God said to Abraham, "Kill me a James"

The wise philosopher and contemporary of mine, one Abraham Simpson, is credited with a wealth of sage advice, a few of which resonate especially strongly for me today:

• The metric system is the tool of the devil! My car gets forty rods to the hogshead and that's the way I likes it!
• Grover Cleveland spanked me on two non-consecutive occasions
• I used to be with it, but then they changed what "it" was. Now, what I'm with isn't it, and what's "it" seems weird and scary to me.
  

Contrast this wisdom with the garbage coming from the vacuous idiot who just defecated into my TV in the form of yet another of his endless parade of quackery advertisements.


Am I the only person who has an overwhelming urge to drop kick James Lehman in the nuts and tear that goofy handlebar mustache off his face, mailing it back to Porn Valley, 1977 where it belongs?

That's what ol' James reminds me of - some old out of work porn star from the 70s who somehow finagled a "masters" shingle in social work from a fly-by-night mail order paper mill "college". Every time I catch him mumbling about his Total Transformation package on the tube, I mentally Photoshop in a big ol' Tonka Truck full of pharmaceutical grade horse shit backing up to him slowly then unloading, burying him up to his eyelids. Filling up that pie hole physically with what it's already stuffed full of metaphorically.

"Lying, acting out, blah-blah-blah ... I'll bring peace and sanity back to your home."

Really, James? I find it's quite the opposite: your mere presence on the screen compels me to act out by plastering you with lye (at least in my mind's eye). That doesn't sound like either peace or sanity.

As Abe would say, "Who are you? Get off my lawn!!"