Category Archives: Television

A Thousand Dollars For A Kiss: Stockholm Syndrome And The Star Wars Holiday Special

A Thousand Dollars For A Kiss: Stockholm Syndrome And The Star Wars Holiday Special

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xn5gsj_the-star-wars-holiday-special_shortfilms#.Urii3IHqCKc.link

Though entirely speculative, sometime in early 1978 a high-riding George Lucas parked his BWM at a 7-11 somewhere in the San Fernando Valley during a break in early pre-production of The Empire Strikes Back.

Gone Are The Days Of Shock And Delight: A Review Of “Misfits”

Gone Are The Days Of Shock And Delight: A Review Of “Misfits”

Remember when Heroes was interesting? Before Claire got bangs and ran away to Mexico or whatever and they started spending of their time with that steam-punk, back-in-time carnival? No? Well who cares, because Heroes sucks now. Gone are the days where I wonder if it’s appropriate for me to be attracted to the dad. Gone are the days I feel shock and delight when I realize that Hiro Nakamora’s future self is a time-traveling madman who probably knows tons of sick ju jitsu moves.

That show and LOST, man. Shark-jumping failure. It only hurts because I loved both of them so much, and now my nerdy heart is broken.

But from this withered shell of once-genius springs a show that’s just so great–Misfits. The premise is along the same lines as Heroes: ordinary you-and-mes get super powers, compelling plot lines ensue. The difference is, the Misfits are a band of fucked up failures with behavioral problems. They’re doing community service together when they gain their powers.

Unlike Heroes, you don’t get pulled back and forth wondering who the good guys are. There really are no good guys: there are impulsive, self-conscious, self-centered, manipulative assholes who you grow to really care for. The characters need and love each other because ultimately they’re kind of afraid of their own powers (and their actions. The plot packs major punches to some pretty fragile mental health).

When I started the show I thought that certain aspects were intolerably annoying. There’s an awful lot of techno, for example. On occasion during the first season, I wanted to hold the character Nathan’s head under water (and now I love him! He looks like mini Bob Dylan!). I powered through these moments because the show is on the whole is so stylish, funny, gritty and tender.

The character Kelly is probably my favorite: she’s an obnoxious, stereotypical chav, and if you were British, you would know what that means. It’s kind of the south-LA-Latina-gangster of Europe. She’s fun to watch, she’s fierce and loyal, and my high-school-self recoils in terror when I see her long ass fake nails she probably uses to claw at people’s eyes.

The show is artistically dark and artfully directed and the cast is incredible, which is why I’m adding it to my list of things titled “Misfits” that are excellent:

  • The series I just reviewed. Booya.
  • The American rock progenitors of horror-punk
  • The devastating movie starring Clarke Gable and Marilyn Monroe
  • The better band from the show Jem and the Holograms

So get on board, champs. Especially if you’re into brilliant super hero shows that are set in their own comic-like universe, which you definitely should be. Up up and away.

Bunny McIntosh is a co-founder of Baby Robot Industries and writes on meltingdolls.com. Her favorite food is honey butter and her favorite actor is the dad on Star Wars. She hates optical illusions and playing sports (except wrestling). Follow her on Twitter @BunnyMcIntosh.

 

No One Has Ever Called Me A Donkey To My Face: Why It’s Safer Not To Audition For Gordon Ramsay

No One Has Ever Called Me A Donkey To My Face: Why It’s Safer Not To Audition For Gordon Ramsay

Say what you like about Gordon Ramsay—I’m sure you’re right—but I’m a fan. Sort of. I don’t dive for the remote when Kitchen Nightmares comes on, and when friends bemoan his intolerable cruelty, I make a half-hearted point about how he genuinely seems to be trying to help most of the time. When it comes to Gordon Ramsay, that’s more or less what it means to be a fan.

But for some reason, in spite of my noncommittal interest, I’ve kept up with Hell’s Kitchen as though it were a primitive religion. Nine seasons over six years, and I’ve seen every episode.

It’s a guilty pleasure, I guess. I watch it the way people watch Hoarders and Supernanny and other TV sideshows. It’s wickedly fascinating to view a terrible situation from a safe distance, and we all seem to justify it by imagining that we’re being educated on how to stay out of trouble. Never start collecting newspapers. Never let your children sleep in your bed. Never audition for Hell’s Kitchen, even if you’re a five-star chef with $1mil in gambling debt and the mob has just set your car on fire. Never. No. Stay in the car.

