"Y'all black folk know howta swim? I fried up your life jackets yesterday!"
For anywhere from $1,700 to $6,800, you can watch Paula Deen critique another chef's cooking, watch her kids cook stuff, and join her for a Pajama Brunch. Go on, picture that. You're sailing the ocean blue with Paula Deen and you're both in your pajamas. She shifts in her seat, the air wafts up her pajama leg, and a sound like a distant foghorn chills you to the bone. That's one of the seven signs. Such a thing only exists in God's blind spot and will wither the healthy gonads of any under 65 who dare attend.
I find the fact that Paula Deen doesn't actually cook on the cruise kind of strange, like if you went to basketball camp hosted by Michael Jordan and all he did was put in a DVD of Blue Chips and maybe answer questions about his favorite mascots, but what do I know? Maybe the cruise is mostly centered on Deen making black guests wear tuxedos and look like Civil War-era servants. If anyone has attended, please let me know.