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The South just moves at a different speed, kinda like the Special Olympics. Just as I wouldn’t expect some Downy soft kid to break any real land speed records, I wouldn’t expect the South to be producing any chess champions or JPL employees anytime soon. That is just not what the South is about. See, last week I had to fly to Orangeburg, South Cacka Lacka for a funeral (also the reason my article was half finished last week, and as Steve “Sting” Borden would say “that’s a shoot”). But on the way there, the flight out of my Memphis layover was overbooked, so I got bumped. Of course I asked how that was possible, and the answer I got was something to the effect that they must have scheduled too many people to be on that flight. Well, no shit. Isn’t that kinda what "overbooked" means, asshole? I wanna know why I was told I had a seat on a plane that there was no way for me to have a seat on. But in the end, I seriously felt that arguing simple spatial mathematics to a man whose face was redder than my asshole after wiping with that SOS pad-like generic airport TP, and who apparently thought my name was “Ya’ll”, even though it was just the one of me that got bumped from the flight, was completely moot.
So I moved on. Even I can’t cause someone bodily harm in an airport without being locked up for a long time, though I had devised a way to slow puncture this redneck’s kidney with a Bic soft gel pen, since all my other sharp objects had been confiscated by TSA. Who knew a little 12” Ka-Bar was such a threat to national security? You know how many Nazi’s were killed with those things, goddamnit?! And how come the Pope gets to speak German at Auschwitz? I was banned from the country for three years when I did it. He was the one who was a Hitler Youth, not me. Anyway, I figured I’d get another flight out of there that day, but as the woman at the front desk informed me, “Naw, we goan have to put chyu up at da Ramada, cuz honey dis here airpoat be dun closed at doirk. Folks kaint be missin dey Americuz Idols.” For the record, she was white.
So I was stuck in Memphis, overnight. At first I was frustrated, but honestly the moment I realized I was gonna be in the South for a few days, things started to immediately slow down, like Karo syrup on an ice cube. (For the uninformed that's what you call a Birmingham Popsicle.) As I scanned around the nearly abandoned airport, everything got all Matrix “bullet time”, and it was like I was some kind of superhero. I knew I could process information faster than anyone for a 600-mile radius, so I felt invincible. It was like everyone else had molasses and melted bubble gum stuck to their shoes and I was Todd Bridges on Ice. So, armed with a free hotel room, some food vouchers, and my ability to move faster than my mother-in-law moves away from one of her own farts, I made my way into the musky Memphis night.
My first stop was the Fox and Hound on Sanderlin. They’ve got more high tech video screens in there than the bridge of the Enterprise. Although I can’t say the autographed pictures of David Duke or Strom Thurman really made me feel at home, I really wanted to see what the score of the Suns game was. Does Nash flat iron his hair or something, because even ¾’s into the game he looks like one of the Charlie’s Angels. Regardless, it was comforting to know that someone in the South was at least smart enough to figure out how to turn on the cable. The drinks at F&H however, all tasted terrible to me. At first I couldn’t figure it out. What could be different in the South about a Jack and Coke? Shit Lynchburg ain’t but a stone’s throw away. Black, white, or a different shade of green, you gotta love a town that ain’t afraid to tell you where it stands right in it’s name.
So was my drink different because I was so close to the source of the flowing gold intoxicant that I was so anxiously ready to imbibe? Nope. Whiskey is whiskey. I realized it was the motherfucking ice cubes (the frozen kind, not the O’Shea Jackson kind). Ever since Katrina, the water in certain parts of the South just tastes bad. These particular ice cubes tasted like four-week-old boiled broccoli covered in split pea baby shit.
I wasn’t gonna be able to get a decent drink that didn’t come prepackaged in a can, so I thought maybe a bottle of Pabst and some blues would ease the pain of being stranded in the Gary Indiana of the South. I headed into BB King's Blues club and what do I hear? Fucking Elvis! It’s not that I have problem with the King, it’s that I expect to see a fat 60-year-old Asian Elvis impersonator in a Las Vegas skydiving review or wedding chapel, not the best blues club in Memphis. Without TSA around, it was easy for me to remedy this situation by jamming one of Mr. Pwess Ree’s jumpsuit sequins into his tear duct so that he could no longer see, think, or sing. Then I grabbed some bum off the street corner, handed him a broken beer bottle and steel guitar I ripped off of the wall, and got to hear myself some real Delta blues. I did, however, compensate the artsist now known as King Lee Wang by purchasing several of his Velvis and dogs playing poker velvet paintings from the back of his child rape looking, veloured Econoline.