At least, that’s what I take away. It’s not that I think I couldn’t make it onto Hell’s Kitchen (although I don’t), or that I wouldn’t get very far (although I wouldn’t). It has nothing to do with the show. That part could be fun, provided you can stand the cigarette smoke. The problem is that if you make it to the end, you go to work for Gordon Ramsay. That’s the prize. After six years of researching him as an employer, I can confidently say that prize sucks.

I’ve ended my share of job interviews with a smile, a handshake, and the assertion that although I hope the company finds what it’s looking for, I’m not it. Once, it was because the interviewer asked me what I’d do if, having performed my job perfectly, I routinely found myself being screamed at for something beyond my control. Another interviewer spent so much time ascertaining the details of how I deal with stress that there wasn’t time in our 30-minute interview to discuss my qualifications. Thanks anyway.

That isn’t to say that I’ve loved every boss and every job I’ve had. I once worked across the hall from a business owner who watched porn all day on a little television beside his desk. And my last job involved a co-worker who was so mean all the time that the sound of her laughter made my mind go blank with panic and fury like some kind of angry possum. So for all my selectivity, no job has been perfect.

No one has ever called me a donkey to my face, either, so I stand by my method.

I mean, suppose that for some reason—call it brain damage—you really did want to work for Ramsay. Even if you win Hell’s Kitchen, experiencing the smallest amount of abuse, failure and public misfortune of all the competing chefs, you’ll still have had a bad service or two along the way. So now you’ve got this new job. But there’s footage that was broadcast worldwide of your new boss berating your and explaining precisely, and at an unseemly volume, why you are a useless, fat, disgusting cow who can’t even cook a simple risotto. True, the camera also captures your comeback, either via shaping up on appetizers or killing the next challenge, and the idea is that because you eventually win back Ramsay’s respect, it’s all water under the bridge of your professional development. Ramsay is helping you! He’s making you stronger! He’s like an emotionally-distant, abusive father, and you’re like a huge idiot on a TV show. But suppose that’s what you wanted. Fine.

Still, after a bad day at work, when entrees are sent back and somebody quits in the middle of service and you’re sweating all over the tableside carving station (what? real restaurants don’t force reluctant chefs to wander around the dining room with a push-cart? the hell you say), you’re going to think back to that video. You’ll recall the scene where a tuba plays as you deliver your subpar risotto, and Ramsay interrupts service so everyone can see him hurl the entire pan into the garbage, and you’ll wonder what the hell has become of your life.

Oh, sure, the winners of Hell’s Kitchen don’t work directly with Ramsay. But just because he’s not there to bring his furious palm down on an undercooked portion of halibut doesn’t mean he’s not your boss. And don’t think he can’t slap a fish at you over the phone. No. Best not to audition in the first place. Stay home with your flaming car and your terrible children and organize your newspapers. It’s safer.

Kristina Ackerman runs popular cooking and crafting blog Knuckle Salad, where seldom is heard a discouraging word— especially from Gordon Ramsay.

I’m Sure His Skeleton Will Have Time Lord Bones: A Review of “Doctor Who Series 6”

I’m Sure His Skeleton Will Have Time Lord Bones: A Review of “Doctor Who Series 6”

This review contains spoilers.

The Doctor is in America! He has a cowboy hat. But River Song shoots his hat off his head. This woman is so reckless with guns. I saw her shoot a dude that was just walking behind her without even looking over her shoulder. Everybody on the show just seems to accept it, like “Well she seems to know what she’s doing.” It’s like if a little kid had a flamethrower and a handwritten note that said “FLAMTHOWER XPURT” and he was lighting houses on fire but all the adults just shrugged and said, “Who are we to stop him? He has certification.”

Anyway, the Doctor gets shot in the face with a laser by a little girl in an astronaut suit and dies before he can regenerate. Man, they just let the kids run wild at Space Camp these days. But it’s a version of the Doctor from two hundred years in the future, so whatever. I’m sure his skeleton will have Time Lord bones or something and another British guy will emerge from his ribcage.

