Inspired by the past three weeks worth of McMahon's Million Dollar Giveaway themed episodes of Monday Night RAW, specifically Vince's: (1) comically futile attempts to operate a touch tone telephone; (2) inability to hold a brief and decidedly non-awkward on-air conversation with the mutants that enjoy his sanitized, homogenized, and increasingly listless and directionless interpretation of professional wrestling on a regular basis; (3)
Rickrolling by someone still irate that Ricky Astley lost the 1989 Best New Artist Grammy to Tracy Chapman and hellbent on revenge; and (4) stubborn refusal to award yours truly a life-changing amount of money for doing nothing more than writing down the secret password, flipping the channel over to
Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman on the Hallmark channel, awaiting a phone call, and resuming binge drinking from the comforts of my
bean bag, I fired off the following email to Dixie Carter, Total Nonstop Action Wrestling's chief mismanager of talent, waster of potential, purveyor of
jackassery repackaged as
whimsy, signer of WWE cast-offs to lucrative, guaranteed multi-year contracts, proponent of hexagonal rings, and launderer of Don West's shiny, neon colored dress
shirts.
Dear Dixie:
I am writing to share an idea with you and TNA management that is guaranteed to launch The Impact Zone's television ratings from a not disrespectable 1.0 into the stratosphere...we're talking 1.1 and with perseverance even a 1.2 rating!!! Before I spell out this plan in further detail, allow me to digress for a moment. I've been a big fan of yours since you played the proper and dignified southern belle Maggie McKinney (otherwise known as Mrs. Phillip Drummond) on the side-splitting Diff'rent Stokes ("What you talking 'bout, Maggie!?"...freakin' hilarious) and later as the genteel and sophisticated southern belle Julia Sugarbaker on the timeless Designing Women. Your range and versatility are to be commended.
Alright, back to the purpose of my correspondence. While it's been a while since your wrestling promotion has impacted my life -- this idea is sure to get me and cash strapped, handout starved, get rich quick scheme inclined fans just like me tuning in again.
On each edition of Impact, I propose that you give away the sum of one million pennies -- in various increments, of course -- to your viewing audience. The logistics are quite simple really. Have contestants register for the contest the week before on your website, call them up during the broadcast from the top of the ramp way, have a wrestler the caliber of say a Kip James or Shark Boy join you and do/say/add absolutely nothing of merit, engage the randomly selected contestant in some forced banter, ask them to regurgitate the secret password that you perpetually scroll on the crawler throughout the broadcast (passwords should be uncreative, self-promoting, and uncomplicated so as not to frighten or confuse your pronunciation challenged audience, i.e. "Watch TNA and Win" or "Victory Road"), declare them a winner, and sometime over the next 10-12 weeks send them a (gunny) sack of pennies through the mail. And just sit back and watch the TV viewership, PPV buys, merchandise sales, website hits, and opportunities for additional NASCAR cross-pollination skyrocket!
Just ask the WWE what a desperate promotional tactic of this caliber can do to boost ratings. *Fact checks previous statement* Oh...um, never mind.
If you would like more information about this lucrative opportunity, please visit Arabian Facebuster, the most respected, least read site for professional wrestling news, commentary, analysis, Hulk Hogan bashing, and Larry Nelson facial hair admiration in all of the interwebs.
XOXO,
Malibu Sands
I Rickrolled that bitch good.
Inspired by the past three weeks worth of McMahon's Million Dollar Giveaway themed episodes of Monday Night RAW, specifically Vince's: (1) comically futile attempts to operate a touch tone telephone; (2) inability to hold a brief and decidedly non-awkward on-air conversation with the mutants that enjoy his sanitized, homogenized, and increasingly listless and directionless interpretation of professional wrestling on a regular basis; (3) Rickrolling by someone still irate that Ricky Astley lost the 1989 Best New Artist Grammy to Tracy Chapman and hellbent on revenge; and (4) stubborn refusal to award yours truly a life-changing amount of money for doing nothing more than writing down the secret password, flipping the channel over to Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman on the Hallmark channel, awaiting a phone call, and resuming binge drinking from the comforts of my bean bag, I fired off the following email to Dixie Carter, Total Nonstop Action Wrestling's chief mismanager of talent, waster of potential, purveyor of jackassery repackaged as whimsy, signer of WWE cast-offs to lucrative, guaranteed multi-year contracts, proponent of hexagonal rings, and launderer of Don West's shiny, neon colored dress shirts.
1 comment:
For Pity's Sake! the Damn "rickrolling" Link will still not load on screen! What is this heinous action?
Perhaps TNA could offer say Samoa Joe and a Rotary phone to call its lucky winners of pennies. 'Cept the mighty Joe's digits are more like Samoan Sausages an incapable of operating said rotary dial phone.
Then Kurt Angle comes out, looking all crazy and skinny. Then They Fight. MMA Style. Something like that.
Except that would make too much sense on TNA.
Forget about it.
rev.
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