You know that jerk on TV, the crocodile hunter? ¹ I call him the crocodile teaser. I want to see him swallowed whole on his show in front of an audience of millions. Recently, the no-good glory hound dangled his own baby as raw meat in front of a huge crocodile to up the ratings because after a time, people tire of a stupid, sawed-off Aussie guy in shorts who looks like the Dutch kid who plugged the dyke with his thumb, baiting, teasing and tormenting a drugged, captive big lizard for money.

The crock teaser's wife, after the baby stunt, said something any intelligent mother whose three-month-old child had been endangered for profit would, something like, "It was wonderful, the vibes and all those teeth."

Why don't you put your head in the crock's mouth. Better yet, climb inside.

I'd like to see the crock crunch into the teaser, see the terrified look on his face at a stunt gone wrong. The crock then enters a pond, the teaser's two legs dangling from its mouth, and with a smug grin, submerges from view.

After the crock eats the guy, his wife coos and says, "It was marvy.....what vibes...that eating thing."

I'll take the crock teaser's place.

I'll call myself Stag Fury.

The show will be principally for the ladies. I'll come out in a leopard-skin G-string, with a black belt studded with silver spikes, after applying Vaseline to my biceps, shoulders and legs. I'll subdue various helpless captive animals that stagger about after being administered overdoses of Nembutal, with freeway traffic clearly visible in the background.

What we need, and I'll pitch this to producers, is a show so vile, so tasteless, so utterly lacking in any redeeming features, as to make the Roman Coliseum look like tea with Mother Teresa.

The show will be sponsored by the insurance industry.

We'll call it "Raw Crap."

©2004-6, SammonSays.com. Reprinted with permission.