Then the current Doctor goes to the White House and meets President Nixon. He fights some aliens called the Silence because you forget them after you see them. Also, a bunch of stuff happens with River Song and Amy Pond being pregnant and the little girl in the space suit again. There was way too much going on in one episode. It was like being on the haunted house ride at the fair where things keep getting thrown out at you while you ride in a cart. Hideous aliens! Amy’s mysterious pregnancy! President Nixon played by a man who looks nothing like him! Now the little girl is a time lord?! Also, Rory! Come to think of it, things getting thrown out at you while you ride in a cart is considered a traditional wedding in my hometown of Milledgeville, Georgia.

The Doctor ends up on a pirate ship because a beautiful siren surrounded by glowing green light is luring sailors away after marking their hands with a black spot, much like the girl stamping hands for reentry at any rave near a naval base. I went to a rave on New Year’s Eve once and danced all night by myself while my friend drunkenly sat in a nearby chair. Of course, dancing all night by yourself while your friend sits drunkenly in a nearby chair is also considered a traditional wedding in my hometown of Milledgeville, Georgia.

Turns out the siren is a spaceship’s medical bay artificial intelligence and it thinks the sailors are sick or something so the Doctor says hey pirates want some advanced technology and gives them the ship even though up to this point they were the robbing and murdering kind of pirates. Then the Doctor answers a distress call on a trash planet and the TARDIS gets put inside a woman, marking the first time that phrase has been used to describe the actual transmutation of the TARDIS software into a living human’s brain and not a Doctor Who fan’s nickname for her vibrator.

Then the Doctor goes to a factory where people are having clones made of themselves and using them as avatars for dangerous factory work. But the avatars come to life! I wish my Xbox Live avatar would come to life, maybe it would justify the five dollars I spent on Mass Effect 2 dragon armor for him. Also, the two dollars I spent on the lightsaber he waves half-heartedly when I turn on my Xbox. “Oh hello! Yes, I’m…really enjoying…this lightsaber you bought for me. And the armor. There’s no one for me to fight here, but it’s nice to just…wave it. Back and forth. Whoosh. When the inevitable war against Xbox Live avatars comes, I’ll be the first line of defense.”

The mid-season finale was particularly crazy. First of all, Amy Pond has been a fake avatar Amy this whole time. Second of all, the real Amy is pregnant with a baby version of River Song. Third, the baby River Song is a Time Lord because she was conceived inside the TARDIS. Fourth, a woman with an eyepatch has stolen the baby River Song to use her as a weapon against the Doctor. It could have been worse, though— usually when an old woman missing an eye steals a baby, it’s to put in a stew.

You know, it seems like just because you conceive a baby inside a vehicle doesn’t mean the baby would take on the traits or abilities of said vehicle. But far be it from me to go against Doctor Who’s airtight baby genetics logic. See you in September, Doctor Who!

A Cold Sailor’s Ghost At The Bottom Of The Ocean: Looking Back On “Dexter Season 5”

A Cold Sailor’s Ghost At The Bottom Of The Ocean: Looking Back On “Dexter Season 5”

I just ate a pint of ice cream and watched True Grit. This must be how retired newspaper comic strip character Cathy feels. Ack! I guess Cathy would never watch True Grit. She’d probably watch True Fit, a romance about two clothing designers who hate each other at first then fall in love. Man, this ice cream is sitting in my stomach like a cold sailor’s ghost at the bottom of the ocean.

I still have to write this review of the fifth season of Dexter, though. Also, if you haven’t seen season four and you don’t know what happens at the end, you should stop reading this and go eat half a pint of ice cream, because that seems to be the magic stopping point for ice cream. If you eat the whole pint I can’t speak to the sorrow you’ll feel. Anyway, season four ended with Dexter’s wife getting killed by John Lithgow and his baby crying in a pool of blood. I bet vampires say “like a baby in a pool of blood” all the time. Oh, how was your vampire softball game? We beat the Florida Fangs 14-3. They were catching like a baby in a pool of blood.

Dexter is a suspect in his wife’s killing for a little while, but then he gets cleared. Then Detective Quinn suspects him of being up to no good, so he hires a shady cop to follow Dexter. The shady cop is played by RoboCop’s Peter Weller! Between my VHS copy of RoboCop and my love of the DC comics character Cyborg, it’s no surprise I asked my mom to drive me to the doctor’s office to have half of my limbs and organs replaced with robot parts when I was nine.

