My hosting duties are done. Not that Survivor: Tatooine wasn’t fun, it’s just I’ll be glad to return to my daily life of sleeping in late, drinking too much and cussing out the help.
But while I was still on Tatooine seeing the old homestead, I also needed to swing down into Mos Eisley to get my final paycheck from the producer. Some tool named Mark Burnett I think.
Hmmmm….Dooku seems to be making a killing here too….
So I found this Burnett character’s office, and after waiting around for nearly three hours with nothing to do but look through five year old Better Blasters and Gaffi Sticks Magazines, I was allowed in to see him.
“Well Well, Mr Jawa Jude, nice to finally see you. I’d like to congratulate you on a fine job as host of my little Survivor show. The ratings were fantastic. Here’s your check.”
“What’s with all the extraneous merchandising? The place looks like a carnival out there.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. So where’s my cut in all this?”
”Oh…well…dear oh dear. Well, you see you signed on just to be the host. There’s nothing in the contract stipulating that you get any other money resulting from over blatant profiteering on your good name. eh…sorry.”
I looked at my check and it would hardly pay the rent. Great. Screwed again.
I didn’t know if I should tear this guy a new one or be flat out in awe of his business technique. I opted to find the nearest cantina and get drunk.
(Thanks to Becks for the assist on the pictures.)