I’ve always said that my dream job is to be a television writer for some dumb, formulaic show on basic cable.
This is because I’m not only lazy, but I’m also intrigued by entertainment that wants to have it both ways: it wants to display violence in a gritty, realistic manner while simultaneously ignoring the consequences. An example is SEAL Team and SWAT.
I find these shows delightful: many people die, friends get killed or mangled, yet every episode ends with the cast laughing over drinks or in despair over a romantic relationship. It’s completely hypocritical, it wants to show real violence while also numbing us from the true horror of it all.
It’s hilarious.
But all of these programs have identical story beats: the team (SEAL or SWAT) causes disruption, a male lead is banging a female superior, the superior’s superior rips into her, the team is given an imperative to fix the issue, moral quandary ensues, some people die, the day is saved, the team slaps each other on the back, the female superior informs the male lead that their relationship can’t continue, male lead is sad, executive producer credit is shown. (Sometimes there’s a “B” story featuring a secondary character, but no one gives a shit)
These stories can be written sitting on the toilet. And I spend A LOT of time on the toilet.
I once knew a psychopath that loved saying “why do tomorrow what can be done today?”
Nah.
More like “why do today what can be done tomorrow?”
As my father always said: “if you want something done right, get someone else to do it.”
Allegedly William James said “act as if what you do makes a difference.” But the truth is you should “act as if what you do makes absolutely NO difference.” Because it doesn’t.
You’re only here for a small blip in humanity’s history. And humans will only be around for a very short time in comparison to the immensity of the universe. So don’t worry about it, nothing we do here matters 😎
Even the history books will return to dust.
“Falling down is an accident. Staying down is a choice.”
xXx is a film that came out 10 years too late. Bruce Willis would have fucking CRUSHED the role of Xander Cage.
Think about it: what if it xXx was directed by Renny Harlin or John McTiernan. Now those guys understand what action schlock is all about.
I don’t know why xXx sucks so much. Is it the script? The direction? Is it it’s leading actor?
Vin Diesel is proof that just because you look the part, doesn’t mean that you can play the part. Honestly, he is quietly one of the worst action stars I’ve ever seen. And it’s difficult to pinpoint why that is.
Is it because he’s not traditionally “good looking”? There are plenty of action stars that aren’t considered “good looking.”
Is it because he can’t act? To be a Hollywood leading man, having the ability to “act” is surprisingly low on the must-have list.
Is it because he doesn’t have a sense of humor? I think there’s something to this. I mean, Vin Diesel does have a sense of humor, but the joke is always on someone else and never on the absurdity of his character or the situation he’s in.
Being the butt of a joke is for other characters. Not for him.
Some action stars can get away with this. Steven Seagal for example. But the thing is that Seagal lacks the awareness to understand that he is the joke. Diesel is too smart for that.
So in xXx, Diesel comes across as a fucking asshole that I’m constantly rooting against.
So I was eating a bag of skittles when the phone rang.
“What do you want?” I asked.
The woman over the phone spoke. “Hi, this is Arianna. We talked last week. Just want to know that I’ve been fantasizing about you. I’m really, REALLY horny. I want to come over, sit you down, take you in my mouth then ride you as you slide in and out. I want to taste you. I want to feel you inside me. Just the thought of your cock makes me quiver with excitement. Please let me come over. Please PLEASE have your way with me.”
WhiteCollar inspired me to come up with my own totally non-offensive crime procedural.
So Hollywood, if you’re reading, I present to you Fisher: Miami Cop, starring Rob Gronkowski as the Hawaiian shirt wearing, vaguely racist homicide detective with a penchant for hard drinking and always shooting first.
After coming off his suspension for domestic abuse and vehicular manslaughter, Fisher is given a partner: the saucy Latina Arianda Morales.
“But Chief,” Fisher says, “I don’t work with the Cubans OR the Chinese.”
But he quickly changes his mind when he sees that she’s hot.
Fisher and Morales come to a greater understanding of each other and their cultural differences. Every episode ends in playful banter, culminating in Fisher’s famous catchphrase: “get off my ass, bitch!”
Are some shows made to be played in the background while you do more important things?
The answer is yes.
White Collar is probably my favorite in this genre. I might’ve seen every episode. And I have no idea what it’s about…Two closeted FBI agents-one in a homosexual relationship with a conspiracy theorist, the other married to Kelly Kapowski-who conceal their feelings for one another which leads to palpable sexual tension as they investigate white collar crimes? 🤷♂️
If so, then the subject matter was ahead of its time.
Anyways, it’s a pretty inoffensive show. No nudity, no blood, few cuss words. Nothing grabs your attention. I put it up there with JAG, NCIS, And Matlock. It’s a good show to distract grandma from her impending death (despite the gay overtones).
