Gary Coleman, troubled sitcom actor and reality TV mainstay/train wreck, has died at the age of 42 after suffering a brain hemorrhage that left him in a coma and on life support. (more…)
They bitch-slapped you, dude.
Lara Spencer and her crew of played out, permed up, tacky asses shamed you on national television…
…and you let them do it.
Now, make no mistake, The Chaser doesn’t like the idea of you hitting women, and you’ve been doing it for ten years now, so the whole thing is really old now and you might want to keep those hands of yours by your sides.
And we all know what that’s about.
Yeah, you had money and your parents spent almost all of it, leaving you with spit.
Yeah, Hollywood stereotyped you because of your stature, so you got nothing but kid roles until the voice got too deep and the face got too much of the gruff.
Yeah, no one takes you seriously, and your wife is a foot taller than you, so your penis shrivels up at the thought of asserting your authority and you lash out with the only thing a guy knows how to use…his hands.
A lot of people don’t like you, Gary, and why should they? You’re a piece of dung.
I mean, you were on that silly show Star Dates in 2003, and you almost had a shot with that second chick. Coulda’ had that, coulda’ tapped that, but because you were so angry, and got on your chatterbox pulpit with a spiel on life and how hard it is and how hard you had it, by the end of the night, girlie had to get away from you.
You’re the first guy I ever saw who couldn’t put his anger aside long enough to get some.
Hell, you could get angry after it’s over, while you’re lying in bed smoking the cigarette.
So not only were you a piece of dung, but a stupid one at that.
But the Chaser is going to have mercy on you.
Now hold still…
See, now that wasn’t a bitch slap.
That was your wake-up call!
You went on that rag The Insider, a rag’s rag, a hyper-real rag known for the bottom feeder approach to the fine art of gossip, and expected a fair hearing?!?
Then you go and curse at Lisa Bloom.
Gary, Lisa is blond, Caucasian, and successful.
That’s three things she has over you in the mindset of America.
You have now made yourself Stupid Enemy Number One, and instead of doing an interview with EXPO like you should’ve (You know it’s true.), you went the typical route and now you’re the whipping boy on every site between YouTube and Hulu.
There are only three routes left for you.
Drink yourself into oblivion, or go live in Flint, Michigan, which is kinda like oblivion with less charm and more daylight.
Or you can come to mama right now, become bathed in the waters of my grace and wisdom, and have a career resurrection.
The Chaser and her top bastard Devin Cho will take you shopping, get you a new wardrobe, a scrubbing, make you read The Game over and over again, and then…
…then comes the reality TV show.
It’ll chronicle how we brought you from the bottom and made you slick enough to outdo Vern Troyer in getting girls and gigs.
We’ll beat Jersey Shore in the ratings, have you drinking with Kim Kardashian, and judging on American Idol before you know it.
Of course, The Chaser would be Executive Producer, and own one hundred percent of the intellectual property.
Don’t worry, Gary. The Chaser will break you off a little something extra.
After all, a good pimp always gives the top bitch a bonus for a job well done.