My night was finally winding down, but I still had food vouchers that were only good at the hotel and the airport. The airport had been closed since I left there at 8PM, so it was back to the Ramada on Democrat. This was the moment where I had underestimated the South. I thought, how good could room service at a Ramada be? I’d be lucky to have a clean towel, a bed with no wet cum stains, a grilled cheese from room service, and a strong enough filter on the AC unit to keep Memphis’ naturally saturated smell of wet dog from continually humping my sweaty leg all night. Of course, the last one was too much to ask. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter where you are in the South- a pulled pork BBQ sandwich and some tea is always going to make you feel as shooting your streamy goo onto the face of some innocent receiver of the bukkake.
I felt like a new man when I smelled my lovely soaked pieces of swine being carried down the hall toward my room (By the way, when you say 'tea' in the South, it always refers to sweetened iced tea, just like when you say 'Coke' it means any type of soda. I said, “I want a Coke.” She said, “what kind of Coke, honey?” I said, “A Sprite Coke.” She said, “coming right up. You want them taters scattered, smothered and covered too?” “Yes, ma’am.”). After I had consumed the best tasting Big Pig sandwich on this side of the street for two blocks, along with some baked beans, collards, hash browns, and fried okra, I looked at the clock and it was 8:45 PM. I told you, time moves differently in the South. So I took my first of five pointless “get the funk off” showers before my 5:00 AM flight, and decided that watching reruns of "Gomer Pyle" on TBS was gonna be the only way to pass the time efficiently, since I had already seen Defloration Garden 1-5 and didn’t have a credit card on file at the front desk anyway, since the room was a comp. Pyle has got to be where the “don’t ask don’t tell” policy came from. I’d sooner buy one of Jim Neighbors's albums off of the Home Shopping Network than ever let that horse-faced prick in my beloved Corps.
But anyway, the moral of the story is, if your are stuck in the South, expect that life moves a little slower. Just sit back on the porch, pour a glass of sweet tea and enjoy a heaping plate of food smothered in gravy or barbeque sauce and give up on getting anything done quickly. Ten minutes in the express lane at the Hogly Wogly is equivalent to three semesters of college in the rest of the world in both time and knowledge gained.
– Five Ears for awesome shit that makes me want to fight, fuck or kill! – Four Ears for well above average stuff that gives me a chubby – Three Ears for well-rounded but average... like a white girl's ass – Two Ears for subpar material that makes my crotch itch – One Ear for shit that makes me want to fight, fuck, or kill for the wrong reasons. – An added testicle for shit that is in between.
Fan boys unite. For the next few weeks you can stop arguing about Jessica Alba’s Fantastic Four costume. You can stop debating whether or not The Albino from The DaVinci Code or Mark Hamill will play the Joker in the next Batman movie. You can stop crying over the cancellation of "Alias". You can put down your Marvel Universe Civil War issues of New Avengers and Iron Man. And for Christ’s sake, you can log out of that chat room full of people complaining about the motorcycle in the Nic Cage version of Ghost Rider. I know you fan boys can find out just exactly how many pixels they have used to enhanced Brandon Routh’s cod piece in the new Superman, but here is your chance to just forget about all the inside grit and comic book accuracy and just enjoy a fucking movie, because X-men III is definitely a good movie. Given there are so many great characters that it is almost hard to follow all the B-stories, but the movie is still ten times better than most comic book movies, as long as the fanboys of the world don’t ruin it with over analysis.
I sat next to a reviewer that had never read a single issue of The Uncanny X-Men,or seen either of the other two movies, and all he asked me when this one was finished was “Are the other two this good?” I told him they weren’t, but issues 161-166 where Wolverine is fighting the Brood on some distant planet while the New Mutants were defending the good name of all the “Homo superiors” back on Earth was a pretty good run. Goddamnit! Stay on target, fanboy. I meant, I told him this movie was definitely better than the others. You know, shit, the Dark Phoenix storyline has always been one of the high points of the Marvel Universe, even though we later find out that Phoenix is just a clone and that the real Jean Grey is in a hibernative cocoon-like state until she is resurrected and welcomed back to the fold of the original X-Men in the Marvel spin off series X-Factor. Um, I meant to say, Hugh Jackman and Famke Jansen are really hot together.
Nevermind, the fact that Wolverine should be wearing his own costume, not an X-Men uniform, Storm had a mohawk during this run of the story line or that the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants was really Mystique’s group and not Magneto’s.