I’m not sure how I expected that to go down. “Sure, I’ll turn your kid into a cyborg for you, lady. No appointment needed. I turn kids into half-machines all the time! I got all kinds of gears and wheels I can put in your child’s body. Don’t worry about the fact that his body is still growing and developing, that’s what the hydraulics are for. Want your oil changed while you wait?”

In the meantime, Quinn starts having sex with Dexter’s sister Deb and then falls in love with her. Deb acts mad and surprised at everything and she curses a lot, like if Sarge from Beetle Bailey was a sexy Miami policewoman. Dexter befriends a city roadkill worker so he can kill him. And he does kill him! But then he finds a filthy Julia Stiles locked in a closet. Dexter nurses her back to health and they become a vigilante team because there’s a whole team of rapist murderers that need to get got.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant LaGuerta and Deb are at each other’s throats. Deb is shocked…SHOCKED when LaGuerta throws her to the wolves when a case goes wrong. LaGuerta wears leopard print all the time. Once a lady in leopard print came up to me in a bar and told me I looked like a dancer because I had a tight little body. If she could only see me now, post ice cream. Dexter’s children go to live with their grandparents. Dexter has sex with Julia Stiles.

The final boss is Jordan Chase, a motivational speaker. Dexter throws a grenade and pauses the game, taking advantage of a glitch. Jordan Chase takes constant damage while the game is paused. When Dexter unpauses, Jordan Chase is dead. Wait. That’s how you cheat in the NES game Blaster Master. Dexter kills Jordan Chase the old fashioned way, by letting Julia Stiles do it. She saves the last dance for Dexter and then because her guest star run on the series is over, she says I don’t want to kill for fun anymore, see you later Dexter, say hi to Edward James Olmos for me in season six! Frak!

A Beard Worth Stripping For! A Review of “Luther | Series 1”

A Beard Worth Stripping For! A Review of “Luther | Series 1”

Idris Elba is Detective Chief Inspector John Luther! In England, of course. It would be pretty posh if we had Detective Chief Inspectors here in America. I think it’s the “inspector” part that makes it sound so British. Like the police are constantly putting on a play about Sherlock Holmes.

I like the way Idris Elba’s hair looks in this show. He let it grow out a little wispy, kind of a smart-guy-rumpled look. I wish I had a smart-guy-rumpled beard, but I feel like I have more of a fatty-at-a-porn-convention beard. A stripper once touched my face and said she liked salt-and-pepper beards. I should have pulled out some salt and pepper shakers and shook them over my beard and said, “There you are, madam! Here’s a beard worth stripping for!”

In my heart-of-hearts I have to admit that the stripper was probably not into my beard, or any man’s beard. How did the heart-of-hearts system get started, anyway? Why do we need a smaller heart inside our regular heart? Is it like the boss of the heart? And why do we keep things we secretly know to be true in there? Seems like you’d want to keep that in your brain-of-brains.

Luther solves grisly crimes and tries to get back together with his wife who left him because he’s always thinking too much about fighting serial killers. Too much Batman, not enough Robin, I guess. You know Robin would totally give you a smooch when he got home from work and not talk about how the Penguin murdered the mayor with his umbrella and there was blood everywhere. Wakk! Wakk! Wakk!

Luther’s intro credits are set to “Paradise Circus” by Massive Attack. That song makes me think of kissing a Suicide Girl on an overcast day. Not that I’ve ever kissed a Suicide Girl. I saw a booth of them once at a comic convention but couldn’t think of anything good to say. “Hello tattooed pin-up girls. I see you’re all in a group here, with your clothes on. Guess that’s to be expected, with all the public nudity laws. Still, bang up job not wearing clothes on the internet. Keep up that nakedness!”

Luther is currently streaming on Netflix, the Penguin is currently at large, my heart-of-hearts is currently beating and somewhere a stripper who may or may not like salt-and-pepper beards is currently dancing at one of Atlanta’s classier strip clubs. Good night!

The Devil’s Art Director

As it turns out, the first season of The Twilight Zone from 1959 is not just good, it’s incredible. Nerds losing their glasses after the apocalypse, drunk gunslingers drinking magic fate powder, robot wives getting shot in the face on asteroids, not to mention the devil! And this is in the first five episodes.

