Would Bosley Do?
probably know Tom Bosley as Richie Cunninghamís dad, or the
sheriff on ďMurder, She Wrote,Ē but something happened in
the winter of 1947 that would change Bosleyís life forever.
After a night of binge drinking, he curled up under a car
and went to sleep. Six weeks later, he woke to find himself
in a hospital bed in Tampa, Florida. The doctor surmised that
he was dragged for over 1,100 miles. Bosley believed that
his miraculous survival proved once and for all that he was
more God than man, and decided to spend the rest of his life
as a Holy Deity. Years of mutilating his genitals to keep
sexually perverse thoughts at bay have afforded Bosley a level
of enlightenment that few have ever attained. His plan for
your life will not only free you from the burden of sin, but
will also help you generate cash by peddling curiosities.
If you are tired of living in sin and struggling to make ends
meet, simply look inside Bosleyís catalog of discounted merchandise,
hand crafted in the labor dungeons of Chinaís Xinjiang Provinceóand
ask yourself one questionÖ†What
Would Bosley Do?
part D has ruined my life. Iím old and I canít afford my medicine.
I donít have anywhere to sleep. I saw a woman on your infomercial
cursing and pumping her fist. Have you forsaken me?
woman you saw was Nina Merikan, a disciple of mine who has
made $20,000 to $30,000 on the internet. She wanted me to
tell you that in the morning she goes to her computer and
sees ĎOrder PlacedÖOrder placedí and she says, ďYes! Yes!
Yes! Fuck Yes Fuck Fuck Fuck Bastard Bitch Yes! Yes! Ass Bastard
Fuck Yes! Yes! Yes!Ē
precious, precious boy. Donít you know that man cannot live
on medicine alone? Even before the foundations of the earth
were laid, I had devised a plan for you and your life. In
the same way that I breathed the breath of life into man eons
ago, so also must you breathe $299.95 into an envelope and
send it to 966 Flower Glen St. Simi Valley, CA 93065. Verily
Richard Överily I say unto thee, access to thousands of top
selling products at below wholesale prices is the only way
to achieve salvation.
Iíve been urinating in my clothes. Iím too embarrassed to
tell my wife or doctor, so I have to walk around with a bottle
of water and pretend Iím spilling it on myself to fool people.
Iíve tried praying to Jesus and Joseph Smith, but that didnít
work. Can you please help me?
are certainly not the first man to suffer with this affliction.
Back when I was a street urchin, I used to urinate on myself
all the time. In fact, I would shit myself wherever I was,
and then just shake it down and out my pant leg as if nothing
had happened. You may not realize it, but even as Iím writing
this sentence I find myself peeing all down the side of my
desk. The urine is arcing out of my opened fly, and splashing
across some of my papers, but guess what? It doesnít bother
me. Do you know why? Because Iím looking at a scented shell
candle which I bought for $2.95, and I know that soonÖvery
soon indeed, Iíll be in my kiosk at the swap meet selling
it for $8.95. Thatís a profit of $6.00! Iím so happy, that
now Iím going to go and shit down the slots of my toaster!
With this kind of profit Iíll shit everywhere! Whoís going
to stop me?
been writing letters to Adam Brody from the O.C. because I
want him to know how much I love him. If he doesnít write
me back soon I think Iím going to hang myself in the garage.
know exactly what youíre going through. I once wrote letters
to Richard ĎBonerí Stabone because I was convinced that we
were meant to be together. His publicist contacted me shortly
thereafter, warning me that any more attempts to communicate
with Richard would result in my prosecution. She said that
I was mentally ill, and that the graphic sexual drawings I
had sent to Boner constituted harassment. I made the decision
that if I couldnít have sex with Stabone, then I didnít want
to live. I constructed a noose out of bed sheets and hung
myself from a tree, but my heft caused the limb to snap and
I fell to the earth. For three days I lay there, weeping,
until I was discovered by a man doing geologic research in
the area. He drove me to a mental hospital, where I was kept
chemically restrained for months. One day during a group session,
I came to realize that I didnít need Richardís love to make
me a complete human being. For the first time in my life,
I slept a full night without dreaming of Richard Stabone.
I also enjoy doing Sudoku puzzles.
girlfriend is worried about my health and keeps trying to
make me drink banana milk. Iíve tried to explain that I just
donít like it, but she ignores me and keeps pouring glass
after glass, insisting that I finish it. To prevent fights,
Iíve just started drinking it, but each sip makes my stomach
churn and I vomit soon after. Is there any way you can use
your powers to make her stop, or make me like banana milk?
do you have against banana milk?
you have a problem that Jesus refuses to solve for you? Tom
Bosley may be able to help. Write your petition on a sheet
of rice paper, burn it, and fling the ashes into the wind
whilst chanting ďFuck Fuck Yes! Shit Yes! Yes! Fuck Yes! Yes!
Ass! Yes! Yes! Yes!Ē The Bosley will hear you.