I feel sorry for Nick Lachey. There I said it. When he married Jessica Simpson he expected to get a wife with an incredible body and unbelievable procreation experiences. And that, my friends is exactly what he got; nothing less but certainly nothing more. No pleasant surprises such as a digestible conversation or witty sense of the obvious. Instead he got “is this chicken or tuna.” When he married Jessica I am sure he said to himself, “she’ll get smarter. It just has to happen.” Wrongo bucko! She is as dumb as the concept that the physical aspects will make the mental torment all worth while. But there is a silver lining. He has the knowledge now to make better decisions. And in that is where my multimillion dollar idea came from. Nick could tour the country giving advice to men about to marry woman with the IQs of Lamp shades on a TV show I have lovingly titled “Nick Lachey’s Shallow Marriage hour”. It has the two main things that America loves; hot women who will easily be convinced to get into a bathing suit for a camera and people making fools of themselves. There will be such memorable phrases as “why do they call it bowling when there aren’t any bowls” and “I am not an idiot. I nearly went to college!” The money would role in and Nick would be able to gain something that goes beyond his honeymoon memories from this botched marriage: the satisfaction of knowing that he will most likely make the same mistake again.