In the episode ‘Escape Clause’, when the devil stamps his awesome logo on the contract for that hypochondriac’s soul, it made me graphic-design-nerd out. I wonder who designed that for him? A sinful, evil art director? Also, ‘Escape Claus’ would make a good movie about a man who absolutely does not want to take on the responsibility of being Santa Claus. I’m not even going to Google this to see if it’s already an actual movie.

Speaking of things getting done to robots’ faces, I finally watched I, Robot seven years after it came out. Here’s what I don’t get- the background robots look beautiful and the main robots look dumb. There was one robot serving coffee that looked so cool he should have been trying to kill Will Smith instead of pouring him a latte. I bet when that robot was mixing up Will Smith’s coffee he was thinking, ‘I should throw this in his face.’ Anyway, the Alan Tudyk robot had a weird face like it should have been on the cover of a circa-1985 Commodore 64 programming manual grinning up at you like an idiot with a swirly pastel swoosh coming out of his dumb head.

Finally, the first two seasons of Sons of Anarchy are much, much better than I thought they’d be. Except I think they must have gotten a really good deal on a hospital set because I feel like 70% of both seasons take place in the same hospital waiting room and hallway. The whole cast is in there just wandering around the hospital. I don’t even think Nurse Jackie films this many scenes in a hospital. What’s even crazier is they have a special doctor in their biker clubhouse so they don’t have to go to the hospital to get stitched up. I hear Stephen King makes a cameo in Season 3, probably as a certified LPN or doctor or hospital janitor or hospital administrator.

Men of a Certain Age | Season 1

Now- I would never tell a bondage porn company how to run their business, but it seems like a waste not to make a porn spoof of this show called Men In A Certain Cage. There’s your free advice, bondage porn company. Also, don’t take any wooden nickels. One time I visited the Uncle Remus museum in Eatonton, Georgia and they handed out wooden nickels at the end of the tour. Hell yeah, I took one. Do as I say, not as I do, Bre’r Rabbit.

I was sick all weekend so I decided to give Men of A Certain Age a shot. I was thinking, this show is going to be dumb I’ll just watch five minutes of the first episode then next thing you know I was having a Men of a Certain Age marathon. You now what, though? Even though I watched all the episodes I still did not click “watch all” on the DVD menu. Lets not get ahead of ourselves, DVD player. Slow and steady wins the race. Especially if it’s a race to watch all the episodes of Men of a Certain Age in one sitting. I win! Where is my trophy shaped like Ray Romano? Probably on back order behind all those people who needed them for their Everybody Loves Raymond conventions. I’ll see YOU at RaymondCon 2010!

Hate to say it, but I like Men of a Certain Age Scott Bakula better than Quantum Leap Scott Bakula. And I read the Quantum Leap novelizations in high school. And got angry when they contradicted the rules of the television show about whether Sam Beckett switches bodies when he leaps or if it’s just his mind leaping around in time. Which is it, Quantum Leap books?! This isn’t the novelization of Murder, She Wrote! Get your science right.

Is it wrong that Andre Braugher furtively stuffing Fiddle Faddle in his face trying to keep it a secret from his family made me want to run down to the grocery store and buy a box of Fiddle Faddle? Yeah, angry eating! Eat a bag of Cheetos popcorn then follow it up with a bag of cheddar & sour cream potato chips! Actually, don’t do that. I did that and then was surprised when later my stomach was all blrgghhh rarrr! Like having a damn viking on a trampoline in my belly. I bet a viking’s trampoline would have an awesome dragon’s head and you’d climb a staircase made of skulls to get on it. Bounce for the glory of ODIN my brothers! Anyway, Andre Braugher nailed it in Duets and he’s even better in Men of a Certain Age.

I couldn’t help but notice that Ray Romano’s character is a golfer who plays a lot of golf. That’s cool, Ray Romano. If I ever write my own show I’ll probably make my occupation video game tester who plays video games the best and makes out with Kristen Bell. And I’ll call it Veronica Mars Meets Mass Effect. And they will crown my show king of shows, and there will be parades and great rejoicing and peace for a thousand years.

Mad Men | Season 4

This review contains spoilers.

