So You Think You Can Prez
The Reality TV Competition For Billionaires Who Think They’ve Got What It Takes To Run The Country
Attention, Mr. Billionaire. First off, congrats on being hella-rich! Kudos on your mad cash-hoarding skills, and keep on eating those truffles, broseph.
There is one tiny little thing, though. We’re going to need you to stop trying to be the POTUS simply because you can afford to run and are surrounded by sycophants who tell you it’s a great idea.
Spoiler: It’s maybe not a great idea.
But who are we to say? This is America; important decisions should be made by a television audience, not ordinary citizens. So in the spirit of Simon Cowell’s resting bitch face, we’ve come up with a pre-presidential competition for all of you I’m-just-patriotic-AF billionaires.
So without further ado, we give you:
SO YOU THINK YOU CAN PREZ, the ultra-exciting reality TV competition for billionaires who want to literally rule the world! Whoo-hoo; balloons and confetti and all that!
The show will consist of four main events:
THE POP CULTURE TEST. In order to move on in the competition, the billionaire must be able to identify well-known rappers, celebrities, athletes, TV references, current slang, fast food slogans (of chains they do not own), dances, viral memes, etc.
If the gentledude cannot properly answer at least 80% of the questions on this exam he will be disqualified, as he is far too out-of-touch with the commoners to even attempt to represent them.
**Should he dare to “dab” because he’s seen the youths do it, he will immediately fall down the stage trap door and a pack of wild dogs will eat off his face.**
ACTS OF PHYSICAL GLORY. This event is the billionaire’s chance to shine, to show he is more than just a moneyed robot whose un-oiled joints are incapable of normal human movement.
The contestant will choose his Act of Physical Glory, which can be any performance that showcases him being physical while wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves hacked off.
Some examples: He can choreograph a dance number similar to one of the breakin’-and-poppin’ routines rocked by ‘N’Sync. He can throw axes or break bricks with his hands. He can rotate the tires on a truck or perform a gymnastics floor routine.
The goal of this round is basically just to highlight the fact that even though he sleeps on piles of doubloons, the billionaire still knows how to use his limbs and has functioning sweat glands.
If said contestant cannot perform a glorious physical act or produce sweat, he will be disqualified.
RACE OF THE NORMAL PEOPLE. In this timed event, the billionaire must a. Shop for a week’s worth of groceries with a $50 gift card (3 meals/day for a family of 4), b. Shovel a driveway and mow a lawn, c. Change a flat tire and jump start a car that has a dead battery, and d. Choose a healthcare plan for an average family that won’t bankrupt them. (Hint: this event is nearly-impossible; good luck, Daddy Warbucks!)
If the billionaire fails to complete these tasks in the time allotted, he will be — you guessed it — disqualified.
Now, it’s virtually impossible to imagine any billionaire could make it this far in the competition, but if he should, he will move on to the final event.
THE AIRING OF LOW POINTS. In this event, a one-minute timer will be set, and the billionaire must shout out, as fast as he can, the lowest, darkest moments of his life.
For example: (shouted quickly) The time I lost my Amex black card at Cannes! The day my nanny told me no! That girl in college who wouldn’t go out with me even though she drove a Honda! I mean what the hell, right? She drove a GD Honda! When my grandma died! When my dad said I wasn’t the best polo player! That time I got grounded from my dinghy!
At the same time, a random audience member will be completing the identical activity in a separate room, airing their own personal low points. The audience will then vote — by hurling tomatoes and obscenities — to decide which person’s “airing” is more worthy of their empathy.
Maybe this show isn’t the answer, but at least this way, a billionaire would have to do something to get his name on the ticket. You know, something other than sitting on a pile of Benjamins while giving the slow nod like he’s DJ Kahled.
It’s either this, or maybe we could require he win a hot dog eating contest against that weenie-gorging world champion, Joey Chestnut. After all, hot dogs are considered super American, as are competition and overindulgence, so…