None of that is relevant to this particular story line about a “cure” to the mutant X-gene. But Jesus, fucking Kelsey Grammar as Beast! What the fuck is that non-sense! I don’t come to your house and cast Jeri Ryan as Lillith, do I? I didn’t even complain when Doug Ray Scott lost the Wolverine part to Jackman because filming on Mission Impossible II ran long. But damn it, I have hated Kelsey Grammar ever since he tried to block the WWE from shooting Tough Enough 2 in a Malibu home that was nearly three acres from the next closest house. You are a snobby prick, Frasier. I hope you wither away and die in an Alzheimer’s induced obscurity, like Ronald Reagan. I can’t believe they let you sit next to a naked Rebecca Romijn “thank God she dropped the” Stamos. Every bit of blue body spray and fake pecs was wasted on your sorry bald ass. You no talent hack of an actor. Get out of my X-Men, you oozing dribble of cock snot!
Whoa. Ummmn. Deep breath. There’s plenty of time to get to Tashi Station to pick up those power converters. No need to whine.
What I meant to say was that there a lots of fine actors in this film. Aside from Lady Ian McKellen’s second appearance in a blockbuster this week, you have the fine talents of Capt. Picard, Frasier, and Catwoman rounding out this magnificent cast. Boy I’d sure love to see Juggernaut pull a Billy Bob and go head first at Storm while she screams “Make Me Feel Good!” Anyway, in spite of the incorrect costumes, the mistelling of the Dark Phoenix story line, the inclusion of Rogue in any form, the fact that Iceman and Angel are younger than X-Men who appeared 94 issues later than them, and the fact that director Bret Ratner’s only real contribution to American cinema has been the movie that proved Jackie Chan was old and Chris Tucker was an idiot not to do the Friday sequels, Rush Hour, I still think X-Men: Last Stand is a pretty darn good movie and should just be enjoyed for it’s fine cinematic qualities and not be judged on peoples expectations from the previous versions, it’s summer tent-pole budget or the awesome comic book story lines from issues 113-204. And that’s all I have to say about this flick. Sorry I got a little distracted with my review, but I need to get back to my Everquest II: Echoes Of Faydwer beta test group before some else in my party finds the the Etheric Katar in the Nektulos Forest without me.
So "The West Wing" is gone. Good! Maybe now the Democrats can go back to living in reality instead of vicariously through a fictitious world where a Latino has a chance of actually winning the Presidency. Oh, wait - realistic Democrats? That’s an oxymoron, because in the real world the Donkeys are silly enough to believe that a woman as polarizing as Hilary Clinton has a chance to win. To be fair Republicans are idiots too, for thinking that anyone will believe Jerry Faldwell endorsing McCain came from anything less than the world’s best Elephant blow job. Apparently ABC thought a female president was a good idea too, but even three different top-notch show runners and awesome weekly performances by the creepy Donald Sutherland couldn’t save television's other White House drama from the chopping block.
Obviously ABC made a few other last-minute decisions as well. The almost hit show "Invasion" was cut off at the knees, not unlike "Max Headroom" and "Twin Peaks", or a Lance Corporal that has been bullet-ridden in the shins by some Taliban holdover firing a Russian-made AK 47. "Invasion", like so many other shows, was given just enough time to start getting good, before it was shit canned. And then forced in to creating a series finale out of what was obviously meant to be a cliffhanger for next season. Maybe Sci-Fi will pick it up and sandwich this show between the "Cylons" and that silly British doctor in a phone booth.
Also gone forever will be "Heist", "Will and Grace", "Four Kings", "Alias", "Threshold", "Yes Dear", "Arrested Development", "Bernie Mac", "Malcolm", "That 70’s Show", "Joey", "Everwood", "Charmed" and most of the Black programming on UPN. Oh no! Whatever will I do without my "Half & Half", "Cuts", or "Eve"? Answer: lead a much more productive and fruitful life. The only time I have ever thought Eve was funny was in that internet video where she is getting plowed with a dildo the size of my elbow. What kind of dyke has a dude fucking her with a dildo instead of real cock anyway? And that’s probably only about half of the existing shows that won’t be coming back next year. That’s right- once again network television has convinced you to waste your time and energy on a bunch of programming that the networks themselves don’t believe in. So what you are left with is guaranteed moneymakers.
