“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Tuesday, September 02, 2003

OK, enough of the fucking ‘reality TV’ horseshit! I’ve been bitching about this ever since ‘Survivor’ let me down worse than a period on prom night. And through all of my bitching nothing has changed, so I’m giving up. I’m givin’ up and I’m starting my own goddamn reality show. It’s called “Who Wants To Suck My Millionaire Dick?” Here’s the premise: we take a bunch of people, all insanely hot women (It’s my fucking show) that tried out for other reality shows and didn’t get in. The top of these being ‘Fear Factor’. Why ‘Fear Factor’? Ever seen me naked? I rest my case.

Anyway, we take these reality TV castoffs and we offer them a spot on a ‘yet to be named’ reality show.

We drop everyone on a desert island, or barring that there’s a romantic spot I’ve picked out along the New River, and we have various naked challenges, all of which are designed to turn me on. (This part should not be difficult.) From these challenges, finalists will be selected, based on breast quality, jiggle factor and ass firmness. And since these ‘reality’ shows revolve more and more around who will eat the most vile thing, each evening will end with the finalists each coming up with the most interesting and/or vile (for them not me) way to please me sexually. The winner needs only perform the act to win her way into the big season-ender-finals in which the winner gets a chance to become my woman. The others will do jumping jacks naked while this is going on. This will not only be good for me, but it will help out the contestant, as things will probably go faster that way. Someone suggested that we have the girls wear masks like in ‘Mr. Personality’ so as to poke fun at another reality show, but we decided that it wasn’t necessary because the girls will be naked and therefore none of the viewers or staff (Undoubtedly all guys and/or lesbians. Solidarity sisters!) will even notice that they even have faces. Painful reality? Well fucking deal with it. It’s the truth. THAT’S goddamn reality…

Did I mention that all the contestants think that I’m a millionaire? That’s kind of important to the show. Yes, the girls all think that I’m worth TEN MILLION DOLLARS, when in reality my bank balance rests at exactly THIRTY-TWO DOLLARS AND TWENTY EIGHT CENTS. This will last for as long as I can fool the winner into believing it, and given that we’re using ‘reality’ show contestants as our pool I should be able to do that till at least the next season of the show.

Any women that would like to be on the show can contact me at my e-mail address located somewhere to the left there. And if you would like to improve your chances by exposing yourself to my nude body and clumsy advances ahead of time, I’ll send you my address and you can compete in the home version!

So for “Who Wants To Suck My Millionaire Dick?” this is Ford W. Maverick signing off, and as always, I’ll see you in hell.

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