“Yo I’m Dora the Explorah, and I’ve come to be yo lawyah!” Naw, that won’t work, you think. You know from your niece’s visits that Dora is by far the most revolting and traumatizing thing currently existing in the already despicable modern media realm. Knowing that the most bitter ex-spouse disputes involve not only money but that other precious commodity, kiddies, mixing in a totally obnoxious kid’s show into the sour stew of hatred you are brewing can only assist in being the stankiest heel that ever stepped foot into the ring. Your brain starts to ache with the knowledge that you will need to decide where to draw the line between Lawyah and Explorah in your costume. The first step is to reintroduce into your consciousness that which you’ve blanked out with endless nights of self-pitying booze sessions. It’s time to dig out that Dora DVD crammed into the cranny of the couch, brush off the muffin remnants, and plug that shit into your player. You’ll have to include some reference to the insolent little orphan somehow in your act, but how? First you need to figure out a way to force yourself to actually WATCH an episode of the awful show.
After raiding your mom’s cutlery drawer, you rig up a makeshift metal eye opening device you strap to your head before eating a piece of your mom’s densest pound cake, weighing you down in an un-moving state of captivation in front of the demon belching machine we call a television. You muster the last of your free will to flail your failing hand towards a remote control pressing play on the disc which somehow survived melting in the burning flames of hell from which it came. As the show begins, you immediately black out and cannot recall a single detail from the experience. As you stumble towards the kitchen to find cleaning supplies to deal with the vomit now mysteriously scattered around the couch you had weighed your person down upon, you ask yourself, “Is this really worth it?”