Last week I almost bought an Ab Slide off TV.

 This is not something I am proud of. But there I was, laying in my bed, eating potato chips and wondering what ball gown I would wear to my Miss America photo shoot in Milan the next day, when the infomercial caught my eye. Sure, my stomach is already rock hard, my abs as pronounced as potatoes under a milky white satin sheet, but couldn’t they be a little harder? I mean, I can’t bounce quarters off them or anything. So I leapt out of bed and ran for the phone.

 I am one of those unfortunate people who is highly susceptible to infomercials. I have no idea why this is; I really have no need for salad shooters or hair removal products. But yet, here he is, my good friend Mr. Television, telling me all about these wonderful products, and suddenly something snaps in my brain and it’s like "gee, I’ve never eaten a salad in my life, but maybe if I had one of those things I would," or "What do I need eyebrows for, anyway! Let’s rip those suckers out!"

And there I am, jotting down the phone numbers on the backs of the many letters I have received from the president begging me to come to the White House (you avert one Mid-East crisis and suddenly you’re ready for the Lincoln bedroom.)

I think this might be because these ads are disguised as television shows. There’s always some woman on there, crying about how Nads removed the hair on the back of her hands and allowed her to marry Bill Gates, or how Oxy Clean can remove blood stains from car upholstery (a problem I deal with every day in my profession as a hitman.) I trust my television too much to lie to me. These products must work! TV has never led me astray before.

But there’s always something that keeps me from ordering. Usually, it’s someone else. If I were a hermit living in a shack in the woods with no neighbors for miles around, I guarantee you I would have flat abs, no excess hair, and the cleanest shower stall in the tri-county area. But since I am a member of society, I am constantly being intercepted just before beginning my twelve easy payments of only $19.95. It’s just not fair.

However, these infomercials have taught me one thing: if there’s anything that will catch the eye of the average television viewer, it’s a member of the cast of "Three’s Company."

Announcer: Hello, I’m Joyce Dewitt! You may know me as Janet, from "Three’s Company."

Sucker: Yes, we do! We’ll buy anything from you!

Joyce Dewitt: Well, I’m not selling anything.
Sucker: Can I buy your watch?

Joyce Dewitt: No. What I’m really here to tell you is that Kim Shable, R.S. Ross and Jared C. Crooks are giving their senior reading on October 30, 2000, in 242 A & H at 4:30!

Sucker: When was that again?

Joyce Dewitt: Kim Shable, R.S. Ross and Jared C. Crooks are giving their senior reading on October 30, 2000, in 242 A & H at 4:30!

Sucker: I’m sorry, I’m hard of hearing. Could you say that one more time?

Joyce Dewitt: Kim Shable, R.S. Ross and Jared C. Crooks are giving their senior reading on October 30, 2000, in 242 A & H at 4:30! Dumbass!

Sucker: Whatever you say, Janet! We’ll be there with bells on!

Joyce Dewitt: My name’s not Janet.

See? Doesn’t that make you want to come to my senior reading? Doesn’t it make you want to bring all your friends? I would come, if I were you. Janet thinks you should come. And isn’t that really all that matters?