Billy Mays Not Billie Jean

As CNN debates the Facebook reaction to Michael Jackson’s death and the media fuels hype and speculation about Jacko’s will – his relationship with his father etc – I want to turn your attention to the King of OxiClean Billy Mays.

Billy was the same age as the King of Pop – both were 50 when they died. They both had an uncanny ability to project their voice. They both pushed a product hard, everything you didn’t know and you couldn’t live without was Billy’s, while Jacko’s was Moonwalk music that broke all barriers.

Both men had facial features that they were renowned for. Billy had his well groomed, black beard, Jacko had a plastic nose and other facial shit that made him look like a freak.

You probably never knew that Billy had died, such has been the commotion surrounding Michael Jackson’s death. Maybe you didn’t care, after-all Farah Fawcett fucking died too.

Why should you give a fuck about a white, middle-aged, fat faced, bearded bloke, with a loud in your face voice, that is trying to sell you overpriced crap that you don’t need?

There are reasons why:

You’re like me, and you subscribe to Gol TV or Fox Soccer Channel, because let’s face it you are an addict.

It’s 4 am on Saturday morning. You’ve been out on the town. Now you’re alone, in your living room, intoxicated on whatever rocks your boat. You obviously didn’t get laid because you wouldn’t be by yourself watching infomercials on Fox Soccer channel. You’re hoping to catch a game because you’re still buzzing. The Colombian Premier League would do, fuck it, beach soccer will suffice. Instead you get Billy Mays, his big round smiling, bearded, face, his in your face persona and his product that miraculously wipes away any stain. You wonder if his OxiClean can wipe away your skid mark, herpes, or English guys with a large ego playing the Brit card in America.

You spark up a spliff and sit back.

Call in the next 10 minutes and Billy will send you not just one tub of Oxyclean but two. 10 minutes go by and you wonder if the 1-800 number will reject your request for a second tub of OxiClean because you are 30 seconds too late.

You take another puff.

The stuff you are smoking is strong. Shame there isn’t a bird sitting next to you that is experiencing the same effects as yourself. You could do with a fit, hot, naked bird, who is on-the-same-buzz-as-you.

We all could.

You would pour OxiClean all over her and wipe any immorality that you want to create. Any skank would do at this stage of the night. You are that high. You realize this because Billy is still on TV. It’s that time of the fucking night. 4 am – 6am only the skanks, druggies and the desperate are up at this hour. Oh, and Billy Mays, King of OxiClean.

When Billy Mays is on TV, you’re either coming down or about to pass out. Time has been called on the night or should I say morning. You want to go to bed but you can’t – you’re too wired. You need to talk to someone. Once again the 1-800 number comes up on your screen. You have your credit card ready – of course you do, it’s already been used for other purposes tonight.

“Thank you for calling OxiClean, my name Maria, how can I help you?”

“Maria, I need to speak to Billy Mays. I wanna know if I qualify for the second tub of OxiClean?”

“Yes, sir you qualify. I just need your credit card details and mailing address.”

You buy OxiClean and pass out on your couch and wake up the next morning to the annoying, sickly, voice of Christian Miles. Yes, you forgot to turn off your TV.

Immediately, after hearing Christian’s voice you think: How the fuck did that squeak, bum, sounding, turd get a job for Fox. I could do so much better. You then take a look at yourself in the mirror and realize why.

But then you come up with an Einstein thought. Christian Miles or Billy Mays presenting the English Premier League on a Saturday morning.

Billy fucking Mays anytime. And that is why I am going to miss the guy.

Billy Mays – RIP.

Arsenal

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