Wednesday, March 5, 2008

There's very little the film industry can do to offset my avoidance of Minesota. Forget it Hollywood, I'm not moving. Nor am I adopting plaid & stubble as an indicator of the strong, silent type. Replacements be damned! And no, cheap beer is not a prerequisite for social intercourse.

Corpses- anti-life personified Corpses- posthumous people

How about if the Playboy models were to given their own murder mystery/self-help series. This week: "Playboy models and the search for excellence, followed by Hefs girls vs. the poolside strangler". If we combined them? "Playboy Gals attain excellence in their apprehension of the poolside strangler" hmm...a bit convoluted for the viewing public perhaps, still... "Super Sexy Private Eyes Uncover Mysteries of Lingerie Never Thought

Possible"

"Miss Feburary Cracks the Scotland Yard Case (and still has time for a

carwash)"

So reads the TV Guide Synopsis:

"Barbecue Killers Quake in Fear Under Heaving Assault by Big Busty Sleuths"

(I won't even mention Private Dicks)

"Babes in Tights Crack Child Drug Ring and Gain Valuable Ephiphanies" "Super Slinky Private Eyes Bust Naughty Crimes & Attain Self-Actualization" and on-Sexy, triumphant ways of law enforcement guaranteed to boost self-image

Orgasms a'plenty while bad guys go behind bars Lap Dancing-hitting crim'nals where it hurts

Saturday! ' Columbo teams up with 1996's playmate of the year to stop a Columbian KingPin from assassinating the heads of state ("Babe in the t/JV.j "Death Wears A Thong: A Playboy Whodunit"

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