Jeremy Eaton
Oh, I'll tell you why you aren't famous! It's because you don't have a fancy New York PUBLICIST. For example, meet MY fancy New York publicist, Sy Goldberg.

Hello, how ya doin'? Sy Goldberg here. Now I'm not one to toot my own horn, but before he met me? Wm.™ Steven Humphrey was a putz. He was a nothin', a nobody, less than zilch. Sure, he had his own TV column, but who gives a schmutz? TV columnists are cold fish, baby! COLD FISH! So what did I do? First I put that trademark after his name. A trademark says, "Hey Everybody! I am WORTH SOMETHING in the corporate world." It also says, "Fuck with me, and I'll take your yurbleshibbitz to court."

Second, I did for him what I did for the Britney Spears--I made him sexy. Time was, you couldn't pay a hooker to sleep with him. But one little surgical procedure, and now he's beating the females off with a shmekel. "Honey-baked ham"? I don't touch the stuff. But the girlies? They LOVE it!

Third, and most importantly? RUIN THE REPUTATION. Ever heard "there's no such thing as bad publicity"? Good or bad, you gotta appear in the gossip pages EVERY DAY. Who leaked the news about Humpy shtuping the mayor's daughter? ME. Who gave him the idea to steal a retarded monkey from the zoo? ME. In tomorrow's gossip column we learn that a certain TV columnist has been sniffing coke off the tuchis of the Olsen twins! Oy gevalt, what a humdinger! And then there's the homosexual tryst with Smallville's Tom WellingÉ.

OKAY, SY! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! Christ, if I get any more popular, I'm gonna have to clone my vurshtl. Anyhoo, as we can see, having a fancy New York publicist is CRUCIAL--especially if you have no discernible talent or purpose in life. Take the famous New York socialite Paris Hilton, for example. She was just another rich debutante before she got a publicist. NOW she's got it all! Daily write-ups in the gossip rags, an extremely popular amateur porn tape, and even her own TV show premiering this week! It's called The Simple Life (Fox, Tues & Wed, Dec 2 & 3, 8:30 pm), and Holy Mother of Humpy is it a winner!

Here's the poop: Paris and best friend Nicole Richie (the wealthy and equally worthless daughter of Lionel Richie) are taken from Daddy's mansion and plopped down on a working dairy farm in Arkansas. Like Survivor, Paris and Nicole are only allowed to bring along two "comfort" itemsÉ which in their case are a Louis Vuitton handbag and Tinkerbell--a terminally shaking Chihuahua.

While many call the show a "fish out of water" story, it's more like "fish out of water, and thrown in a glass of battery acid"; Paris and Nicole are actually forced to milk cows, share a single bathroom with seven people, clean up chicken shit, and most horrifically--shop at Wal-Mart!

Now personally, I think this show is a lazy and stupid way for Paris to increase her fame--but unfortunately, my publicist disagrees.

You bet yer bupkis I disagree! But remember, folks: The "Wm.™ Steven Humphrey Amateur Porno Show" is online right now for your enjoyment. Swear to God, you're gonna schvitz!