I was sitting in my
boxers, drinking
beer and eating a block of
cheddar the size of an
engine block, flipping chanels after
Iron Chef, when, lo, my eyes beheld
Mr. T, in full
gold chains, yelling at people about
automobile insurance. Later, I catch him telling a bunch of
check writing nincompoops even he has financial troubles, and not to be ashamed to go to a
company called '
Check into
Cash'.
How far has Mr. T fallen? Sure for a while everbody thought he was dead, and there was that shameful ball-eating period. In vain, I tried denial, hoping it was just some Mr. T look-alike, but no. Is this where all of my childhood heroes are headed? Flushed down the sewers of public access television? I suggest if we can set up a website to save Lars Ulrich from poverty, it's the least we can do for Mr. T. Wipe the tarnish off those chains! Return him to his former glory, that he may once again proudly pity the fools.