Imagine sitting down in a candle lit room where the only light is from a small, dull window set on the very top of the wall.
You sit there writing notes and a man comes in picks you by the tuft of your hair and drags you, by your head, as you scream in utter misery.
A gut-wrenching feeling comes acroos your heart wiping away anything that makes you humane. Your stomach sinks into a pit.
You scream in agony as more men come and spread you're arms onto a cross. You scream in even more agony uttering the pain that echoes through the land as they nail you're whole body to a cross.
I still don't understand what this has to do with Jerry Springer.