Marguerite Perrin, the self proclaimed “God Warrior
” who earned a peculiar kind of notoriety with her deranged evangelical ranting on Fox’s Trading Spouses, has just released a rap CD.
None of the four horsemen would comment on the record, but sources close to the quartet confirm that they have, in fact, been saddled up and ready to go for some time, and are merely awaiting “the call.”
As I was flipping in and out of the big awards last night, I found myself chuckling heartily at Jon Stewart, while the crowd in the theater was giggling halfheartedly at best. It led me to believe that Stewart would be getting much bigger laughs if the audience didn’t take itself so seriously. Lo and behold, MSNBC agrees with me.
I am a gee-nee-us.
Fire up your TiVos, kiddies. An iNDEMAND cable TV special on April 24th is planning a séance that will attempt to contact John Lennon’s ghost. They plan on soliciting the deceased Beatle to channel them lyrics for a new song, which they will then have produced.
If this works, I suggest that they next try to contact Keven Federline’s talent. Or Tara Reid’s acting ability. Or Paris Hilton’s brain.
Wait, these are things that never existed.
It turns out that Isaac Hayes probably didn’t quit South Park. Instead, his church quit for him.
Curiouser and curiouser.
In every city where tryouts are held, American Idol attracts upwards of 10,000 aspiring one (or fewer) hit wonders. (Justin who?) Obviously, Dawg Man, Drunky McSlurs-a-Lot and Sir Nastypants can’t personally audition that many wannabees in a few days. There has to be some sort of preliminary screening process, where someone decides who goes before the Three Douchketeers and, not incidentally, the largest viewing audience of any current show. Someone’s job is to eliminate the middling talents, and thresh out the most dynamic and the most awful/deluded/mentally disabled contestants to go before the cameras.
Can you imagine a more horrible thing to hear from a network TV flunky? “Yeah, you’ve got a nice voice, but you’re not really great. And unfortunately, you don’t look like an escaped mental patient or sound like an alley cat being stuffed headfirst into an accordion, so you don’t get to meet the snarky Brit, the 80s pop star, or the former bass player for Journey.”
I fear for the human race.
It’s August, and that means many things. Back to school season has begun, summer is heating up and winding down simultaneously, the frantic end-of-summer romances are burning and fizzling, and Waldorf Van Buren looks forward to the Fall Television Season.
I’m terribly bitter about television shows being axed and ground off the air by merciless executives with no compassion or TASTE. Every year I shed a tear when Fox allows chum like American Idol to grease the screens but nixes quality shows like Firefly. (Yes, I’m still horribly bitter about the Firefly cancellation). So, I’m not going to get involved too much with anything this season; not going to get hooked by anything that the networks might tempt me with. Instead, I will simply discard everything before I’ve even watched a single episode.
Today, I will deal with the Monday prime time lineup.
Television doesn’t return the love I’m giving it. Yes, it’s tough love, but it would still be nice for TV to give in and grant me a little love. It doesn’t look like Tuesday night will be the night d’amour. No, it will be, in my opinion (which you should view as having the strength of supported fact), just another torrent of shit in an otherwise staticky world.
I’ll begin with a second word about Monday night - sucks. Okay, that out of the way, I’d also like to reconsider Samantha Who? Perhaps I was a little harsh, I’ll give it a second chance, if only that I genuinely like Christina Applegate without ever having met her. I’m not even three degrees of Kevin Bacon from her. Four maybe, but not three. And Chuck I’ll get on Netflix and give it a go. But keep in mind, I’m writing this without actually ever having seen the shows in question. It’s all opinion masked as some sort of snarky journalism. Kind of like Fox News.
Wednesday night television has a few gems in a sea of malaise-inducing crud. I have to point out the few sparkling nuggets first. I adore Pushing Daisies, and not just because of Jim Dale’s animated voice-overs (he is the guy who performed all of the Harry Potter audio-books), but also because of the quirky nature of the characters, the plotting, as well as the wonderful use of costume, color, line, and. . . sorry, I think I slipped into my Get Your Geek On: Design persona. Anyway, it’s a crisp, colorful show and I’m glad ABC brought it back for another go-round. However, there is so much other silt to sift through that it makes the entire night a maze of sooty weeds.
When I was a lad of just fourteen, an Irish priest came to visit my class to speak to us about the possibility of receiving Holy Orders and joining the priesthood. That’s not important or relevant. What is important AND relevant is that the Priest, with his Irish accent, didn’t pronounce the ‘th’ in third as a ‘th’ sound at all, but a hard ‘tuh’ sound, thus turning every “third” into “turd.” As a fourteen year old, I found this unendingly amusing. As a thirtysomething (turdysomething) with a fourteen year old mentality, I still find it amazingly funny, and appropriate when discussing this Fall’s Thursday’s (Turdsday) TV lineup.
