It was the summer break in 4^th grade, I just moved to a new town, and I had zero friends. My best talent at the time was guessing the exact retail price of Halls Lemon Cough Drops, living room sets, and trips to Russia.

“How could he do that?” You are probably thinking to yourself.

I was a HUGE fan of The Price is Right. I would wake up every morning, turn on CBS and wait till 8 o clock when it came on. The whole premise of the show enthralled me: The lights, the enthusiastic crowd, the 1970s sets, the supermodels that exuded such poise when pointing at the plethora of items, and of course PLINKO.

But I would have to say the best thing about the show was Bob Barker.

Bob displayed the charisma of a political world leader, the charm of a Young Knight on the back of a Great White show-horse, and Chuck Norris-esque undertones of a guy you don’t want to fuck with. He controlled the show, the guests loved him, and the models all pined over him.

The one thing about game show hosts, besides the fact that they all suck, is how bad their hair looks the older they get. They think no one is going to notice suddenly your hair is black and resembles a mop head. It usually looks like road kill dipped in black paint and slapped on top of an unusually large cranium.

Bob revolutionized game shows when he refused to dye his hair to counteract the salt that was starting to overpower the pepper on his scalp. He started The Grey Trend, bringing these game show hosts out of their closet full of lies, and into the light; encouraging them to embrace mother nature and her aging ways. Soon other hosts like Alex Trebek (Jeopardy) and Richard Dawson (Family Feud) followed in his footsteps.

I began growing up; I got a job, and had vaginal intercourse for the first time. I spent many man hours trying to figure out a way to make that happen again, so on the rarest of occasions when I DID find myself sitting at home at 8 AM, I would turn on The Price is Right.

“The actual retail price of that foosball table is…” Bob would say.

“649.99″ I said back, mouth full of Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch.

“Six hundred, forty nine dollars and ninety nine cents, and the winner is Mary!”

“Still got it.”

Years later.

Due to conflicting schedules, I hadn’t watched The Price is Right at all, even in spite of numerous letters to CBS stating that they “re-air every episode at 4 when I got home from work, before I go Swayze on everyone’s ass at the CBS lot.”

One morning I called in sick to work and found myself watching TV at 7:55.

“Might as well turn on The Price is Right, see how things are panning out over there.”

I turned on the TV, and who the fuck do I see, holding the coveted skinny microphone that once graced the finger tips of The Great Bob Barker? Waddling around aimlessly on the stage that was once walked upon by Bob’s shiny size 10s? And unenthusiastically calling out the prices to various items?

Fucking Drew Carey.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. That fat, bowling ball shaped douche bag was now the host of America’s longest running game show.

The Drew Carey Show was garbage.

Whose Line Is It Anyway had the world’s greatest improvisational comics on it, yet he somehow managed to ruin almost every episode with lame jokes, and horrible attempts at singing, rhyming or any sort of motor function for that matter.

And now he was managing to completely destroy the only game show worth watching.

Recently I moved to Massachusetts, enabling me to watch TPIR during my lunch breaks at 11 o clock. This would be exciting news, if it wasn’t for Mr. Potato Head Fuck manning the helm. Still though, my co-workers turn the program on every day, forcing me to witness the shit-show happening every morning on CBS.

A few days ago, I was eating a sub par, Massachusetts burrito, watching Drew Carey practically spit on Bob Barker’s face. The Final Showdown was on, and we were all waiting to see who was going to win. This is what ensued:

God Drew Carey is such a dick. If I ever see him in public I’m going to spay or neuter him, to help control the fat-douche population. He said “you won both showcases” the same way Big Steve down at your local McDonalds says “what are you going to have?”

I wanted to like it; I tried my hardest, but the show is now completely in shambles. The models don’t seem as hot, the games don’t have cool names anymore, the prices are WAY off, and don’t even get me started on the showcase showdowns. CBS fucked up when they thought Drew Carey would be the ideal replacement for Bob.

The only good replacement would probably be John F Kennedy, but he is dead and clearly overqualified. They should’ve cancelled the show to end on a good note, so The Price is Right will live on in infamy like Michael Jordan’s career. Now with Drew Carey running that circus, it will end up more like Michael Jackson’s.

• The Telly