Mr. Boone Has The Sniffles...

"...yes, Sheila, it sure is, this here's the signature edition of...huh? Can't hear me? Might help if'n I turn it on..."

Tom O'Dell filling in for Todd Boone who called in sick. Mr. O'Dell, for the 63rd show in a row, forgot to turn on his microphone and began the presentation virtually inaudible. Not that it made all that much of a difference, as he and Sheila Travis stepped all over each others words and of course the usual coughing, shuffling, and talking in the background was present and accounted for.

Simply isn't the same without Todd doing the first couple hours and setting the tone for grifting personified. Sad. Just sad.

UPDATE

History was made on the Sunday night/Monday morning Cutlery Corner presentation. Todd Boone, fragile child that he is, was once again out sick, forcing Jim Frost to lead and end with the poster children for incompetency, aka O'Dell and Travis.


BUT...for the first time in memory, and ending a string of at least 63 straight presentations, Tom O'Dell faced the camera with his MICROPHONE ON.


Since hearing Mr. O'Dell is never conducive to sales of any note, it certainly won't mean an increase in how much dirty old Asian pot metal goes out the door, and I'm sad to admit that my attempts at bribing the Cutlery Corner producer has been for naught. Sheila Travis's mike was on, even though I offered a pretty penny for someone, anyone, who could stifle Miss Giggles if even only for one night.


O'Dell, senile old drunk that he is, is at least a fixture, the dean of grifters if you will. Sheila Travis is his daughter in law, hired to keep the old guy from wandering off into the night but by now you'd think she'd have learned a wee bit of what her employer pays her to do...besides change O'Dells Depends, that is. Even staunch Cutlery Corner devotees such as myself gag at the mere sight of potato-nosed Travis, but will admit to a certain fascination attached to someone who is the epitome of all that is maladroit. 


Unqualified, untrained, unfit and unappetizing, Mrs. Travis...this evening dressed in her Sunday-go-to-Flea market best replete with dangling ear rings... is, I suppose, the female version of Todd Boone, so those watching the Frosted Flakes years from now will probably look fondly back at a time when She-Jerk was in her grifting infancy. By then perhaps, she'll have learned how to dress herself, apply makeup, comport as a female of the species and maybe even string together two or three words with nary a hint at the floundering gigglefest designed to fill in the gaps between her not knowing a damned thing, and letting it show. 


Yeah. I miss Todd.