I think it’s important that a brand represents its customers. Sure I’m a hack that’s scamming you by selling a completely unnecessary and stupid product, but I do so out of care and concern for your representation.
That’s why I developed Just Fckn Coffee!
No more of that liberal bullshit from Seattle called “Starbucks”. And none of that right-wing authoritarian crap from “Black Rifle Coffee”. I want to appeal to those who feel nothing, whose lives are as empty as their bank account.
Just Fckn Coffee! will give you the jolt you need to make it through one more day. Because life is hard. And there is no hope.
So next time you’re feeling numb from the overwhelming dread that is modern life, pour yourself a cup of Just Fckn Coffee!
Some jackass was pounding on my door at 10:30 in the morning. I opened up and a man stuck out his hand.
“I’m Gay,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Gayson Peters. I’m your new neighbor across the street.”
He was wearing an orange button up with khaki cargos and socks pulled all the way up to his knees.
“What do you want from me?” I asked. “Some money?”
“No. I’m inviting you to a barbecue that I’m having this afternoon.”
“Eh, I’m hungover,” I said. “Can’t make it”
“That’s okay, I’ll be serving free alcohol. Just come over and get drunk again.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I threw on a clean pair of pants (no underwear) and flipped my shirt inside out. I grabbed a bag of pretzels so that I didn’t look like a complete asshole for not bringing anything.
When I arrived, my new neighbor handed me a plate. “No thank you, Gayson,” I said, “I’m just here for the booze.”
“Please, call me Gay.”
I got really drunk. As I was hanging out in the backyard trying not to barf, a woman tapped me on the shoulder.
“Got a light sweetheart?” she asked.
I handed her my lighter. She was about 50 something. Blond hair. Definitely had a smoker’s voice.
“Have you known Gay for long?” she asked.
“Since this morning.”
“I’m his mom.”
“Excuse me,” I said.
I walked up to the hot tub and barfed my guts out. When I finished, I walked back to her.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “So you’re Gay’s mom. What’s that like?”
“He’s an asshole,” she replied. “Got any kids?”
“Probably.”
“How old are you?”
“I dunno. Somewhere between 28 and 74.”
She took one last drag from her cigarette then flicked it away. “Well this party is pretty lame,” she said. “Why don’t you come on over to my place and have some drinks? My name’s Lucinda.”
“Sure thing, Lucinda.”
Her apartment was a converted storage unit. It was littered with old Penthouse mags, newspapers, and an endless supply of glue. She stepped out of the shower and walked into the kitchen. In fact, the shower was in the kitchen.
“Sorry that my tits are flopping out,” Lucinda said. “I have no clean towels.”
“That’s okay. I haven’t had an erection in years. Too much prescription meds and internet pornography.”
She seemed to blow a sigh of relief. “Thank god,” she said. “I can’t have sex. Vag is all dried up.”
I poured a drink and raised a toast. “To my dead ass dick!” I said.
We sat down on the couch and I began flipping through the channels.
“Sorry,” Lucinda said. “But the only thing this TV picks up is Designing Women.”
I turned my head and looked deep into her eyes. “I love Designing Women,” I said.
There was some energy between us. We shared a moment.
When Major Dad came on, I had to take a shit. “Do you need any toilet paper?” she asked.
“Nope. Never used it.”
As I blew up the toilet behind paper thin walls, I though that I could spend the rest of my life with this woman.
“I clogged the toilet,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. It ain’t going nowhere.”
I sat back down on the couch. As we laughed at Gerald McRaney’s shenanigans, I reached out to hold her hand. She rested her head on my shoulder. Then she let out the most disgusting fart.
So my wife got disturbed at the actor who plays Blippi, a YouTube character for kids.
“What? Did he do gay porn? Every guy has done gay porn (not me of course, I’ve never had sex),” I asked my wife.
“No. I don’t want to say. Just google it.”
So I did.
And I was glad I did. Because apparently the actor once played another character called “steezy grossman” where he made gross out videos. In one such video, he poops all over his friend.
“But it makes sense for him to poop on his friend,” I told my wife. “According to Wikipedia, the character was born as poop because his parents had anal sex. Don’t you understand art? Idiot.”
Apparently parents were pissed off about this. I don’t see what the problem is.
Has everyone forgotten about Jackass?
A dude goes into a hardware store and shits in a display toilet. It was hilarious. And if that dude started a children’s show on YouTube nowadays, no one would bat an eye!
I applaud Blippi (whatever the actor’s name). My son loves the guy. He’s got versatility.
He’s got skill, talent, a natural performer. None of us have the balls to do what he did (and does).
The Internet Ruined Everything 