The first thing to go when you become a powerful television personality is your ability to connect with the little people.
For example, the other day I had to let go of an old houseboy. Did I enjoy having to fire him for mouthing off? And by "fire," I mean tossing him into the activity pit with Fluffy, my Komodo Dragon that I purchased from Nicolas Cage after it ate one of his girlfriends.
No, sometimes being an adult means taking situations into your own hands. And that brings me back to the little people, otherwise known as children.
People say children are our future and if we just listened to them we'd learn so much.
We've been brainwashed into believing kids are mini-moralists, when in fact they are hateful little creatures who would sell their grandmother into slavery, if it got them a basket of Zagnuts.
On every sitcom the child is always the smartest. How hilarious that later in life the actor who plays that child ends up decomposing in a West Hollywood flophouse, strapped to a bed, in a leather jock strap, with an orange duct-taped to his mouth.
That makes me laugh. Occasionally I'll guffaw. I seldom snort.
Speaking of being sold into slavery, that's the answer. I think we need to consider selling off our teenagers. We could even raffle them off or have some kind of teenager lotto. When we export Levi's to China, we could throw in extra teenagers. Buy a jean, get a teen.
It will solve our national debt and eliminate Dakota Fanning.
Don't get me wrong: Enslaving individuals is wrong. But teenagers are not individuals. They are barely human. Let's give them something useful to do. I, for one, need my activity pit drained.
And that's my gut feeling.