God Cancels Several Reality Shows Simultaneously
Several reality shows were cancelled Monday by a conflict that a local pastor has called a "remarkable instance of God's mysterious ways".
The conflict began when Hotty Totty, a local woman in the grip of a relentless suspicion that her husband, known simply as Q, was engaged in extra-marital congress with persons unknown, approached the reality show Cuckolds to root out his affairs for public shame and punishment. Her precise expectations as to what this punishment would entail, beyond national humiliation, were very specific but beyond the budget of Cuckholds to perform, lacking as they were the funds for the medical care needed to keep Q, hardly a specimen of stamina from Hotty Totty's report, able to withstand her punishment in its purest, unrestrained capacity. Hotty Totty agreed to accept a quick and relatively painless castration as payment for the long and tedious hunt that catching Q in his serpentine backsliding would require, not to mention the mental strain of many false starts and dead ends.
Hotty Totty herself was not prepared for the mental agony this hunt brought not only on herself but her audience, which demanded that Q be one deranged bastard indeed to deserve the six-month hunt to catch him, let alone his paramour. Yet caught Q eventually was, and that was when the fun began.
Q, as soon became pleasantly obvious, was engaged in an affair with Mistress C, who was herself cheating on her own husband, who himself had hired a rival reality show, Cuckoldees, to hunt her down with an even more violent and unforgettable recrimination in mind than that which Cuckholds could not afford. When Hotty Totty confronted Mistress C, Cuckoldees were swiftly on the scene, only to just as swiftly recognize the crew of Cuckholds, a sight even more unforgettable than their swiftly forgotten punishment had just-so-recently-been. The complexities of a situation involving the punishment of both the cuckolds and cuckoldees of two inter-related affairs was felt by all and felt to be nigh impossible.
Urban warfare seemed the better option.
The crew of Cuckolds got the upper hand, armed with prearranged castration utensils whereas Cuckoldees, who had counted on holding Mistress C's punishment at a predetermined place they could not get to at the moment, could only fight with the cameras they had brought with them, which again gave the advantage to the Cuckold crew who could thus both castrate and film at the same time. Then a posse of police from the reality show PoPo arrived to shut down the fun. PoPo, however, were not to hold sway very long until Slumdog Troopers, a rival cop show led by ex-action star Flex, cased a ruckus above and beyond what anyone involved would have anticipated, even granted that several members of both PoPo and Slumdog Troopers had ongoing legal battles with Cuckolds and some with Cuckholdees over former episodes with still unresolved punishments that were, with supreme irony, the legal obligation of each opposing police force to prevent. Flex, as fate would have it, recognized Mistress C's backside among the tumult and remarked that he was acquainted with her backside before he impregnated and therefore abandoned her in the course of his career's descent into cop reality shows, which he also remarked bore a comical resemblance to her equally pathetic descent, despite never having been famous, to cheating-based reality shows.
At this point Maury Povich, epistemological provocateur, was on the scene with the sundry results of lie-detector sessions involving not only Flex and Mistress C, but all parties involved in a tangled network of cheating and chasing and punishments and lawsuits of decreasing degrees of comprehensiveness. He had these results organized alphabetically in a scroll that hit the floor with a bang like a firecracker that brought several onlookers to the scene. He then began orating his results over the one remaining megaphone. "Flex. I asked you if you licked ice-cream off of Fiffa's butthole wearing an Easter Bunny suit while you sat on a pink-ruffled toilet filled with Pez and lollipops. You said no. The lie-detector determined THAT WAS A LIE!" And so on.
The conflict reached a bloodthirsty height when the Ancient Aliens crew arrived to double-check the rumors they had heard on the fringe websites known only to them of the fights on-going nature, which caused the Swamp People of New York to arise and try to quench the fight for motives unknown (SPoNY comes on USA, at 9, thus out of the CBS and NBC affiliated Cuckold(ee) rivalry although Ancient Aliens, syndicated beyond recognition in a time zone also known only to them, should rightly have no beef with anyone), which aroused the ire of Ice Road Lot Lizards, who have an inexplicable beef with every show. Pawn Stars, ever eager to maintain their dubious supremacy on the hierarchy, dished out free weapons of antique trustworthiness to those favored to win, before Gene Simmons’s Football team came and gave the fight a Kiss of Death. The results of the fight, still being orated over by Maury, left only guts and goo for American Pickers to salvage.
