My Dinner With Rinaldi

Tom Rinaldi has been a reporter for ESPN since who the fuck knows when.  He always seems to show up wherever bad shit is going down.  Seriously, he is EVERYWHERE.  And yet he managed to find a few minutes to sit down with yours truly for the first ACEterview in a long time.  Enjoy it now because shit's about to get weird...

G$: Thanks for agreeing to do this, Tom.  You are easily the third best fake interview that The Money Shot has ever done.

TR: Indeed, you should be honored.  Like I once told Tiger Woods, "nothing beats eating out at a Perkins".
G$: Hmmmm, interesting and bizarre analogy.  Anyway, how did you get started as a broadcast journalist?

TR: It's actually a warm and wonderful story that has entertained many at country club soirees that I so often attend.  I was a small-timer, fresh out of college, trying to find my way in this tough business of reporting.  I was the beat reporter for the Colts at the time for Central Indiana Queertarly.  I was just meandering around Indianapolis one afternoon trolling for ass and it dawned on me.  Now, this was the year that the Colts got to 14-0, remember?
G$: I do.  Dungy totally fucked that up.

TR: Did he?  Like I said, I was trolling for ass when I stumbled upon this lovely mulatto boy, couldn't have been more than 16-17 years old.  Boy, did we rearrange each other's large intestines that night!  Heck, for the next three months we were both pretty much living inside each other!  The passion was too intense.  I often found myself so spent that I couldn't move.  I gained sustenance by drinking his post-coital sweat.  Eventually, I found out about his family and who his parents were...
G$: Wait a minute--you were fucking James Dungy?!?!
TR: Yes.  And that is how I got my big break.  I knew that he was falling in love with the taste of my chest hair but I also understood that if I could have a hand in derailing a potential perfect season and be the first on the scene, I would have made it.  So I cut off all communique with the young, caramel scamp, broke his heart, and--boom--two weeks later he's swinging from a ceiling fan.  And guess who was hired by ESPN shortly after covering the shit out of the gay suicide and ruined season?  THIS GUY!

G$: Holy shit.  That is awful.  How can you live with--

TR: But that wasn't my first dalliance with underage boy butt.  You know how everyone thinks it's funny that Jerry Sandusky keeps claiming his innocence and that he never did anything with those boys?  He's right.  Trust me, he's 100% innocent.  That was all me.
G$: Wait a minute, Tom, this is starting to get very absurd very quickly.  You're telling me that YOU, not Sandusky, banged all of those little black boys all those years ago?
TR: Precisely.  I initially thought that THIS story would make me famous but for some strange reason, those poor little shits kept their mouths shut for the longest time.  I had no real reason to ruin the Penn State program but I was bored so I did it.  I spent six months crafting the perfect Sandusky disguise.  I mean, it was flawless...even down to the wrinkly scrotum!  And then I would lure loser kids to the showers and play "hide the salami".  Boy, did they hate that game!
G$: I am speechless.

TR: Oh, you should have been there when I let McQueery catch me in the act!  His eyes were as big as the moon yet you could see there was some intrigue in what he was watching.  Like he almost wanted to join.  But as soon as Mike and I locked eyes, I made some homemade vanilla yogurt for the kid and Big Red left.  I mean, this went on for a long time.  I couldn't believe the secrecy around that program.  Eventually, I got tired of fucking kids so I left.  I figured that Jerry could handle any potential fallout and I would come swooping in with my camera crew to ruin even more lives at a later date.  It was the perfect crime.  Like I said, I didn't think that it would take so long to become public, but whatever, at least I got my rocks off.

G$: That is some fucked up shit.  How do you sleep at night?

TR: Most recently, I was trying to spice up the Packers run at a repeat Super Bowl after their loss to Kansas City.  With no undefeated season to strive for, they had to have some sort of motivator and so did we the media.  So I figured that I'd give that Philbin kid the same handbook that I gave to ol' Jimmy Dungy.  He wasn't buying though.  It's much harder to trick white kids into bed, you see.  I started getting impatient with him since he wouldn't let me suck his crank so one night I just decided to drown him in some bumfuck river and set him adrift.  Whatever.  He might still be alive if he just agreed to ride the Rinaldi Express.  It's not my fault that the Packers lost last week.  I gave them something to play for.
G$: You are the worst person that I've ever met and that includes Michael Lawrence Parrish.  I still don't understand why you did any of this?  Once you got hired by ESPN, what more is there?  Good Morning America?  The Evening News?  What were you hoping to accomplish by being the face in front of the camera at all of these tragedies?

TR: Ha, what is my last name?
G$: Rinaldi.  So what?
TR: Rinaldi indeed.  I may look like a mild-mannered pretty boy, but underneath this ravishing comb-over haircut is a JUICED-UP GORILLA just waiting to come out and SMUSH!
G$: Wait, what?  You did all of this in hopes that one day you would be on Jersey Shore?
TR: TAXIS HAVE ARRIVED!
G$: No, no, no...this is not right.  This can't be true.
TR: Why not?  Vinny's gone.  They need a replacement to pump fists (Rinaldi does some sort of wounded version of The Chicken Dance instead)!  I would be perfect for that!  I feel like my entire career has been leading to this moment, when I can move into the Shore House in Seaside, baby!  WHO WANTS SOME TOM-TOM JUICE?

G$: Why the fuck are you telling me all of this anyway?  You know that I'm going straight to the police, don't you?  I'm gonna narc you out!  You are a pedophile, a rapist, a fraud, apparently a reality TV whore wannabe, AND a serial killer!
(Tom hands me a meatball sandwich and $100 which I accept)
G$: Thanks?

TR: No problem.  By accepting that food and money, you just agreed to be my lawyer!  Attorney-Client Privilege, bitch!  You're in Rinaldi's pocket now!  You want to go down to the Boardwalk and ride the ferris wheel?
G$: You diabolical bastard.  Damn you, Rinaldi.  Damn you straight to Hell.  I'm leaving.  This is too dark...even for me.  This was the worst fake interview of my life.
TR: From The Money Shot, I'm Tom Rinaldi, ESPN.