Tuesday, November 15, 2005

the couch lives?!

Win The Daily Show Couch

Jon, I'm...nay, we, are hurt. You let us think the Couch had died, and all this time you had the Couch. All this time worrying and putting ads on milk cartons and "Lost" signs on telephone poles around the country. Thousands of volunteers put hundreds of thousands of man-hours into organizing search parties and sending out Amber alerts, working with forensic scientists who had only a piece of stuffing to work with. They put their lives on hold to try and bring closure to this terrible ordeal. Jesus tapdancing Christ, we even enlisted the help of Ms. Cleo...and she doesn't come cheap. Sure the first five minutes are free, but she keeps you on the line for twenty or thirty, and it's like $9.36 a minute after that. Not to mention having to ask her to repeat herself a dozen times because of that goddamn accent.

There were people who spent hours and even days out in the harsh cold of the world asking, sometimes begging, for money on countless street corners around the country...and when they were walking to the nearest shelter and/or liquor store we mugged them, but that isn't the point. It was all to support the family of the Couch.

Dear God Jon, what about the Couch's family, did you ever think about them? What they must have gone through?! Can you imagine if someone told you that your father/brother/second cousin/next door neighbor/guy who lives upstairs and plays music too loud at 3am was dead and it wasn't true? Huh?! Think how your life would change. Think about how you'd feel if something so important to your life was suddenly gone. You'd be brokenhearted, crestfallen, dejected, depressed, despondent, disconsolate, not to mention heartbroken, melancholy, miserable, saddened, sorrowful, woebegone and maybe even wretched.

It's almost evil what you've done Mr. Stewart, criminal even. Taking away the shining beacon that represented all that was good and pure and just in this world and taking a big dump on it. To think that a man who millions of people let into their homes four nights a week could do something so deceitful and nefarious makes one wonder "Where have all the good men gone...?"

Shame on you Jon Stewart. Shame.

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

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