Showcase Meltdown

Now that the original mitt face, Bob Barker, has hung up his spurs, it looks like yours truly is the official new Senor Melanoma around town. I gotta admit that watching Barker’s last Price is Right episode made me misty eyed a couple of times, but by the end of the show I started asking myself, “What does ol’ Barker have that this Dog doesn’t?” I’ve got a little over two months before Price is Right starts taping its fall season, and so it’s time to kick things into high gear. Barker, I wish you a happy retirement sunbathing like a salamander on a giant boulder in your backyard wearing nothing but bright red Speedos and a half gallon of motor oil-quality body grease. Bon voyage, good buddy. Meanwhile, I’m going to be competing for your old job against Tony Danza, Rosie O’Donnell, and the moustachioed Simon from tv’s Simon and Simon. I’m pretty sure he was also Major Dad, and if that’s true then he’s easily my stiffest competition. That show is a classic. Danza doesn’t have me worried because that guy couldn’t host his way out of a pizza box, and if O’Donnell gives me any trouble, I’ll just kick her in her nuts. But Major Dad, he’ll be trouble.
















If I was Major Dad, all those brats would be attending Gitmo University

First things first, putting together my portfolio of game show suggestions. Out of respect for Barker’s legacy, I figure leaving well enough alone might be best at first, but in the long run I’ve got some big changes planned. My first idea for a game is to change “Plinko” to “Pinko.” In the original version, you dropped a flattened cow patty-shaped object down a bunch of nails to win money. Big whoop. In my version, we pick contestants out of the studio audience and identify whether they’re a commie or not. How do I know? I can smell it on ya. What, you think gherkins and cabbage borscht gives off a subtle bouquet? Peasant, come on down! You’re the next contestant on The Price is Right. I suppose since we ain’t playing for toilet paper or flour you ain’t interested. Well, guess what? You can recreate the Cold War in this new fridge!








Beth cleans the toilet bowl at home with this stuff, and it really keeps our shit throne pearly white





My next idea for a game is called "Tazer Pants." It’s simple. I tazer you and if you don’t piss or shit your pants, you get a chance at a luxurious prize. If you only piss your pants, you get a second chance, but if I smell dump, you’re finished. Next.













No problem, sweetheart, you ready to give “Tazer Pants” another try? You could win a new riding lawnmower if you do...

My third idea is a game in which you look at pictures of the world famous Barker’s Beauties from all through the years, and you have to guess the correct year in which each one went from being one of “Barker’s Beauties” to one of “Bob’s Barkers.” In other words, when did Bob kick a particular beauty out of his rotating stable of involuntary personal escorts for being too old?





The meat in this “Bob Barker Sandwich” expired about twenty years ago




The next game I can’t take credit for. I saw it years ago on Cambodia Price is Right, and it’s called “If You Can’t Take The Heat.” Now I don’t know how comfortable American daytime audiences are with full on torture on their televisions, but let me just say this game involves an ant hill, rope, red ants, and a spot in the CBS parking lot that must be hit direct sunlight every midday. Cambodia Price is Right ain’t on the air anymore, but in its heyday that show used more snakes and insects than I could count, and was pretty much a cross between Fear Factor and a snuff film. Weird thing is, the contestants played for the same General Electric appliances in Cambodia as they did on the American version. I guess GE worked out some bulk deal or something.

The other game we could have lifted from Cambodia Price is Right is called “Anything to End the Pain,” but I figure the suits in the game show department at CBS will want to do some market testing on “If You Can’t Take The Heat” before rolling out too many new ideas. A game that everyone is sure to love, though, is called “Do Duane’s Dirties.” This one’s simple: the first contestant at the start of each show is given a bag of my laundry, and if they can have it washed, dried, and in my dressing room by the end of the show, they get a chance at the Showcase showdown. If not, they still get to finish my laundry, they just don’t get anything for it. And a warning ahead of time, don’t you dare put my Spongebob Squarepants underwears in the drier. They’re 100% cotton and will be rendered unwearable after even the lightest of spin cycles. I learned my lesson after drying my Man-At-Arms He-Man undies on high heat years ago.



Exactly what kind of a nightclub are we going to?





I gotta wrap this brainstorming sesh up, but my last two ideas are, “Play More Notes on the Guitar than Dog.” I can play one note, a G chord, and even that makes my ring finger hurt if I hold it too long, so if you can play two notes, you win. This will be my “Hole in One,” and we can pull it out for times when we are desperate to give out prizes.
















Me and George W. playing Dueling Banjos would be deadly on the ears

My last idea is called “If You Can Use It, You Can Have It.” This one’s real simple: we call up anyone from the studio audience over the age of sixty-five – that should be real hard - and have them hook up and use an electronic device on stage. It don’t matter what kind it is, a DVD player, a CD player, a microwave. I don’t care. But no instructions are allowed, and they get two minutes.






Gramps, you have two minutes…go!









And the audience don’t have to worry about me helping the contestants out, because I’m dumber than shit when it comes to anything that goes blip, blap, blop. The last time I used a VHS was when I tried to heat up a pizza pocket in the slot where the tapes go, and ended up wrecking my daughter’s out of print copy of The Little Mermaid as she was watching it. I hope Walt Disney is smiling down on us from his cryogenic chamber in the sky knowing that his legacy is a country full of pissed off parents who have to spend hundreds of dollars on ebay should a particular “classic” be locked up in the Disney vaults until who knows when, so that the whole family can share Walt’s precious fucking legacy in the here and now. Thanks “pal.”