How to Become a Television Star Yourself

If nary of tooth in a hepatitis puddle, flirt with hyperstitioning intervention from what you’ll come to understand as the “retrochronic hyperintelligent AI […] that infected mankind somewhere around 1500. ”73

One: If your redolent and soleless shoes had certainly seemed safe from theft, find yourself sorely mistaken as you awaken shoeless after but a moment’s slumber.

Two: Struggle to maintain some bluffed wager of at least agnosticism.

Three: Wheel about gingerly in search of Reserves. Make eye contact with the offending tent-merchant. Receive stern look from this bottom-line focussed individual. Engage him with your own look of defiance, i.e. ‘What more can your business model possibly extract from me, sir, when even my footwear, like the love of my sister, is but a distant artefact of the past? Certainly none of my teeth, as most have been swallowed or spit upon concrete by now. Worst you might 73 (Land, Crypto-Current, An Introduction to Bitcoin and Philosophy, 2018) abscond with is a nerve ending or two, practically a favour at this point. ”

Four: Savour the ghastly power borne of utter hopelessness. Understand that you are to be feared. If wheelchair-bound, resist the urge to pull back your fist in the classic ‘fake punch to see if the offending publican will flinch’ maneuver, as you’d only punch the publican’s sternum at best. Realize this is the Infernal Serpent’s best offer: not benevolence, only the sad substitute of ambivalence.

Four: Wheel towards a baby stroller serving as a Bier Market. If not yet adept at wheelchair-navigation, resist the urge to steer using feet bloody and suppurated enough without trodding a streetscape of broken bottles, urine, feces, hep-c blood, hep-a blood, mucous, semen, bile, blood mixed with bile, and etc.

Five: Should a sturdy Ford Transit van seem a likelypurveyor of health services, figure you could benefit from a Band-Aid-brand adhesive strip or two.

Six: Kick at the van door. Punch at the van’s black tinted windows. Realize exactly how the more uncouth homeless develop their entitlement, e.g. ‘“Hey, give me five dollars!” shouted at a child entering a Quizno’s. ’

Seven: If a bic’d-headed man with the physical heft often associated with a bodyguard/enforcer-type rolls down the window, misunderstand in normative-colonialist fashion the shiny black van as a mobile command unit for maybe the Bloods or Crips, known to you from Viacom’s police procedural law enforcement fetish products. Entertain notions of leveraging cartoonish Viacom Crips v. Bloods before remembering the Outlaws v. Hell’s Angels debacle back in that lone geographic location more dismal than Skid Row, sad old Sault Sainte Marie.

Eight: Should a rear-passenger window roll down, meet the gaze of one of the more beautiful women you’ve encountered in thirty-seven years on the prison planet. Shiny black hair. Everything agleam. Obviously no Catherine, but like Catherine’s dark diametric alter—agleam not just with youthful-optimism but with nootropical-fertility-augmentation. Know from the equipment behind her that she is from the TV.

Nine: If her smile says your immediate salvation has come manifest through whichever omniscient-party was most inclined to manifest it, then introduce yourself, “Good day. I am a small-press novelist, blogger, and upstart-theologian fallen on hard-times. Who among us on Skid Row sings a dissimilar song of circumstance, you rightly ask? Who doesn’t question God’s sense of time and urgency? Theodic bugaboos aside, my Amazon Author Page can confirm I was once considered rather handsome in a third-rate soapopera-villain type of way, and only recently lost the teeth in a landlord-tenant dispute rather than to nickel-rocks of Hummin’ Harold. ”

Ten: “He’s perfect. He is just perfect. He really is just perfect for the show. Howie, help him into the van. ” – Dr. Maya Achlys-Septis.