Smurf Dick and Pawn Stars

Being unemployed and an otherwise useless drain on society, I tend to watch a lot t.v. Well, when my son isn't watching America's Got Talent on an endless loop (thank's DVR). During my many ventures into the great, dying vortex that is cable/satellite programming, I have managed to suss out a few favorite shows here and there. I won't go into the majority of them, yet, as I don't want to come off as an outright moronic fuckhead too quick. I want to draw that out over time. Instead, I want to talk about one in particular that has been slapping me around with it's assholery lately. Motherfuckin' Pawn Stars.

That's right, talking about you, penis wrinkle.

Now, I like the show. I really do. It's informative, it teaches you about the history of objects that people are willing to part with, despite having been handed down for generations, for a run at a Vegas blackjack table.

Goodbye 200 year old family bible. Hello poverty!

My issue isn't with the learning or the history or the history of learning. It's with the Pawn Stars themselves. You know, about that. What's with them name? I mean, a play on 'porn stars', really? Did they watch the show before they named it? The pawn shop is run by an ever fattening father and son team, the son's obese functionally retarded friend and a walking corpse they call Old Man.... You know...arguably the three least likely people you'd ever want to see in a porno. Hell, NEAR a porno. I mean, the only thing further up the list than these guys is a porno involving your grandmother bent over a sawhorse getting drilled by an amputee contortionist or...some other shit involving your grandmother getting drilled. I just said the contortionist...because...well...I said it...and that's all you need to know. DON'T JUDGE ME! 

Damn right, Granny. Fuck em'.

Your mounted grandmother aside. Pawn Stars is a good show, when they aren't ripping off their patrons. How you ask? Watch the show. People bring in, what seems to be, an endless stream of shit. I'll admit, some of it is outright shit for shit's sake. Well, for instance, I saw one where a guy was selling a receipt from an ATM, an ATM located in Antarctica. Who gives a shit about a fucking ATM receipt from a place where, logic would dictate a fucking ATM should not fucking be? Never mind the brain dead fuck who authorized an money machine to be set up in the least populated place on Earth. Never mind that there are no fucking shops in Antarctica. Fuck all that. At the end of the day...it's a goddamn ATM receipt. Are people really buying this shit? Is there some lonely fuck face out there that has run out of every and I mean EVERY other thing to collect? I'm not excluding used D-list celebrity condoms. 

FRANK STALLONE KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKIN' BOUT!!!

Anyway, these people bring in this shit. Some of it is valuable, I'll give you that. I mean Picasso sketches and want not. That's not shit to piss around with, but, a lot is simply bullshit in object form. Now, they bring this shit in. Chubby Rick Harrison, his chubby son, his chubby son's chubby friend, the walking corpse or a combination of the aforementioned chubby's looks the shit over. If it's beyond their realm of pawning wisdom, they bring in an expert. These experts are apparently waiting by the phone for Rick and company to call, as they always show up. I'm still waiting on an episode where they say, "Look, man, I appreciate the call, but, I have a business to run too, bitch. I don't make any money running down there looking your shit over. Figure it out yourself, fuck face. Last I heard the internet has information other than porno!". Yeah, that last one was a lie...all there is on the internet is Facebook and porno. I checked. Regardless, in trudges the expert. Oh and are these guys winners (my favorite is the museum working pud in the mennonite hat who won't give out prices, what's up with that? Someone should tell him the world doesn't run on good intentions and Amish dreams). Hands are shaken and they proceed to look the shit up and down then, reveal something about it that ends in one of two ways...it's either more valuable than the gambleholic pawn patron thought or it's complete and utter shit in a box. So, exit expert and Ricky asks what they want for it. This is how it inevitably plays out. 

The expert says, "Man, this petrified Smurf dick is super rare, I'd say, if you sold it at my petrified cartoon penis auction, it might get between $20,000 and $40,000 bucks. You're a really lucky, tiny penis collecting man.". Hands are shaken, expert splits and we're left with Rick and Smurf dick to hash out the details of the transaction. Rick asks, "So, what do you want to do?", of course the response is almost always, "Sell it." to which Rick replies, "Alright, how much do you want for it?". The inevitable response is, "Well, the expert fuck said between 20 and 40k. How about...shit...30k.." or some shit like that to which Rick responds, "PFFFFfffff...he was talking at an auction, you MIGHT get that. I'll give you...nine grand." or some equally low, low mega horseshit price. This usually ends with a customer response of...

Whatduhfuck?!

Here's where I find issue with the show. After saying the incredibly low price, Rick or whoever justifies it by saying, "I have to pay a guy to take pictures and it's got to sit on my shelf and I have to make money on it..." and a myriad of other horseshit lines. The question I always want the seller to ask is, "How the fuck is that my problem? I'm selling the shit to you and an expert just told me how much it's worth, now, it's my responsibility to make sure you make money? Fuck yourself, Rick and Fat Friends. Fuck you very much.". Seriously, they could say, you know, this shit just made a nationwide million person appearance, not to mention syndication. This Smurf stiffy already found it's market, bitch." Shit, I mean, they don't need to stick around and take the corpse and sons prices. Their place makes a lot of money, a lot more money with as many people that watch the fucking show. I mean, fuck...just fuck. One person...JUST ONE! I would high five my t.v. and do a long, drawn out happy dance...which results in my junk getting shaken...not stirred. Nice visual, right? UNLEARN!