Human tribal tattoo Guy Fieri is an enigma: a riddle wrapped in a puzzle with a pair of sunglasses on the back of his head. The frosted-tip maestro of eating things with bacon on it while the chef who cooked it watches in horror is back (did he ever even leave, though?) with a stunning new initiative -- throwing autographed Lean Cuisines at into crowds, pointing and calling his own shots like an Ed Hardy-bedazzled, bleached-blonde Babe Ruth.
There he is: the crown prince of Flavortown launching microwave dinners at the adoring public.
Or maybe it's the lead singer of Smash Mouth? I'm not sure, and there's not much context to be found here. But I think the important thing to remember is, at one point in history, people cheered both for Guy Fieri's presence -- plus the prospect of free Lean Cuisines with Fieri's signature on it -- and the pits of hell did not in fact open, and our world was not swallowed into a pit of brimstone and hell-fire. I don't know what this is supposed to mean. But it leaves me feeling cold, and worried about the future.