The only things the networks keep are the shows they know will sell ads ahead of time at their stupid yearly upfronts, which concluded last week. They know they can sell ad slots to Massengill during "Desperate Housewives". The AARP will buy piles of ads for life insurance during "CSI". And what state couldn’t sell some Lotto scratchers during "Earl"? TV execs know that Ford will sponsor the shit out of "24" and another season of "American Idol". Hell, I almost ran out and bought myself a Mustang after I saw Prince blow up the spot at the "Idol" finale. I was worried for the safety of his dancers though. Didn’t they get the memo to stay bent at the knees? Prince will have a bitch killed and dumped in Lake Minnetonka if she stands up straight and looks taller than him on national TV. You know the world thinks a show is important when Hasselhoff and Fatone are in the audience taking notes on Meatloaf’s performance, or at least notes on how to be a sweaty fat hack with silk handkerchief. Not nearly as cool as Barry White only using the suede side of his leather handkerchief, but we're talking about the same guy whose brightest moment was growing tits for Fight Club.
But somehow these are the shows we care about, not the ones we just kind of like in passing. For some reason, people care if Charlie Sheen and Ducky can raise a fat kid. They want to know if Dr. Jack and Sawyer are gonna put on The Others’ fake beards and double-team Kate. They want to see if Jack Bauer is actually gonna take on six billion Chinese soldiers since he has already stopped two nuclear attacks, six airborne viruses, 23 bombs, 4,326 armed bad guys, at least 11 traitors within CTU, and one evil turkey-necked President. Yes, for some reason we want to know how Howie Mandel can convince someone to open another case when they have a 71% chance of being stuck with a lower amount than their current offer. These are the things that people cared about during yet another tedious May sweeps period, not the disappointment of the final Rambaldi device being less interesting than the last four season finales, or that Joey’s agent will have to find a new vapid actor to represent.
If one of your favorite shows got canceled, it’s your own fault. You should have watched it, talked to your friends about it around the water cooler, and started a fan site dedicated to unraveling the show's secrets or disseminating its gossip, because four million viewers a week apparently just isn’t enough to keep a show on the air these days. Rabid, viral fan worship and housewives in Poughkeepsie tuning in is the only thing that will keep the networks excited about continuing your favorite shows. That’s why I can’t wait for another season of "Beauty and The Geek".
1. If I handed you a bologna sandwich but you had order the chicken salad, what would you do? Or put another way, even though I am a wrestling fan, I still haven’t had a chance to review Kane’s feature film debut See No Evil, so feel free to post your own review. Somehow I doubt it’s even necessary to actually see the film to review it.
2. Caption this.
3. I know Snakes on a Plane is stil ltwo and half months away, but are there any other summer movies you are actually looking forward to? If you say Adam Sandler’s Click, I will duct tape you to a broken rocking chair and force you to watch UHF and Oh God! Book 2 on an endless loop until you repent for your sins.
Birthday shout outs to my Mother (yes I have one) and to my boy, Timmy Mike Mike chillin back at the Wax Monkey compound.
Honestly whats with all the shit toward the south? is it that yankees think that they are that much better or is it that they do not understand our way of life and are scared of it? I'm from New Orleans and am yet to meet a yankee who truely embraces the new Orleans way of life. it seems like we are looked down upon for taking it easy and for some reason that doesnt make sense to me
mickanski
Oh no
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Posted: 5/26/2006 4:02:25 AM
I can see where this is headed. Remember what happened with Biggie and Tupac in that whole East Coast versus West Coast thing before we get into somekind of North Coast vs. South Coast thing. I believe that I have read before that either Napalm or his parents are from Louisianna, so I believe most of his comments to be out of love. But we'll see.
2. "Dance Spider, dance. You stupid prick."
3. Looking forward to Reno 911 movie..... going straight to video that is.
Feech
Who Cares>?
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Posted: 5/26/2006 8:32:26 AM
How cares what a bunch of gel haired faggots think about the south? i much rather the enitre county think that i am possibly slower than the rest by the way i talk, than have everyone think i am a queer by the way i dress.
2. ooo! my asshole itches!
Patrick M
2/3
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Posted: 5/26/2006 10:02:43 AM
1. I'd eat the bologna sandwich, assuming you weren't typing metaphorically. 2. "I'll reenact last night: 'cept with my own hand...and this here mic." 3. Haven't heard about anything coming down the line that's caught my interest.
Ben
?s
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Posted: 5/26/2006 10:07:41 AM
1. I would eat the bologna. You're a scary man.
3. Dead Man's Chest. Shiver me timbers. PIrates rock.
Ben
caveat
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Posted: 5/26/2006 10:09:04 AM
Oh shit. I think I would like to add the metaphorically part to my response as well.
