You may recall a ways back I began the deathwatch on Tammy Faye, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer and had stopped taking treatments. I am a man who will admit when he is wrong, and whether or not she saw it, I incorrectly surmised she wouldn't make it to the release of the 3rd Pirates flick.
So imagine my surprise (none) that media leech Larry King has her on tonight's show. She looks horrible, as one would expect from battling cancer and dropping to 65 lbs -- and why I only use a small picture. It's legitimately frightening.
I'm sure she'll relay a message of calm acceptance doused in Jesus, but other than to scare small children and make everybody feel bad, why air this? It is not uplifting or empowering or necessary. King is a vampire, and those who tune in are no better, taking what little is left of her life to feed off. Tammy Faye, still the narcissist, gets one more ego trip down television lane.
I suggest a new show called Terminal Death, where every week people in the final stages of diseases get interviewed about what it is like for them to know they are about to die. Afterwards, there will be a one hour call-in segment where viewers can call in and share how fucking depressing it was to watch and then relay a tale of their own to up the misery quotient. It will be the next big thing in entertainment-less entertainment, bigger than the torture porn of the Saw and Hostel movies. And anti-depressant sales will go through the roof.
The "Bad Times" block of programming will continue with another of my new shows, Clubbing Baby Animals. You goddamn masochists.
So imagine my surprise (none) that media leech Larry King has her on tonight's show. She looks horrible, as one would expect from battling cancer and dropping to 65 lbs -- and why I only use a small picture. It's legitimately frightening.I'm sure she'll relay a message of calm acceptance doused in Jesus, but other than to scare small children and make everybody feel bad, why air this? It is not uplifting or empowering or necessary. King is a vampire, and those who tune in are no better, taking what little is left of her life to feed off. Tammy Faye, still the narcissist, gets one more ego trip down television lane.
I suggest a new show called Terminal Death, where every week people in the final stages of diseases get interviewed about what it is like for them to know they are about to die. Afterwards, there will be a one hour call-in segment where viewers can call in and share how fucking depressing it was to watch and then relay a tale of their own to up the misery quotient. It will be the next big thing in entertainment-less entertainment, bigger than the torture porn of the Saw and Hostel movies. And anti-depressant sales will go through the roof.
The "Bad Times" block of programming will continue with another of my new shows, Clubbing Baby Animals. You goddamn masochists.
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