you. The bib shirt. Market that. All this boredom has caused me to watch more television. My life has become a shell of its former self recently. Damn, those morning sex sessions. It frees me up way too much. I sat down in front of Richard’s TV. Do you honestly think I am going to watch daytime television on my TV? I think not. I don’t want people thinking I have become him. I tuned into one network in particular and I must admit, I was fucking appalled by the hideousness that I had to sit through. I felt like it was time for me to make a call to arms and write a very stern letter.
Dear TLC (The Learning Channel not the band from the 90s.),
I, like many other Americans are very avid TV watchers. I flip the channels looking to find something to watch, other people do it so they can find a hot chick to rub one out too. If you are Richard, he is looking for that P90x guy. I couldn’t find my damn remote control one day. This had to be the absolute worst day of my life. I was stuck on your network for over 6 hours. I completely understand now why people take their own lives. Let us start off with 19 Kids and Counting. I don’t know if that is the number anymore or not. I lost track after 8. Giving birth to that many kids only says one thing to me, I bet that woman’s vagina is about as useful as trying to stick the square block in the hole for a triangle. If that guy actually can feel anything, a round of beers on me. Why do you need that many kids? I can think of a couple of options. Starting your own professional sports team. 3 away, and they have an entire starting football team. The other option, Welfare. Look, with that many kids a job like working a factory isn’t going to help at all. Yes, having that many kids will make you look like you struck the welfare’s version of Powerball, but it is not practical. Can we please get a calf roper to tie her tubes. That is all. The next show I had to endure was Toddlers and Tiaras. I want you think about this. I want you all of you to think about this. Here is a show, where crazy ass parents dress their children up like the drag queens of the future. This is porn for pedophiles. Something tells me the demographic for that show has pencil mustaches. That show is just borderline creepy. Finally, the last show I sat through, has one of those little pageant girls in it. Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. I figured something out when watching this, Yogi didn’t get to eat what was in the picnic baskets, the mother on the show did. I think the first thing that went through my mind is that someone actually had sex with that thing. The Second thing I thought about is who that bitch looks like. After many minutes of racking my brain to figure it out. It hit me like a Mike Tyson Punch or standing in this woman’s way if someone hollered Half off Sale at Wal Mart. Remember the Brain supervillain from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. She looks like the armor he used to protect himself. Here is a side by side comparison.
We have a Match. Here is what you need to do TLC. Just show dead air. No one will know the damn difference anyway and we can save some of our brain cells.
Figure It Out