A Thousand Pardons My Faithful Followers,
It has been far too long since I have lavished you with my literary loquaciousness. I have allowed myself to be distracted by mere mortal meddlings and in doing so have been derelict in my duty to educate you aspiring elitists.
As I previously promised, I will be critically evaluating the current crop of corrosive programming on public television. To begin this series, I will start with a program that has thankful just ended its scourge of the social soul; The Bachelor
What person with any amount of cerebral cells would come up with a show whose entire purpose is to make a mockery of courting and romancing women? Yes, I will admit, that it is quite pleasing to the optical organs to view these fine female figures as they flounce about in prime geographic locations. Unfortunately their combined IQ is less than the current approval rating of President Obama’s healthcare plan.
If one actually is able to focus on the conversational encounters that occur on the show, then they are truly a master over their gag reflex. I have witnessed higher intellectual banter occur between a gnat and a pile of fecal matter than these ladies and the dimwitted doofus chosen to be the gem of the group.
Perhaps a better title for the show would be “The Wealthy Windbag and his Pack of Imbecile Imposters.” None of the females on this demonstrate any honor, honesty, or high classiness to be chosen as a worthy life partner. For that matter, the pitiful excuse for a male that is chosen to be the apple of their eye would better be suited for removing the rind on Rocky Mountain Oysters than wooing the women.
In closing, I hope you all have not been subjected to the deepest form of torture by viewing this voracious visual vat of vile public programming. If this has been thrust upon you by someone you consider a friend or foe, I would strongly suggest you introduce them to a classic Higgins tactic; have them pull their bottom lip over their head and swallow deeply.
“Don't cry at the beginning of the date. Cry at the end of the date like I do.” Bonnie Hunt aka Laurel Boyd; Jerry Maguire 1996
If you date cries during your date, put her in a taxi, send her home, and make her pay the tab. A real Higgins woman wouldn't cry. E.R. Higgins 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
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