I hated the first few episodes of this season. I was even thinking of giving up on it. But then they showed a really good episode followed by even better episodes until it turned out to be the best of all the Mad Men seasons. It was like they were trying to weed out the real Mad Men fans to see who’d stick with it, like hiding a gingerbread house inside of a boring old regular house.

I guess that only works if you’re a witch and you’re trying to lure children into your sugar house. You know what was crazy in the story of Hansel and Gretel? The whole house is made of candy, but the witch’s stove is regular cast iron. If you already have the ability to make a candy house why not accent your candy home with candy furnishings? You have to keep your style consistent or your house will seem Nouveau-candy-riche.

Mad Men’s turn from boring to awesome was like if you went to see a lecture on maintaining strict tomato farming guidelines (Stay True… to Tomatoes!) and then when people got bored and started to leave William Shatner came out and said, guess what- this is actually a cosplay burlesque show, I’m going to sing cover songs and the whiskey is free all night long! Isn’t that right Lionel Richie? Cue Dancing on the Ceiling.

I loved so many things about this season. Don wrote in his precious diary so much you’d think he just got into the Baby-Sitters Club. Yeah, self-reflective Don Draper! I can barely swim across this pool, should I quit drinking? Probably, Don Draper. Looked like a nice pool, though. Sir, you can’t float there motionless at the bottom of this pool, we have a strict no-visual-metaphor policy.

And then Lane Pryce gets punched in the face because of interracial dating a Playboy bunny. By his old British father, no less. Hope the old man doesn’t live long enough to see Save the Last Dance. Then Lane makes Joan a sea captain or head of operations or something. Then the internet makes a GIF of Joan’s bottom. They should add two more frames to that GIF of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s head exploding.  And then a few frames of Bell Biv Devoe not trusting her. I guess she’s about to have Roger Sterling’s baby and act like it’s her husband’s. Does everyone on this show have a secret baby or a secret about a baby?

Oh, and Peggy gets licked on the face by her lesbian arty friend. Tastes like determination to succeed in advertising, I bet. Or not telling anyone in the office about her secret baby. I like that her and Don are best of friends now, enough to throw up in the bathroom together and fall asleep drunkenly on the couch together and oops wait a minute Don just married his secretary Megan never mind friendship DOWNGRADED.

Megan is so cute, speaking French and going on vacation with Don and stuff, going to be a shame when she gets Don Draper-ed next season, you can already see him planning it in the final shot of the last episode. Don looking out the window thinking, man I can’t wait to do some 1960’s style philandering on my French speaking secretary wife in the next season of Mad Men. Maybe I’ll get her pregnant with a secret baby.

Also, I like how Don’s daughter Sally got all this extra story and attention this year but Don’s son Bobby is still doing the acting equivalent of putting a pot on your head and banging it with a spoon. They had whole episodes about Sally going to therapy and making friends with a weird neighborhood kid and then they give Bobby five seconds of screen time so he can say, “I like spaghetti!” You sure do, kid. You sure, do.

Dexter | Season 4

Much like a guy in a gorilla suit in a Master P video, John Lithgow slam dunks his performance as the Trinity Killer with a basketball made of crazy into a hoop made of his sister’s ashes. Gold tank rolls onto court, confetti falls. Master P makes everyone say Uggghhhhhh.

Am I crazy or did Rita get hotter? She looks like she’d smell like coconut suntan lotion all the time. They should make perfume that smells like coconut suntan lotion. Or cologne, I guess. I mean, put some other fancy stuff in there to justify the outrageous price. Like tea leaves or gold shavings or fortunes from fortune cookies. And the fortune says, “You smell like coconuts.” And a monkey that can read thinks to himself, “It’s true.”

Old man serial-killer-hunter Lundy is back this season in a jaunty hat. Gotta tip your hat to a rakish hat. Especially if you’re wearing a rakish hat, too. Then you’re both tipping your hats in a Möbius strip of hat tipping. To you, sir. No, to you, sir. I insist, to you, sir! And so on. Until you’ve got two skeletons in rakish hats in mid-tip to one another, jaws open. The Dead Gentleman’s Hat Club. Sounds like a fun place to play cards. You’d play with coins from the underworld used to pay for safe passage into the land of the dead.

