jeremy eaton

Almost every week I'm inundated with letters much like this one: "Dear Wm.™ Steven Hump-Me: Who do I have to orally gratify in order to see David Hasselhoff in a new television show? O! I do adore David Hasselhoff, and often imagine my weary head resting in his soft, silky back hair. In my dreams, David Hasselhoff and I skip gaily through fields of clover, race shopping carts down frozen-food aisles, or assist the police in solving a murder. But when I awake, the question is always the same: Where is David Hasselhoff?! Even TV is disappointing when there is only the occasional Baywatch or Knight Rider repeat to quench the fire eternally burning within my pants. Why aren't there any NEW shows starring David Hasselhoff? And—as mentioned earlier—who do I have to orally gratify in order to make such a show happen? Signed, A Concerned Reader. P.S. It would be best if I could administer the oral gratification via email—my work schedule is very busy."

Dear "Concerned Reader": You're preaching to the choir, baby! It's unfathomable that Hasselhoff isn't allowed his own TV show—let alone his own network. Did you see this season's American Idol grand finale? When that Jay Leno look-alike Taylor Hicks was crowned the winner, the camera cut to a quick shot of David Hasselhoff in the audience crying like a baby. It took a moment for me to recognize him (at first I wondered, "Why is my long-lost lesbian aunt crying about Taylor Hicks?"), but when I did, I was overcome with impotent rage.

"How dare you, TV?" I screamed. "How dare you deny the world this living, breathing bundle of hirsute emotion? I ask—nay, DEMAND—that David Hasselhoff be prominently featured on some sort of reality TV program... preferably one where people are competing for large amounts of cash! Like... ohhh... I don't know... some kind of talent show!" And just like that, my prayers—and those of a Hasselhoff-starved nation—were answered. This Wednesday (June 21, 8 pm, NBC), David Hasselhoff triumphantly returns to primetime in a new show entitled, America's Got Talent.

An old-fashioned talent show, America's Got Talent features jugglers, dancers, comedians, and an assortment of freaks who refuse to be classified. Each will be required to strut their stuff for a panel of judges which includes Moesha (or "Brandy" as some of you insist on calling her), and "UK television/media personality" Piers Morgan—who I suppose will be the resident "English dick."

BUT WAIT! THERE'S ALSO HASSELHOFF! See, it'll be David's job to carefully judge each contestant to see who can come closest to achieving a Hasselhoffian level of awesomeness. (An impossible task? You bet your ass. But it'll be hilarious to watch them try.) Then the most talented person in America (next to Hasselhoff) will win a million dollars (that's 59 million less than what Hasselhoff makes), and then they'll die, happily knowing that for one brief shining moment they basked in the hairy glow of the one, the only, DAVID MOTHERFREAKING HASSELHOFF.

P.S. You can send that oral gratification directly to me. After all, the show was my idea.