Outsource This!

When Dex Rexter came to me last week and said "Chester, we're going to outsource our movie reviews to India", I about choked on my kielbasa, onion and sauerkraut sandwich. I couldn't believe my ears! Just last month, right in our offices, Dex, Little Jimmy Shitzenzimmer and I were all ranting and raving about Bush outsourcing every job to India, Mexico or Upper Slobovia. Then Dex does this. He says we have no choice. We've got to keep up with the economic trends. He says whether we like it or not, it's the wave of the future. Bullshiviky! I'm about as livid as an Irishman who's out of booze!

What gets my panties in a bunch, besides my Hanes ultra-constricting sansabelt shorts, is that I don't see how this is going to make the economy better. Sure the price of goods will be brought down, but who's going to buy them if nobody has a job. I mean jobs are being yanked away from average Joes and Janes and given to your average Vijays and Indiras. I'm sure people are better off in India because of it, but what are we supposed to do, dag nab it! We can't all work at Starbucks. Or can we? I'll have to think about that one.

Now I'm sure that this Sanjay Tandoori is a nice guy, but we don't need to outsource movie reviews. I'm a 'with it', modern kind of guy. I'm, how the kid's today say, 'groovy'. I could write poignant, entertaining, insightful reviews for all our loyal readers. It would be easy, too. Because the only thing Hollywood puts out today is junk. Have you seen any movies lately? Everything is Grade A crapola! I mean Scooby Doo 2 is supposed to pass for entertainment? Club Dread? That's amusing? If it's not mindless drivel, it's excessive violence like that Passion movie. You're better off staying home and acting out your own scenes. That's what I do. Every Friday night is 'Cine Ala Chester' night at the Einstein hacienda. Why this past week, I performed Spartacus. I played all the parts and if I do say so myself, I was marvelous. Even the taboo bath scene was exquisite. Laurence Olivier, eat you heart out!

Well, I've forgotten what my point was. And it's a good thing, too, because it's time for Oprah. I need instructions on what to do with my life this week. I hope it's a life reaffirming makeover. I swear, if that Steadman fella wasn't in the picture, I'd be all over that vixen like spandex on…well, Oprah. O-O-O-O-Oprah! I love ya baby!