Atlas
Napalm
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Posted: 5/26/2006 10:12:58 AM
An X-Men fan to boot. I was actually thinking about selling my collection, I figured the price would never be as high as it is now. The beast didn't go blue until much later, the always screw the timing up in these things.
Fuck you I am not a nerd.
Tom A
Napalm
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Posted: 5/26/2006 10:37:09 AM
wow - goooooood rant, Marine.
NWA and Memphis, TN. Ahhh, yes. Hotel bars full of FA's and booking agents. But can they really blame the bad water in TN on Katrina? Seriously? Either my recollection of grade school geography is quite bad, or they are really reaching on that one.
Chics in pics 1-4 and 7 have nice racks (possibly 6, too, but I doubt it).
Responses:
1) Fake a seizure 2) [caption]: "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie! C'mon, man! I was in perfect position, see, and he just busted his big ol' ass right into me and dunked!" 3) Is 'Snowed White and the Seven Horny Dwarves, Part 21" coming out this summer?
Charlie Sheen
The Fat Kid
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Posted: 5/26/2006 11:00:41 AM
has some cute classmates.
Question 1: I would eat it while grinding Christine up against the filing cabinet. She could have a couple bites, too.
Caption: "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto..."
Last question: "Wall Street II - Buddy's Revenge"
dc
caption
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Posted: 5/26/2006 11:14:47 AM
God damn! Why the fuck did you shoot me, Dad? This shit hurts.
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– Five Ears for awesome shit that makes me want to fight, fuck or kill! 
– Four Ears for well above average stuff that gives me a chubby
– Three Ears for well-rounded but average... like a white girl's ass
– Two Ears for subpar material that makes my crotch itch
– One Ear for shit that makes me want to fight, fuck, or kill for the wrong reasons.
– An added testicle for shit that is in between.
Fan boys unite. For the next few weeks you can stop arguing about Jessica Alba’s Fantastic Four costume. You can stop debating whether or not The Albino from The DaVinci Code or Mark Hamill will play the Joker in the next Batman movie. You can stop crying over the cancellation of "Alias". You can put down your Marvel Universe Civil War issues of New Avengers and Iron Man. And for Christ’s sake, you can log out of that chat room full of people complaining about the motorcycle in the Nic Cage version of Ghost Rider. I know you fan boys can find out just exactly how many pixels they have used to enhanced Brandon Routh’s cod piece in the new Superman, but here is your chance to just forget about all the inside grit and comic book accuracy and just enjoy a fucking movie, because X-men III is definitely a good movie. Given there are so many great characters that it is almost hard to follow all the B-stories, but the movie is still ten times better than most comic book movies, as long as the fanboys of the world don’t ruin it with over analysis. 
I sat next to a reviewer that had never read a single issue of The Uncanny X-Men,or seen either of the other two movies, and all he asked me when this one was finished was “Are the other two this good?” I told him they weren’t, but issues 161-166 where Wolverine is fighting the Brood on some distant planet while the New Mutants were defending the good name of all the “Homo superiors” back on Earth was a pretty good run. Goddamnit! Stay on target, fanboy. I meant, I told him this movie was definitely better than the others. You know, shit, the Dark Phoenix storyline has always been one of the high points of the Marvel Universe, even though we later find out that Phoenix is just a clone and that the real Jean Grey is in a hibernative cocoon-like state until she is resurrected and welcomed back to the fold of the original X-Men in the Marvel spin off series X-Factor. Um, I meant to say, Hugh Jackman and Famke Jansen are really hot together. 
None of that is relevant to this particular story line about a “cure” to the mutant X-gene. But Jesus, fucking Kelsey Grammar as Beast! What the fuck is that non-sense! I don’t come to your house and cast Jeri Ryan as Lillith, do I? I didn’t even complain when Doug Ray Scott lost the Wolverine part to Jackman because filming on Mission Impossible II ran long. But damn it, I have hated Kelsey Grammar ever since he tried to block the WWE from shooting Tough Enough 2 in a Malibu home that was nearly three acres from the next closest house. You are a snobby prick, Frasier. I hope you wither away and die in an Alzheimer’s induced obscurity, like Ronald Reagan. I can’t believe they let you sit next to a naked Rebecca Romijn “thank God she dropped the” Stamos. Every bit of blue body spray and fake pecs was wasted on your sorry bald ass. You no talent hack of an actor. Get out of my X-Men, you oozing dribble of cock snot! 
