Now I could be wrong, but wasn't TV invented to take us away from the mindless tedium of reality? And even worse, why is it that the supposed "reality" depicted in these shows is so much more BORING than my actual life? Take today for instance: The day has barely started and already a dog crapped on my foot, I French-kissed a meter maid, my honey-baked ham got wolf whistles from a construction crew ("Whooo! That must be jelly, 'cause jam don't shake like that!"), I arm-wrestled a third grader for his chocolate-milk money, I polished off a bottle of Sour Apple Pucker, and I kicked a hippie in the nuts. And it's not even lunch yet!
Think about it! In shows like Big Brother and Survivor, what are they actually doing to entertain us? WELL, I WILL TELL YOU! They're sitting around on their big-and-juicies, shoving Cheetos into their fat faces, and making inane banter like, "Oh, Jordan... everyone hates me. They're going to kick me off the show!" "No, Georgie, no! They hate me! They're going to kick me off the show!" "Please! They hate me more than they hate you! I'm going to be kicked off the show!" "Well, if they kick you off the show, they'll surely kick me off the show." "Oh, they can't kick you off the show! I'd rather have them kick me off the show!"
AUGGGGGHHHHHHHH! SHUT THE FAWK UP!!! If there's any kicking to be done, it's gonna be by ME and the pointiest shoe I can find! As of NOW, I am officially done with reality, and have decided to start supporting the most unrealistic television I can find! Like the WWF for example. There's nothing more satisfying than watching a 300-pound beefcake in bikini briefs jumping from a ladder 20 feet in the air and landing on somebody else's nutsack--and then seeing the guy with the cracked nuts get up and win!
And speaking of advanced homoerotica, The Nashville Network (TNN) is now showing old episodes of Starsky & Hutch (Wed-Fri, noon and 6 pm). This is a completely unbelievable show about two cops who barely have time to grab crooks, because they're too busy grabbing each other (trust me, they don't call their informant "Huggy Bear" for nothing--Wink! Wink!).
Now, I know I'm just as guilty as the next obsessed TV reporter for devoting entire columns to these reality shows, but with God as my witness, this vicious cycle will stop HERE! I will now make a solemn vow: If I ever even mention any of these so-called reality shows again, you can personally drop my naked body in a tub of fruit cocktail and kiss me until I come to my senses. Big Brother, Big Brother, Big Brother. Ooops! I did it again!
