Showing posts with label TV Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV Reviews. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Less to Like

I've always hated romance reality shows. They're fake: like a whole bunch of attractive, successful young people ran to TV to find a mate rather than a job in entertainment. They're offensive, with dudes proposing left and right to chicks they've just met while gay couples that have been together fifty years can't get hitched.

Mostly, though, they're just way too white for me. Sure, occasionally they throw in a minority group, but those folks are long gone by the time the final rose or ring or room key is passed out.

I'm not crazy about idiot whites ruling the world, so I definitely don't want to see them reproducing on my TV. I don't care. I don't identify. Like I'm going to sit on the edge of my couch shoving popcorn into my gob and wiping away tears, thinking, "Oh, thank God the skinny white bitch with the Botox and the lizard-skin Stetson finally hooked up with the overgrown frat boy with the spray-on tan who still brings his laundry home to mom." Fifty percent of all black teens are unemployed but I'm supposed to tune in every week and root for some dude who probably has his anus bleached?

These folks aren't ready to dress themselves, let alone settle down.

More to Love promised to change the equation, putting fatties on both sides of the fence. Oddly, this doesn't change the dynamic for the dude. Luke is a 26-year-old "real estate developer." He's loud, he's brash, he's overconfident. He knows that fat guys aren't stigmatized like fat women. It's beer behind his bulk, not cake. And as usual he has to pretend to like all the women, which in my book is called "stringing them along."

The women, though, are creatures we've never seen on TV. They aren't overprivileged. In fact, they'd been through hell. They've been rejected all their lives for being fat. They've never had boyfriends. They've built up walls around themselves, given up the thought of coupling, refusing to get hurt any more.

They're attractive, they're successful, and they cry every time they open their mouths.

And now, finally, they've found a guy where their weight doesn't matter. Who would have guessed he'd exist? He's perfect! Prince Charming! So what if he doesn't have a personality! While all the skinny white bitches want hunky guys who are taller than them and have perfect teeth and a BMW 320i, all these women want is a guy who doesn't run away screaming when he sees them in a swimsuit. And if the guy doesn't care that they're fat, the only barrier between them and happiness is gone.

Almost immediately, they fall in love with Luke. And shortly thereafter, they're kicked off. Nineteen of them, one by one.

Adios, sweet chub! Yup, this is what love is all about. Take comfort in knowing that this time you're not being rejected because you're overweight.

It's because your personality sucks.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

There are two types of bloggers in the world: those sad folks who flog away futilely in the vain hope of reaching some nonexistent audience, and those with a large, faithful following who get invited to fabulous parties where they hobnob with the stars of upcoming TV shows, eat and drink for free, and take home goody bags stuffed with t-shirts, DVDs, memory sticks and even food.

Luckily I know somebody who's got a good blog.

I'll admit straightaway that these parties definitely buy me off. They won't make me lie and say a lousy TV show is good -- it takes tropical vacations or cars to do that -- but they'll definitely make me think twice about posting something negative.

So, last night I went to a party for Michael and Michael Have Issues, a new Comedy Central show debuting tomorrow night. I'd never heard of Michael Ian Black or Michael Showalter, but now I'm a fan. The show is 30 Rockish, about two guys who write and star in a TV show, with some of Seinfeld's nothingness and random humorous interludes. The debut episode has definite gay interest with a clueless teen playing cub to a tank-topped bear, but there's more than enough fully-clothed entertainment to make my list of must-sees.

And really, you know, you can believe me.

I'm the guy who didn't tell you about Kröd Mändoon.

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