Brother, Can You Spare $1,000,000.00?

Well, it's official: former "Price is Right" host Bob Barker has officially lost his fucking mind.

It seems that the generations of exposure to "Plink-o" American cars with roll-up windows and California Emissions have taken their toll on this poor guy. Maybe he got punched in the face one too many times by Happy Gilmore-- I don't know, but something's finally cracked his nut.

I just read in The Philadelphia Inquirer, my hometown newspaper that I read every time I feel I have a brain-cell to spare, the following headline:

"Bob Barker Donates $1 Million to Save P.A. Pigeons."

And I thought to myself,

"Oh. That's nice. He'll be in an assisted living center in a matter of weeks, wearing a mung-stained terrycloth bathrobe, ranting loudly about the price of a jar of mayonnaise in 1932 and "the goddamn Japs" while a Jamaican Certified-Nurse-Assistant tugs on his arm, his eyes glaze over and his penis hangs out the fly of his smelly pajama bottoms."

Call me a negative nellie, but I'm really a goddamn wizard.

Honestly, though, I think it's great that Bob Barker wants to save the pigeons. Awesome. Power to the pigeons. Whatever. But I can't help but think that $1 million dollars could be better spent elsewhere. I mean, hey-- it's his money, he can do whatever the hell he wants with it, right?

But, I mean... pigeons?

I just don't get it. Not when there are millions of homeless, widowed, orphaned Haitians, poverty-stricken Americans, homeless, battered women, retarded kids, throngs wasting away from cancer and AIDS and fibromyalgia (that's a joke-- we all know that shit is made up), police and army widows, unemployed masses... I mean, this modern society has causes coming out of its aching, American ass-- and he picks pigeons?

Well, maybe I shouldn't be talking. I picked dead cops. We all pick something. Well, those of us with a conscience and a modicum of disposable time and income do. The rest of you shitheads just sit at home and watch "Teen Mom."

And I don't blame you. Fuckin' Farrah, man. Awesome.

I don't know what it is about this that bothers me so much. I mean, I don't think there should necessarily be authorized, organized trigger-happy pigeon shoots, used as a convenient excuse so that back-woods bumjobs in the Pennsylvania sticks can obsessively cling to their absurdly outdated 2nd Ammendment right. But, $1 million dollars? Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that this is what a man who ended every episode of his game show with the phrase, "Help control the pet population by remembering to have your pets spayed or neutered."

I mean-- his game show, people. That's how a game show ended. Every time, for thirty years. A game show. And nobody thought that was weird. What does that say about us?

Maybe I thought he had his shit more together than he really did, mentally speaking. Maybe I thought a guy who deliberately surrounded himself with incredibly well-endowed, thoroughly boneable bimbos every working day of his life was smarter and shrewder than he really is. I mean, what have pigeons ever done for Bob Barker? Why should they benefit from the contents of his extremely deep pockets? It just doesn't seem fair. Why doesn't he just sit in the park and feed them goddamn breadcrumbs and shit like every other unemployed old fart his age? They'd be much happier eating his crumbs than receiving his dough.

One thing is for sure, every time somebody goes out to their brand new car and finds it covered in thick, sloppy, streaky white bird schnarz after parking under a tree or a telephone pole, and every time some child gets its lips pecked off by some crazy fucking diseased fluttery urchin of the streets, make sure to send Bob Barker a thank you note. Maybe, if you include a SASE, he'll send you some money to get your car washed or get your kid's lips sewn back on.