Just as America was about to get rid of the odious wanker Simon Cowell, the Brits unleashed another expensive and long-term disaster on our shores, literally, in the form of the BP oil spill. Guess those limey gits are pretty slick when it comes to creating hazards. Making the messes go away is another matter (BP actually stands for Bloody Pillocks). They’ve tried the top hat and top kill techniques to stem the flow, but here are some of the other top proposals considered. Keep in mind this is a country that thinks listening to Coldplay and eating pickled herring for breakfast are good ideas.
The Four Tops: It’s time for BP to face the music and there’s no better way than with actual music. The company may not have a soul, but this quartet does. These do-woppers are about to turn do-gooders. They sung “Reach Out I’ll Be There” and over four decades later we’ll take them up on their generous offer. BP’s executives should take a lesson out of The Four Tops’ songbook and address their outspoken critics as “Sugar pie honey bunch,” since it’s difficult to remain furious after being flattered. A more direct approach involving musicians is to have the members of ZZ Top shave off their trademark beards and use the excess of facial hair to clog the leak. To get us out of trouble, the rockers must trim down to stubble.
Top Gun: The plan is to collect the millions of copies of the movie on VHS no longer being watched and take them right into the “Danger Zone.” If this maverick move isn’t made, men’s beach volleyball on the East Coast will disappear (leaving drunken frat boys little to do on spring break), while goose and other wildlife will continue to suffer worse than Kelly McGillis’ career (her last movie was called Supergator, though the spill could spawn a sequel).
The Iceman cometh to stop the spill
Top Ramen: There’s plenty of the cheapest food-like substance known to man — you could say we’ve got Oodles of Noodles lying around. It’s time to start ramming the Ramen down Deepwater Horizon, like we’re back in college and it’s 2 a.m. on a Thursday, and we’ve had a dozen Natty Lights. The product may be Asian in origin, but the solution is very American: we believe a heaping pile of salt improves everything. We can accept awful, unnatural things, so long as they’re covered in sodium (see: McDonald’s menu).
Topps baseball cards: Since we can’t stick Barry Bonds’ swollen head in the hole, we’re swinging for the fences with this suggestion, as we know there are many moms across the country eager to donate dusty and worthless stacks taking up prime attic space they want to use for the countless Chia Pets you bought for them, you cheap and ungrateful bastard. The Seattle Mariners will be in charge of arranging the cards, picked for the job partly because of their name and partly because no one will miss them if they fail to reemerge. Unopened packs are preferred, since the stale sticks of gum inside are among the sturdiest objects we could send underwater.
Top 40 Countdown fan mail: All the pointless, incoherent and instantly disposable letters from tweens begging to hear the latest equally pointless, incoherent singles from instantly disposable pop stars Casey Kasem received over the years finally have a purpose. Ball them up (sorry, Jackie in Topeka) and drop them in the water. Kasem always advised listeners to “keep your feet on the ground,” but we don’t think he’d want them stuck there due to stepping in tar balls. And like the rest of Kasem’s sign-off phrase, we’ll “keep reaching for the stars” because it’s the one place we have yet to pollute.
