In Defense of Jazz Hands and The Kung-Fu Grip™


According to Quincy Jones, this ugly American had sex with a mailbox. 

In a world where voices are farts, I would like to preface the following with: Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one and they’re all wrong.

You may call me privileged, or worst, an American, but beneath this slimy veneer, I am a dreamer, one of those stupid optimists. With this, I believe that free network television can be better. We, most importantly, I deserve it. They need to conjure up some way to even the playing field so they can honestly compete against cable television and streaming services. At this rate, the networks are taxicabs, and HBO® is the Uber®, but more expensive. The answer to their survival is simple, use cuss words after 8 PM Central Time. Before you rebut with: what about the children? Shut the fuck up.

Look, wouldn’t you rather your child learn fundamental swears from a federally regulated television instead of the hungover P.E. educator on Monday mornings? Or the neighborhood sailor mama/papa who hangs out at the newsstand? Or the boorish fellow who currently holds the status, president of the United States, Donald Trump? Father issues and pee fetishes aside, this is the guy who owns the term “Ugly American”.

If you think about the weakened state of the networks, you must acknowledge the power of cable television news. 24-hour news without breaking news equals opinion and less facts. All these choices; so many choices tailor-made for specific demographics.

If you’re familiar with the Bible, God sure was powerful and vengeful, right? Specifically, I speak of the post-Great Flood tale about The Tower Of Babel®. As the peeps (I believe back in the day, they were called people) conspired and erected a tower to be closer to God and heaven, God, the Road Runner® of the B.C. era, defended himself. He confounded the peeps with many languages so they could no longer communicate with each other, so they could no longer congregate against Him™ as a united front. By the by, the peeps represented Wile E. Coyote®. What is the dark secret that God fears from a world united?

This feeling of anxiety, malcontent, and inability to connect with our fellow peeps is what it must have felt like moments prior to the Tower Of Babel® dealio. If we value emotion the same way they did back then, and you had an accurate time machine, a good one, not one of those American-made monstrosities, you could introduce them to fidget spinners®, and make a shit ton of money.

Remember: Perfidious are those who fall face first in mud, only to rise cleaner. Something about pearls before swine.


2 thoughts on “In Defense of Jazz Hands and The Kung-Fu Grip™

  1. Pingback: The Forensics Of Failure | The Home Of DJ Sung Mo Koo

  2. Pingback: Run Of The Mill, Until | The Home Of DJ Sung Mo Koo

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