Where is My Country's Sense of Adventure?
It takes "fun" to spell "fundamental rejection of our own humanity".While my occidental ancestral homeland of Great Britain has a reputation for pomp and circumstance, these United States have a heritage of garish pageantry and showmanship. From the circus ringleaders and puma wrestlers of the 18th and 19th century to the most modern preteen sex object beauty pageant or Bruckheimer explode-a-tron, we are a nation in love with entertainment devoid of substance. Using my Madame Cleo like powers of prescience I can determine that you are reading Something Awful, which is no more meaningful than the worst episode of "World's Scariest Police Chases in 3D". Don't get me wrong, I'm not some intellectual elitist striving for a utopia where we all read Greek Mythology and lounge around in togas discussing Plato and Heidegger. I like to watch "The Dukes of Hazzard" in my underwear and pick crumbs of potato chips off my beer-swollen gut.
The reason for my incoherent rant is that I am extremely disappointed in my nation's most recent show of selective morality; the non-deathmatch fatality performed on the highly non-esteemed Mr. Timothy McVeigh by an injectecutioner. I'm not going to get into a death penalty debate, but if you're going to go ahead and off some mustache-twirling mad bomber, you might as well make it fun for the whole family and apply that patented American media savvy to it. Dress McVeigh in some padded spandex, give him a wrongfully-accused female sidekick and send him out to do battle with a series of "Stalkers" in the hopes of winning clemency and a trip to Maui. Hell, even as late as the first half of the 20th century a public execution was big business in the United States. Hot Dog vendors would come out of the woodwork at the first sign of a lynching.
Continuing with the game show theme envisioned first by literary master Richard Bachman and then fictionally realized in the prophetic film "The Running Man", I suggest we make an execution game show. With retarded shit like "Win Ben Stein's Money", "Wheel of Fortune" and "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" I'm not sure the American game show industry is up to the task. This is precisely why I flew to Japan to work closely with some of the brightest minds in the "horrifying torture game show" business to bring you the concept of "Death Escape Battle Stadium 2000".
Death Escape Battle Stadium 2000
Better get going there, the school girls are catching up.Format: 2 hour live broadcast
Suggested Host: Damon Killian (if not available, Mark Summers of "Double Dare" fame)
Contestants: Any death row inmate with less than a month before their execution date.
Fabulous Prizes: Clemency, a trip to Maui, a Sony DVD player, a $250 dollar gift certificate from Borders.com and a new Ford Focus.
Events: There will be a series of environmental "physical challenges". At any point during these obstacles the competitor may be attacked by one of our DEBS2000 "Hunters". Each challenge will be timed by the "Arbitimer". If the host doesn't like the competitor or ratings slump the timer will be arbitrarily accelerated. When the Arbitimer hits zero, the contestant is informed that he's being dropped into a pit and has to fight for his freedom against robots dressed as Roman soldiers, only there are no robots. And there is no pit. He's just shot in the head with a rifle. Physical challenges include:
Hunters: Six "Hunters" will be released at the start of competition, there goal will be to kill the competitor. The Hunters will be composed of:
- Competitor must climb a 50 meter high sheer obstacle while heavy logs swing back and forth trying to knock them to their doom.
- Competitor must locate key to steel door hidden inside large vat of pudding. During search large numbers of rabid bats will be released into the pudding chamber.
- Competitor must run gauntlet of teenage girls in sailor uniforms who will attempt to tie ribbons in the competitor's hair and then kick them to death.
- Competitor must fist fight a Cheetah.
- Competitor must ascend a series of platforms using ladders while an exceptionally large gorilla hurls barrels down at them. Hammer optional.
- Guy with a jet pack and a flamethrower. He should have a clever nickname like "Mile High Fireball".
- Woman with really large swaying breasts who is expert at jump kicking. It is recommended she fight the competitor in the "Trampoline Zone" and attempt to snap his neck with her thighs.
- Really big black guy who can punch holes in things that normally can't have holes punched in them like brick, iron, and wicker. His nickname should include the word "Black" so that everyone knows he is not a white guy.
- A fat guy who rides a motorcycle or buggy, sings a lot and is covered with blinking Christmas lights. He should also be taking a diuretic and have problems controlling his bladder.
- A guy who looks like Jesus but he hits people in the face with an axe. Call the axe "Axecalibur" and maybe have him wear a suit of armor and a pith helmet.
- The Belly Dancer of Death (or Stripper of Doom). A trained exotic dancer who lulls the competitor into a false sense of security, she pours gasoline down her leg and onto his face in a highly erotic fashion and then lights him on fire.
I am looking forward to seeing the next execution in this extremely entertaining format. After all, what's the point of killing someone if you're not going to even enjoy it?
It's Getting Hot In Here!
Well of course it is, because we've got an all new Fireman Comic heating things to the boiling point! K-Dog has supplied us with another heaping helping of piping hot Fireman goodness, just have a look:
Hows about you, me, and five uncomfortable minutes in my basement apartment next to the dusty Christmas tree that's still up from my last visit with my estranged children.
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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