What I meant to say was that there a lots of fine actors in this film. Aside from Lady Ian McKellen’s second appearance in a blockbuster this week, you have the fine talents of Capt. Picard, Frasier, and Catwoman rounding out this magnificent cast. Boy I’d sure love to see Juggernaut pull a Billy Bob and go head first at Storm while she screams “Make Me Feel Good!” Anyway, in spite of the incorrect costumes, the mistelling of the Dark Phoenix story line, the inclusion of Rogue in any form, the fact that Iceman and Angel are younger than X-Men who appeared 94 issues later than them, and the fact that director Bret Ratner’s only real contribution to American cinema has been the movie that proved Jackie Chan was old and Chris Tucker was an idiot not to do the Friday sequels, Rush Hour, I still think X-Men: Last Stand is a pretty darn good movie and should just be enjoyed for it’s fine cinematic qualities and not be judged on peoples expectations from the previous versions, it’s summer tent-pole budget or the awesome comic book story lines from issues 113-204. And that’s all I have to say about this flick. Sorry I got a little distracted with my review, but I need to get back to my Everquest II: Echoes Of Faydwer beta test group before some else in my party finds the the Etheric Katar in the Nektulos Forest without me.
So "The West Wing" is gone. Good! Maybe now the Democrats can go back to living in reality instead of vicariously through a fictitious world where a Latino has a chance of actually winning the Presidency. Oh, wait - realistic Democrats? That’s an oxymoron, because in the real world the Donkeys are silly enough to believe that a woman as polarizing as Hilary Clinton has a chance to win. To be fair Republicans are idiots too, for thinking that anyone will believe Jerry Faldwell endorsing McCain came from anything less than the world’s best Elephant blow job. Apparently ABC thought a female president was a good idea too, but even three different top-notch show runners and awesome weekly performances by the creepy Donald Sutherland couldn’t save television's other White House drama from the chopping block.
Also gone forever will be "Heist", "Will and Grace", "Four Kings", "Alias", "Threshold", "Yes Dear", "Arrested Development", "Bernie Mac", "Malcolm", "That 70’s Show", "Joey", "Everwood", "Charmed" and most of the Black programming on UPN. Oh no! Whatever will I do without my "Half & Half", "Cuts", or "Eve"? Answer: lead a much more productive and fruitful life. The only time I have ever thought Eve was funny was in that internet video where she is getting plowed with a dildo the size of my elbow. What kind of dyke has a dude fucking her with a dildo instead of real cock anyway? And that’s probably only about half of the existing shows that won’t be coming back next year. That’s right- once again network television has convinced you to waste your time and energy on a bunch of programming that the networks themselves don’t believe in. So what you are left with is guaranteed moneymakers. 
The only things the networks keep are the shows they know will sell ads ahead of time at their stupid yearly upfronts, which concluded last week. They know they can sell ad slots to Massengill during "Desperate Housewives". The AARP will buy piles of ads for life insurance during "CSI". And what state couldn’t sell some Lotto scratchers during "Earl"? TV execs know that Ford will sponsor the shit out of "24" and another season of "American Idol". Hell, I almost ran out and bought myself a Mustang after I saw Prince blow up the spot at the "Idol" finale. I was worried for the safety of his dancers though. Didn’t they get the memo to stay bent at the knees? Prince will have a bitch killed and dumped in Lake Minnetonka if she stands up straight and looks taller than him on national TV. You know the world thinks a show is important when Hasselhoff and Fatone are in the audience taking notes on Meatloaf’s performance, or at least notes on how to be a sweaty fat hack with silk handkerchief. Not nearly as cool as Barry White only using the suede side of his leather handkerchief, but we're talking about the same guy whose brightest moment was growing tits for Fight Club. 
But somehow these are the shows we care about, not the ones we just kind of like in passing. For some reason, people care if Charlie Sheen and Ducky can raise a fat kid. They want to know if Dr. Jack and Sawyer are gonna put on The Others’ fake beards and double-team Kate. They want to see if Jack Bauer is actually gonna take on six billion Chinese soldiers since he has already stopped two nuclear attacks, six airborne viruses, 23 bombs, 4,326 armed bad guys, at least 11 traitors within CTU, and one evil turkey-necked President. Yes, for some reason we want to know how Howie Mandel can convince someone to open another case when they have a 71% chance of being stuck with a lower amount than their current offer. These are the things that people cared about during yet another tedious May sweeps period, not the disappointment of the final Rambaldi device being less interesting than the last four season finales, or that Joey’s agent will have to find a new vapid actor to represent. 
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