So that is why TV might suck this weekend.
Several reality shows were cancelled Monday by a conflict that a local pastor has called a "remarkable instance of God's mysterious ways".
The conflict began when Hotty Totty, a local woman in the grip of a relentless suspicion that her husband, known simply as Q, was engaged in extra-marital congress with persons unknown, approached the reality show Cuckolds to root out his affairs for public shame and punishment. Her precise expectations as to what this punishment would entail, beyond national humiliation, were very specific but beyond the budget of Cuckholds to perform, lacking as they were the funds for the medical care needed to keep Q, hardly a specimen of stamina from Hotty Totty's report, able to withstand her punishment in its purest, unrestrained capacity. Hotty Totty agreed to accept a quick and relatively painless castration as payment for the long and tedious hunt that catching Q in his serpentine backsliding would require, not to mention the mental strain of many false starts and dead ends.
Hotty Totty herself was not prepared for the mental agony this hunt brought not only on herself but her audience, which demanded that Q be one deranged bastard indeed to deserve the six-month hunt to catch him, let alone his paramour. Yet caught Q eventually was, and that was when the fun began.
Q, as soon became pleasantly obvious, was engaged in an affair with Mistress C, who was herself cheating on her own husband, who himself had hired a rival reality show, Cuckoldees, to hunt her down with an even more violent and unforgettable recrimination in mind than that which Cuckholds could not afford. When Hotty Totty confronted Mistress C, Cuckoldees were swiftly on the scene, only to just as swiftly recognize the crew of Cuckholds, a sight even more unforgettable than their swiftly forgotten punishment had just-so-recently-been. The complexities of a situation involving the punishment of both the cuckolds and cuckoldees of two inter-related affairs was felt by all and felt to be nigh impossible.
Urban warfare seemed the better option.
The crew of Cuckolds got the upper hand, armed with prearranged castration utensils whereas Cuckoldees, who had counted on holding Mistress C's punishment at a predetermined place they could not get to at the moment, could only fight with the cameras they had brought with them, which again gave the advantage to the Cuckold crew who could thus both castrate and film at the same time. Then a posse of police from the reality show PoPo arrived to shut down the fun. PoPo, however, were not to hold sway very long until Slumdog Troopers, a rival cop show led by ex-action star Flex, cased a ruckus above and beyond what anyone involved would have anticipated, even granted that several members of both PoPo and Slumdog Troopers had ongoing legal battles with Cuckolds and some with Cuckholdees over former episodes with still unresolved punishments that were, with supreme irony, the legal obligation of each opposing police force to prevent. Flex, as fate would have it, recognized Mistress C's backside among the tumult and remarked that he was acquainted with her backside before he impregnated and therefore abandoned her in the course of his career's descent into cop reality shows, which he also remarked bore a comical resemblance to her equally pathetic descent, despite never having been famous, to cheating-based reality shows.
At this point Maury Povich, epistemological provocateur, was on the scene with the sundry results of lie-detector sessions involving not only Flex and Mistress C, but all parties involved in a tangled network of cheating and chasing and punishments and lawsuits of decreasing degrees of comprehensiveness. He had these results organized alphabetically in a scroll that hit the floor with a bang like a firecracker that brought several onlookers to the scene. He then began orating his results over the one remaining megaphone. "Flex. I asked you if you licked ice-cream off of Fiffa's butthole wearing an Easter Bunny suit while you sat on a pink-ruffled toilet filled with Pez and lollipops. You said no. The lie-detector determined THAT WAS A LIE!" And so on.
The conflict reached a bloodthirsty height when the Ancient Aliens crew arrived to double-check the rumors they had heard on the fringe websites known only to them of the fights on-going nature, which caused the Swamp People of New York to arise and try to quench the fight for motives unknown (SPoNY comes on USA, at 9, thus out of the CBS and NBC affiliated Cuckold(ee) rivalry although Ancient Aliens, syndicated beyond recognition in a time zone also known only to them, should rightly have no beef with anyone), which aroused the ire of Ice Road Lot Lizards, who have an inexplicable beef with every show. Pawn Stars, ever eager to maintain their dubious supremacy on the hierarchy, dished out free weapons of antique trustworthiness to those favored to win, before Gene Simmons’s Football team came and gave the fight a Kiss of Death. The results of the fight, still being orated over by Maury, left only guts and goo for American Pickers to salvage.
So that is why TV might suck this weekend.