WHAT ELSE CAN I PUT BACON ON

You know what, I think tonight I'm just going to walk out there, fry up two, maybe three pounds of bacon, drizzle some butter over it and just start flinging fistfuls of it into the audience.  Hell, I'll throw a handful of chocolate chips on the pile too, then I'll drizzle it with melted butter.  Does that sound like something you'd want to shove in your fat, greedy faces?  What's that?  Oh sure, I'll deep-fry some foie gras and slap that in the mix too.  "No such thing as too much of a good thing!" right, TV fans?  My god-damned producers came up with that hateful slogan.  I hate it.  I hate all of you.  I hate this.  I'm only, you know.  A classically trained chef.  I spent thirteen years traveling Europe, learning the craft from true culinary masters in France, Italy, Spain.  But what do you want?  What gets your motor revving?  Excess.  Excessive displays of culinary masturbation.  I screw up once, I end up candying some bacon and putting it on pancakes and all of a sudden I'm "America's hottest new food queen."  "Food queen," that's pathetic.  I wanted to be a chef, damn it all; and now all I do is find new ways to add bacon to things, or dip things in cheese.  Yes, it made me rich and I took the money, every greasy penny you pushed into my hands with your own obese paws.  And now I'm going to deep-fry a pile of bacon and dip it in dulce de leche or something, and I hope it gives you all diabetes and kills you.