Yay! TV!

So I’m up late, drinking my sorrows away, when I come across the greatest show ever produced in the history of television.

A bright light shone upon my screen from heaven above as if God himself opened his hand to endowed me with a magnificent gift. Angels played their horns. Cherubs threw rose petals. A choir sung an adagio so sweet that flowers bloomed. My eyes rippled with joyous tears when I was presented with a television show almost indescribable to any mortal being. Breakup

The church… “Cheaters.” unicorn galloping instant gratification

It’s pope… Mr. Joey Greco. Bloodthirsty

I know, I know. You‘re all saying, “But Charlie, why are you lowering your television viewing experience by watching this trash?”

That’s when I put down my bottle of malt liquor, hang a cigarette between my lips, carefully place a white velvet glove on my hand and slap you across the face.

Here’s the deal you gaggle of dried turds. When I’m depressed about things, especially “love,” I turn into a real bastard. I like… nay, I love seeing other people miserable. If I can’t hold hands on the beach at sunset, then I want to nuke that beach. If I can’t pick flowers in a sunny, green field with “Juliet,” then I say damn the fuzzy little bunnies and napalm the whole fuckin’ place.

I tried changing my ways through a series of Clockwork Orange-type psychological manipulation but nothing seems worked.

This is where “Cheaters” comes in. Some fuck-ass stumbles into the studio doubtful that the significant other’s “late nights” with the friends and overnight business trips could be (shocker) nothing but lies.

That’s when Mr. Greco swoops in with his team of blood thirsty, take-no-prisoner velociraptors that some may call an investigation team. They shoot video of every dirty encounter, record audio of every lie.

You cannot hide your cheating ways from “Joey’s lil’ bastards!”

Now comes the reveal. I know it’s sick, but watching the poor bastard gaze, slack jawed, at a video of their beau having dirty, raunchy sex with another is the icing on the cake. If you pay close, careful attention to their face, you can actually see where their soul is shattered! It’s a .5 second instant in time where one can observe a total stranger’s life get vaporized into nothing.

Then there’s the confrontation where, you guessed it, the faithful confronts the two-timer. This is just a bunch of yelling and fighting. It’s nothing you can’t see on your average Saturday night in the parking lot at Jumbo’s Clown Room, but who wants to waste their time driving to some dive bar just to watch two fat couples fight.



So vaya con dios, Joey Greco! Vaya con dios !