Take This Job and Shove It

Greetings, sportsfans. Bumpers here. Folks, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to make a decision. Not a little decision either, like what kind of cocktail should I have or should I take her back home? I’m talking major career decisions, like when Shelly Long quit Cheers. Well, The Showman’s at a crossroads, people.

I’ve been flying all over the country in the SportsPage biplane trying to cover the hot sporting event of the day and it’s starting to wear on me. In the old days, I didn’t think twice about flying from city to city and staying up until the next day. But now, I get tired eating a sandwich.

With this on my brain I decided to call in some friends for and old-fashioned powwow. Steve Guttenberg brought over a bottle of VO and a smoked salmon appetizer. Loni Anderson brought a pot roast and some port. Sophia Lauren came with Chianti and a tiramisu. And Johnny Carson came over with some Oban scotch and a couple of starlets on each arm.

There we were at my mansion. The whole gang together again. Well, the whole gang except for Jackie Gleason and John Denver, but they couldn’t make it for obvious reasons. So I built a raging fire out of the old promotional posters for that government-issued anti-gay propaganda movie I was in, "No Parking in The Rear". We sat around the fire passing bottles and food while talking about life.

I think we each learned a lot that night, and came away better people. Guttenberg is going to finally finish that Police Academy 8 flick, "Alien Cops" that he’s had on his brain. Johnny is going to patch things up with Ed. So I started to think of all of the things I wanted to do; like Loni and Sophia at the same time. I threw that out and after the response was less than well received. I pretended I was joking. But that’s not the point.

The point is, The Showman is 66 years young and it’s time to start acting like it. I’ve had enough of this workaday world. I thought I wanted to get back in the limelight, but after this gig I realize I really don’t. Screw it. I don’t need it. And I sure don’t need the money, as these gold pajamas that I’m wearing will show you. So, to make a long story short – I’m done.

Back to a life of seclusion for Rory Bumpers. Back to battling weight problems and drug addictions in the comfort of my oversized mansion. Back to bridge with The Golden Girls on Tuesday nights. Back to doing the things I want to do. So let me say, take this frickin’ job and shove it.

By the way, I probably should have proofread this, but what the hell do I care? Tell it to the next guy.

One last time – I’m winkin’ at ya and thinkin’ of ya.
The Showman