David Kronke was appointed Mayor of Television after a bloodless coup in 2000. Since then, he has improved infrastructure, championed greater educational opportunities and fought for reforms that have utterly erased corruption and incompetence from the television industry. Since Mr. Kronke has ascended to power, Television is a far better place. Showtime’s Big Box of Death
We have previously discussed in this space Your Mayor’s potentially fatal allergy to nuts, in a rollicking saga that posited BBC America as the KGB, me as Alexander Litvenenko and nuts concealed in a chicken-salad pastry as polonium-210. It saddens me to have to report yet another attempt on my life, but another network has seen fit to plunge the Good People of Television into chaos by attempting to extricate their leader with extreme prejudice.
A package from Showtime arrived today. Inside was a festively decorated holiday tin, circled by a gold sash; my Spidey Sense pinged immediately upon reading the message on said sash: “Couldn’t you go nuts choosing your favorites?” Sure enough, the tin held pralines, pecan brittle, a “gopher” (pecans doused in chocolate and corn syrup), a mystery death covered in red dye and other sinister potential killers. A bitterly ironic card read, “Thank you for your support in 2007.”
A robotic bomb unit removed the tin and its contents and detonated them inside an iron chamber at a remote undisclosed location. Hazmat crews are wrapping up their cleansing of my domicile and, after giving me a lye scrubdown with wire-bristle brushes, assure me I am no longer in danger. Somewhere, executives of Showtime (which is overseen by AMPTP member Les Moonves – coincidence? I think not) are cursing themselves for being too literal with their Riddleresque clue as to the contents of the death-dealing package.