Terry Fator is a Dickwad
I shouldn't be as surprised as I am, but I am, and I'm halfway to pissed off that I am surprised, and the other halfway disappointed that I got swindled again.
Terry Fator, apparently talented, apparently nice guy, ventriloquist/impersonator, winner of America's Got Talent, is divorcing his wife of 20 years and hooking up with his 20 year old ex-assistant. Who is a fucking airhead if she believes that it's no big deal.
Oh like that never happens. I know. But I was so sure that this guy was real enough that Vegas wouldn't change him. Silly me.
Well, now I'm no longer saying what a nice genuine guy he is when people call to buy his tickets. He's yet another "I'm so famous I can ditch the woman who supported my dream for two decades and get me a trophy wife young enough to be my daughter" lying asshole.
Way to go, Sparky. I hope your show folds before Criss Angel's does. And I hope your wife takes you to the fucking cleaners and leaves you nothing but a trunk full of puppets and a vapid girlfriend who will bail the moment the money runs out. Hope you enjoy playing dinner clubs in Florida.
And Ronn Lucas's cardboard-and-sock puppet turtle ("My name is... George. I am...a... tuuuuuuuuur...tle.") is far more entertaining than your stuffed animal with a hole up its ass. Believe it.
Terry Fator, apparently talented, apparently nice guy, ventriloquist/impersonator, winner of America's Got Talent, is divorcing his wife of 20 years and hooking up with his 20 year old ex-assistant. Who is a fucking airhead if she believes that it's no big deal.
Oh like that never happens. I know. But I was so sure that this guy was real enough that Vegas wouldn't change him. Silly me.
Well, now I'm no longer saying what a nice genuine guy he is when people call to buy his tickets. He's yet another "I'm so famous I can ditch the woman who supported my dream for two decades and get me a trophy wife young enough to be my daughter" lying asshole.
Way to go, Sparky. I hope your show folds before Criss Angel's does. And I hope your wife takes you to the fucking cleaners and leaves you nothing but a trunk full of puppets and a vapid girlfriend who will bail the moment the money runs out. Hope you enjoy playing dinner clubs in Florida.
And Ronn Lucas's cardboard-and-sock puppet turtle ("My name is... George. I am...a... tuuuuuuuuur...tle.") is far more entertaining than your stuffed animal with a hole up its ass. Believe it.