Dear Mr. Fieri,

My name is Arthur Handler and I am the policy representative for your health insurance. I am a big fan of your show and appreciate how hard you work every single day showing America all the great Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives across this great country. That is why it is with a heavy heart that I have to inform you that we are no longer able to insure you.

The results of your latest physical were sent to us as per the details of your policy. Your blood pressure, cholesterol, and over all health is beyond what we feel is reasonable for a man of your age. Simply put Mr. Fieri you are going to die, soon. For that reason we feel that offering you a policy is a waste of our time and money.

All the best in your (brief) future.

 


Hey Bro,

Look here man. You can’t cancel my plan you pencil pushing BUTT LICK. I have to eat in order to do my job. You think I like eating this shit? It’s been six years since I have had a day without eating something drowning in chili or slathered in aioli. Bro, I hate it. But I gots to keep eating. Don’t cancel my plan. I’m not a bad dude. I have given the world so much. Is the world a better place because I created doughnuts stuffed with pork and wasabi and ginger and then deep fried and covered in mole’ sauce and coleslaw? You better believe it brother.

Guy knows he isn’t doing too well. In all honesty Guy doesn’t feel great. My man, I eat prilosex like tick tacks and it don’t do shit. My asshole is basically one giant hemorrhoid that spits out soft serve every two hours on the dot. I’m like a shitty, smelly old faithful. I sweat when I sleep, man. And you better believe Guy sleeps in the buff bro. When I go to bed I’m covered with my awesome ink and the smell of carnitas and butter cream that is constantly pouring out of me. HELP ME BRO, I’M REAL SICK.

I tried to tell my masters at Food Network but they say if I stop they are going to hurt my wife. They got her locked up somewhere man, they won’t tell me where. They promised if I keep working eventually I will get to see her again. I would love to get better. I want to feel better. BUT I HAVE TO EAT. I can’t even tell the difference between a kicken jerk chicken buffalo slider and a four alarm fire cracker salmon calzone. This stuff isn’t even food. It’s just words thrown together so that it sounds like something. It’s all my fault. I did this. I know. I’m sorry. All these food truck and cupcakes stores are my fault. There is blood and ranch with bacon bits all over my hands.

Sometimes I call Adam Richman that dude from Man Vs. Food and we just cry to each other. His masters at the Travel channel finally let him stop eating but only because he has a year left to live. He’s not sure what it is that is killing him he just knows he’s going to the big diner in the sky pretty soon. I tried to talk to my overlords but they say there is no stopping for Guy. Every person you see on tv eating food is sick beyond words bro. We are killing ourselves so you people have something to watch on Sunday afternoons while you think about doing the dishes.

Did you know there have been three Anthony Bourdains? It’s true. The guy that wrote Kitchen Confidential (was it good? I don’t read anything that ain’t a menu) died in Laos in 2002. The second Bourdain had an allergic reaction to seared boar rectum in 2005, swelled up and has been calling himself Andrew Zimmerman ever since. Tony 3.0 is currently in a health and wellness facility in Sedona trying to get right with his God. There is talk of a Tony 4.0 debuting with his new CNN show. AND FOR WHAT? FOR YOU MONSTERS. YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM.

Look man. I know this shit aint right but America demands we eat for them. My colon is on the verge of exploding so they can see me flip my oakley sunglasses down and say “this is the bomb-a-lomb diggity dawg” every time I eat some jackass’ shit attempt at asian/texas/soul/french/nose/tail fusion food.

Buddy, do me a favor. I am too far gone but there still is time for the others. Let your friends know to stop watching people go around the world and eat food. It has to end. We never show you how to make the stuff. You don’t learn anything. It’s just some ass suffering from gout looking into the camera and going “yum yum, bro”. You can stop this if you want. You can help me live and save my wife from being forced to prepare meals for Rachel Ray.