When I was first asked to appear on the Dr. Phil show, I had one major concern. I had recently shaved my mustache and the short notice of the show gave me only a few days to grow another one.
Mission Accomplished.
For the record, I’m at least six feet tall; 6′2″ in man-inches. Dr. Phil just happens to be a giant in size — most likely due to the unceasing growth of his corporate empire. A word to the wise: if you’re going on the Dr. Phil program, wear platforms or stilts. The studio audience loves a good “short joke”.
Shortness is the only prejudice they are allowed.
While you, the viewing audience, did see me bring one bowling-pin-shaped, over-educated shrew to the brink of tears, the show cut one unfortunate, elderly woman who was already weeping before she began speaking. I made her “sad”. To that end, I must reiterate the following:
There are no women allowed on my website, and no women are allowed to buy my book. Condensed manliness is overwhelming to the female emotional palette. And I don’t like making old ladies cry.
What the show also cut was a brilliant narrative/documentary that was filmed a week prior. Myself and a camera crew caught a young woman flirting her way out of a speeding ticket. It’s a practice that we are all familiar with. It’s a practice that will continue forever because women are prostitutes — whether they put out or not.
Another elderly lady also told the six of us that we were the reason there’s a war going on in Iraq. Thankfully, that was cut. I think women looked bad enough as it was.