First of all, after this week’s episode, Lost (ABC, Thurs
March 20, 9 pm) will be taking a four-week hiatus. “A FOUR FREAKING
WEEK HIATUS?? WHAT THE FRAK ARE YOU TALKIN’ ‘BOUT, HUMPY?!” you
whisper. “THE STUPID SEASON JUST STARTED, SO HOW CAN THEY BE
TAKING FRIKITY-FRAKKIN’ HIATUS?!? I WILL KILL YOU!!” Okay. So
first of all, I don’t schedule TV shows—I just write about them.
Besides, if you want to kill me for telling you that Lost is
prematurely taking a hiatus, you’re going to have to get in line behind
those who want to kill me for other reasons—such as insulting the
size of their necks (Hi, Rachael Ray!), refusing to pay back
American Idol gambling bets, and conceiving a string of bastard
children who litter the United States like a handful of money-sucking
confetti.
Oh! That reminds me! I’ve finally figured out how to pay off a chunk
of that $6 million in child support. It’s called… “Put Your Bastard
Children to Work in Hollywood!” For example, did you hear that Britney
Spears’s father gets paid $2,500 per week, just to be her father? And
seriously… what does he have to do? Keep booze out of her mouth, and
cover her shaved vagina with underpants. Hmmmm… maybe he should ask
for a raise.
ANYWAY. Statistically speaking, at least one of my bastard
children has to be talented, right? So I’ll pick out the most talented
bastard, take her to Hollywood, get her a job on one of those idiotic
“Hannah Montana” shows, and then? HELLOOOOOO, GRAVY TRAIN!
My main concern is finding the little
bastard, which means
holding an American Idol–style audition. (I wonder if the
Superdome is booked this weekend?)
Now, because of my lack of parenting skills, you may have concerns
that I may not be the best possible “stage dad.” Well, EFF YOU. Could I
really be worse than Britney or Lindsay’s moms? Seriously, I
could hook my kid up to a vodka IV, crush up barbiturates in her Cap’n
Crunch, sell her on eBay’s white slave market, and STILL look like “dad
of the year” compared to those hos.
BESIDES! I’m going to have help from Hollywood’s most respected
expert on rearing stage children… ex-child-actor Danny Bonaduce.
“DANNY FRAKIN’ BONADUCE?!” you squeak. “WHAT DOES THAT DRUG-ADDLED
BOOZE HOUND KNOW ABOUT KIDS?” Well, he knows enough to get his own VH1
show debuting this week entitled I Know My Kid’s a Star (Thurs
March 20, 10 pm). In this reality competition, Danny judges 10
parent/child teams to see which kid has the makings to be the next
Hollywood star (and which parent won’t drive him/her nutso in the
process). To win $50,000 and a Hollywood contract, the teams must pass
a series of challenges, such as skill, poise, likeability, and,
probably, exiting a car without wearing any underpants.
SO! All I have to do is find the most talented of my uncountable
bastard children, fly them to L.A., scream at them until they win this
Danny Bonaduce show, and then… then… wait. I’ve forgotten why I’m
doing this in the first place. Awww, never mind. I hate kids. 