Shepard's Pie: Taken Abackdraft

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Vol 47 Issue 01

Modern-Day Cowboy Rides 18-Wheeler Full Of Entenmann's Products Westward

SOLOMON, KS—Awakening to the lonely howl of a distant coyote early Tuesday morning, C.J. Hoppel climbs into his 18-wheeler and sets off westward across a barren stretch of unbroken prairie, the whipping wind his only companion as he pulls a rig full of Entenmann's baked goods and snack cakes across the plains.

Robert Gibbs Stepping Down

While House press secretary Robert Gibbs announced he would be leaving his position as White House press secretary to work as a political adviser.
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Shepard's Pie: Taken Abackdraft

I don't normally like to break from our never-ending torrent of sports here on the Pie, but I had to complain about a piece of absolute trash I saw on the television this week.

I was having one of my famous Staying-In Sundays with the wife, making hot toddies and curling up in our matching leopard-print Snuggies, watching the old telly. We make the todd's non-alcoholic to warm our souls while our blood stays cool. Basically, it was a pretty great set-up. What could possibly go wrong?

As it turns out, a lot. Read on.

My wife decided to "powder her nose" during a quick Game Show Network commercial break and left me the clicker. Hoo boy watch out! I am a channel-surfing demon, and this was no exception. It's like a drug to me, like I can never find the perfect thing to watch. Nothing good on Lifetime, nothing on Hallmark. So I switch to Showtime and see if anything "lascivious" is going on. Maybe a glimpse of thigh to get me in the mood for… whoa let me stop right there!

Anyway, I get to Showtime and it's even better than thigh: it's Kurt Russell and William Baldwin. Say no more, I am hooked. They're dressed in some Kevlar-thermal coats so I figure it's a firefighter movie, which combines two of the things I love: movies and bravery. So I buckle in…

…and no less than three minutes later I am staring at a moist, sticky corpse on a hospital bed.

I immediately vomit, all over myself, my Snuggie and my couch. I'm dizzy but I rush to the bathroom and throw myself at the door- locked! M'lady is inside doing her lady business. I've apparently led with my head so I'm knocked out cold for what seems like hours but is actually only a few seconds.

I come to face first on the floor in another puddle of vomit (we had eaten mutton) and by this time my wife has opened the door, frantic, asking what's wrong. I'm not ashamed to admit, I am crying more than a little as I tell her about the upsetting image Showtime has force-fed down our television screen. And there I am, left crying, shaking and caked in vomit in my naked wife's arms (she has to be naked to use the restroom and she wouldn't mind me telling you that).

The fun I had researching the physical phenomenon that is a backdraft did only so much to allay my anger. I don't care if it was made in 2011 or 1991, Universal will not be getting any more of my hard-earned money if they're going to continue showing charred, oozing corpse after charred, oozing corpse. Just writing that made me a little nauseous.

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