n the beginning I turned on the television set. And it was good.
And from whence there came a light of some blindness I didnít canned gorilla farts.
I called it a cathode ray emission.
On the first channel there was a dolt, and he was good. The second channel was news and it also shone with a fire that still burns.
Then I said, "Hey Doot, could you turn up the volume the remote doesnít work very well."
And from the speakers came a thundering voice "Make money doing absolutely nothing." And I did.
So that was the second channel.
Then I changed the channel.
"Tired of being tired all the time. Then get fresh breath. I did and now all my friends are trees! The Lyle Alzado signature Turbocharged Meat Grinder!"
Then I switched it to the QVC channel and this guy blessed me and made me want to
buy everything on the screen. And so I did.
The above excerpt from is just one many examples we have found giving the QVC channel a bad name. Frankly we consider this a flagrant and uncouth misrepresentation of the services that we offer. In fact, as standing vice janitor of QVC, I am personally disgusted with the inaccuracy of the whole thing, It stinks.
Why just the other day, my friend Stool bought some disco compact disks from them, three two be exact. We had a thirty day return policy so we recorded them to record and sent them back. Stool certainly took them for a bundle.
Then to top it off, my invisible friend whose name is also Stool ordered $200,0008,000 worth of disco hits and he used my top secret QVC Code Number. I bet you canít guess who had to pay the bill. Thats yours, right truly.
"Yo Holmes, I personally would like to extend to you my deepest apologies for the rubbish that has been written about QVC. Personally I find it absolutely riveting. Smashing. A jolly good show I must say, my good man! Simply smashing."
In fact, 10 out of 5 members of the Tupperwear Tuff Guys in my neighborhood actually prefer to buy their cheap useless junk by telephone. And a large number of the elderly folk would rather punch touchtone numbers than have to deal with those pushy salesmen. Imagine no one pressuring you to buy produce. None of those pesky green grocers in their checkered suit jackets and maroon expando-slacks sayin "So, you going to be taking that lettuce home tonight. You know those tomatoes are the latest rage in Europe Hey buddy, Burt Reynolds ate some radishes once."
"How many salt and pepper shakers could ever be enough. Why Iíve gone through 27 of them and that was just last week."
"Two to three per week and thats bare minimum. Were talkin Scurvyvilleí"
"There are so many salt and pepper shakers to choose from, I just go nuts. There are porcelain strawberries, clay chickens, tin mufflers. Oh, twist my arm to make me buy those cute penguin toothpick dispensers, why they are simply gorgeous."
"2753 and that expires 6/97. Yes I would like one of those plain salt and pepper shakers."
"Iím sorry sir, but there are only three of them left."
"Oh well, better just give me all of them then."
Another untypical scenario where this conversation would be irrelevent: "Yeeeahhh how does the Pronatortm work and is it really connected to the Humeroustm? Oh I see, well then I had better not. You know your frozen wig harness is running. Better catch it HaHaHa."
"My your biceps are green."
"Why thanks, you know, Iíve been lifting toads at the Y."
Unfortunately the sad part of the story is that he never realy gets to flex his muscles in public because suddenly muscles became illegal. And not long after, arms were put under suspicion, soon to be forbidden.
On conclusion I would like to finish with the ending.
There comes a time in ones life where one will be forced to act against one's common senses yet one's gut feeling is telling one something else. Iím saying go for it, take that risk feel the adrenalin, hear it roar. Shut up you Fuck Ass. In my case it was the decision between whether to purchase something that was not sold in stores, and sitting back collecting firelogs. I went with my gut. I said buy and Iím a better person because of it. What is all this crap that I'm writing?