Alibaster K. Abthernabther's Search for America's Next Huge Douche Hole Tool
Dear Club Purgatory,
Good day to you, fabulous nightclub. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther, bestselling author, champion yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast and executive producer of high quality, basic cable reality programming.
I just wanted to thank you for allowing us to hold our casting auditions this weekend at your fine establishment. I believe this arrangement will be of great mutual benefit.
Rest assured, your association with my groundbreaking new reality show "experiment" secures your spot in pop culture history for centuries to come. Alibaster K. Abthernabther's Search for America's Next Huge Douche Hole Tool is destined to be the hottest show on the television dial, that is, if televisions still had dials on them.
Deciding to launch Alibaster K. Abthernabther's Search for America's Next Huge Douche Hole Tool (heretofore AKA's SFANHDHT) at Club Purgatory was no easy task. There was a huge pool of viable contenders to choose from; hundreds of asininely named lounges, clubs, and bars within the greater DFW area, each brimming with male clientèle possessing absolutely radioactive levels of assfacery and dickholishness.
How will this apply to AKA's SFANHDHT, you ask?
Shut the fuck up, I reply.
First, these gentlemen will face a gauntlet of skanky, skanky skanks rife with venereal disease. Then they will rent out shoddy North Dallas apartments and furnish them with saggy foutons, decorative samurai swords, and ceramic coffee table pumas. They will then be supplied with a bottomless bin of shiny button-up shirts, mega-ultra extreme stiff-hold hair gel, stressed denim jeans, and brightly colored, slatted sunglasses. They will ritually bathe in Axe deodorant body spray. They will be, in a word, irresistible.
We will chose the seven finest dick wrinkles - the creme de la shitty, the douchiest of the douchey, the kings of all cock-facedness - and cast them into a 20-foot dirt pit. Then I will personally douse them with space shuttle fuel and light them on fire.
And they will burn to a crisp and die, their fevered screams unheard, their hollow dreams unrealized.
Then I will pee-pee on their smoldering ashes.
Frankly, the only budget we could secure for this show covered two episode's worth of expenses. So, we figure we do the inital introductory round-up and pick the top, I don't know, 20 or 25 guys in the first episode. Then for the second episode we light them on fire and videotape them burning to their deaths. And I pee on them. It's a budgetary concern more than anything else.
If we secure a decent ratings share with this go-around, we can expect to have the second season of AKA's SFANHDHT airing within about 6 weeks. And, with your blessing, I hope to hold the 2nd annual auditions in Club Purgatory, in recognition of the club's undying dedication to the subhuman chauvinistic desires of the average, everyday douche-whistle.
Kudos to you, douchey nightclub!
Yours,
Alibaster K. Abthernabther
Good day to you, fabulous nightclub. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther, bestselling author, champion yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast and executive producer of high quality, basic cable reality programming.
I just wanted to thank you for allowing us to hold our casting auditions this weekend at your fine establishment. I believe this arrangement will be of great mutual benefit.
Rest assured, your association with my groundbreaking new reality show "experiment" secures your spot in pop culture history for centuries to come. Alibaster K. Abthernabther's Search for America's Next Huge Douche Hole Tool is destined to be the hottest show on the television dial, that is, if televisions still had dials on them.
Deciding to launch Alibaster K. Abthernabther's Search for America's Next Huge Douche Hole Tool (heretofore AKA's SFANHDHT) at Club Purgatory was no easy task. There was a huge pool of viable contenders to choose from; hundreds of asininely named lounges, clubs, and bars within the greater DFW area, each brimming with male clientèle possessing absolutely radioactive levels of assfacery and dickholishness.
How will this apply to AKA's SFANHDHT, you ask?
Shut the fuck up, I reply.
First, these gentlemen will face a gauntlet of skanky, skanky skanks rife with venereal disease. Then they will rent out shoddy North Dallas apartments and furnish them with saggy foutons, decorative samurai swords, and ceramic coffee table pumas. They will then be supplied with a bottomless bin of shiny button-up shirts, mega-ultra extreme stiff-hold hair gel, stressed denim jeans, and brightly colored, slatted sunglasses. They will ritually bathe in Axe deodorant body spray. They will be, in a word, irresistible.
We will chose the seven finest dick wrinkles - the creme de la shitty, the douchiest of the douchey, the kings of all cock-facedness - and cast them into a 20-foot dirt pit. Then I will personally douse them with space shuttle fuel and light them on fire.
And they will burn to a crisp and die, their fevered screams unheard, their hollow dreams unrealized.
Then I will pee-pee on their smoldering ashes.
Frankly, the only budget we could secure for this show covered two episode's worth of expenses. So, we figure we do the inital introductory round-up and pick the top, I don't know, 20 or 25 guys in the first episode. Then for the second episode we light them on fire and videotape them burning to their deaths. And I pee on them. It's a budgetary concern more than anything else.
If we secure a decent ratings share with this go-around, we can expect to have the second season of AKA's SFANHDHT airing within about 6 weeks. And, with your blessing, I hope to hold the 2nd annual auditions in Club Purgatory, in recognition of the club's undying dedication to the subhuman chauvinistic desires of the average, everyday douche-whistle.
Kudos to you, douchey nightclub!
Yours,
Alibaster K. Abthernabther