I know a lot of you think of me as a fat, boorish tub of crap who has no respect for the finer things in life, because he's too busy scratching his red, rashy ass and chasing the next hot piece of poon-tang. Well, my ass rash has cleared up, thankyouverymuch... and as for my lack of respect in the area of "fine arts," I only have one thing to say: "Gimmee dat poon-tang, baby! Yah, Mommy, YAH!"
C'mon! I'm kidding! But seriously, I have found it necessary to feign interest in the finer things in order to score some of the poon-tang I so richly appreciate and deserve. My latest fine-arts obsession? BALLROOM DANCING! I love the stuff! All those sexy moves, the hot instructors, and sissy clothes? It's a perfect mix of beauty, grace, and groinal massage.
That's why I've flipped head-over-tuckus for the new reality show Dancing with the Stars (ABC, Wednesdays, 9 pm). It's dumb, ridiculous, and makes absolutely no sense—and yet, this show makes me so wet in the swimsuit area, I consistently slip out of my La-Z-Boy!
Based on the weirdly titled British series Strictly Come Dancing, this ABC summer variety show features ballroom-style dancing as performed by an array of uncoordinated B-class celebrity has-beens, such as Bachelorette Trista Sutter, former supermodel Rachel Hunter, soap star Kelly Monaco, boxer Evander Holyfield, Seinfeld costar John O'Hurley, and... omigod, omigod, omigod... Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block! EEEEEEEEEEE! I don't care if he is 45 years old, I'm-a gonna grab that ass!
Anyway, these celebs are paired up with ballroom professionals, and together they train to perform and compete against the other teams on live television. The result? HILARITY! While the performances are never completely humiliating, watching the hulking Evander Holyfield trying to master the extremely complicated fox trot or quickstep is like witnessing a rhino with multiple sclerosis ice skating—simultaneously side-splitting and heartbreaking.
Even better, the couples are criticized by a trio of American Idolesque judges who are gayer than Gaylord McFaggerson, the head baton twirler of San Francisco's All-Homo Marching Majorettes. My fave is judge Bruno Tonioli—don't you love that name?—a dandyish fop and expert choreographer who was featured in Elton John's "I'm Still Standing" video (Helloooo, Gaylord!). On Dancing with the Stars, Bruno's job is to whip his hands around in the air and screech about how Rachel Hunter has all the personality of brown wallpaper.
The dancing, the humiliation, the hard work... As it stands, there's no reason for these celebrities to actually enjoy being on this show. And yet they do—especially my favorite wash-up, Joey McIntyre, who seems to revel in learning the complicated steps, wearing those poofy shirts, and sporting a pencil-thin pervert mustache. Even weirder, now that the show has grown into an addiction for both the contestants and the audience, for some inexplicable reason I suddenly give a shit about whether or not Evander nails that samba!
I guess it all goes to prove my original point: I really do care about the finer things in life. Now give me that poon-tang!
