Somewhere there's a little-seen version of the Bible that translates the prophecies of Revelation 6 not as horseman with sackcloth and blood but as a millionaire douchebag in Oakley shades and a multi-colored goatee making 250 servings of gastroenteritis in a garbage can.
While critics both professional and amateur have savaged the restaurant equivalent of that cavernous "Sportatorium"-type venue on the edge of town that still books Sammy Hagar -- the monstrous monument to all things Guy in the middle of Manhattan -- it turns out that Fieri is of course having the last laugh. Because this is America. And we fucking suck.
This is the most insane fucking thing you will read today. Can we please declare war on Flavortown?
Remember a couple of years back when a former producer of Fieri's accused him of being virulently homophobic? That's all starting to make sense now.