Speaking of passage from the land of the dead, Dexter’s dad pops up every five minutes in the form of a ghostly memory giving advice and being a general nag. He won’t leave Dexter alone for five minutes without saying some sourpuss shit. Dexter, don’t forget my code, Dexter hide that body, Dexter you’re juggling too many identities blah blah blah. Damn, bossy ass ghost. That’s “bossy-ass ghost” not “bossy ass-ghost”. What I want to know is, why does Dexter bother imagining him eating turkey dinner like the rest of his family and friends in the Thanksgiving dinner scene? If I thought about a deceased family member while riding on a roller coaster I wouldn’t imagine them riding the roller coaster with me. Or if I remembered something wise that Ben Franklin once said while I was having sex, I wouldn’t take the extra step of envisioning Ben Franklin there in the room spanking that ass. I guess that’s what an ass-ghost does.

Big Spoiler Alert

My good friend The Classless Chap not only spoiled the big twist at the end of the season, but he did so on Facebook. In his status update. I think the only way he could have done it more effectively is if he had hired a plane with the spoiler written on a banner streaming behind it to fly over the city. And paid the pilot extra to crash into my house so I’d be injured and have to go to the emergency room. And then bribed the nurse at the hospital to write the spoiler on my chart so it was the first thing the doctor reads out loud to me. And paid the doctor to legally change his name to Dr. Rita Dies so it was written on his lab coat. And then came to visit me in the hospital with a bouquet of flowers arranged to say The Trinity Killer murders Rita in the bathtub in the final episode. Wow. He’s really sinking a lot of money into spoiling Dexter Season 4 for me in this hypothetical situation.

Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you haven’t read this far. Unless you are that coconut-smelling reading monkey. To you, sir- I tip my hat, merely for your ability to read and your glamorous hat. No, to you, sir. I insist, to you, sir!! Looks like me and this monkey are going to be tipping our hats to one another for a long time. Here I come, Dead Gentleman’s Hat Club!

Party Down | Season Two

Oh, what a surprise. Another awesome beloved cult show has been canceled. I guess the head of programming was too busy inside his refrigerator box fort eating gummy bears and hitting his head with a tree branch over and over to give the show another season. You know what needs to happen is some wealthy playboy needs to make a television network and all it runs are new episodes of canceled shows that have cult followings. Fucking Firefly, Arrested Development, Angel, Party Down, Wonderfalls, Pushing Daisies, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., that show about the guy in the Winnebago on the run from his ex-wife with a monkey, Veronica Mars, Dead Like Me, Dollhouse and Andy Richter Controls the Universe. What’s that you say? The actors have all moved on to new shows?

Fill a scarecrow with straw, dress him up like Captain Mal Reynolds, put him on a cardboard spaceship and film that shit. Just for good measure, let’s go down to whatever Quantum Leap convention hotel room Scott Bakula and Dean Stockwell are sharing, bang some pots and pans together until they wake up, kick the naked women out of their bed and make some more episodes of one of the finest time travel shows ever made. Oh really they destroyed the prop you used for Ziggy? Well here’s an iPhone. Now fucking talk to it like it’s in the future. And put on this jumpsuit.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do when I want to see Lizzy Caplan being my idea of a perfect girlfriend (my own perfect girlfriend notwithstanding, of course)? Adam Scott will be fine, he’s on Parks & Recreation now so you know he’ll just get famouser but what about Martin Starr?! Somebody better snatch his awkward ass up for a role in a show that actually pays the bills and doesn’t suck.

My friend Kristina pointed out that it might be Fred Savage’s fault- according to imdb he’s been involved with more than a few canceled shows. So if you ever get into TV, no matter how much you might want his input, don’t let Fred Savage on your project lest you suffer his kiss of death. Also, don’t let him into your house for a regular kiss. Unless you are Winnie Cooper. AND YOU AREN’T.

Anyway, go watch this show on Netflix while you can before it’s not available for instant streaming any more and becomes like the ancient text on the wall of a pharaoh’s pyramid— not available for instant streaming.

The Office | Season Six

So Pam and Jim had a baby, huh. We have a baby in the office where I work. We call him Spacebaby. He’s a plastic doll and he’s the filthiest thing you ever saw. Sometimes we put a lamp over his head and pretend he’s getting his hair done. We made a rule, too- nobody can touch that baby. Except his wife. And his boyfriend. That’s right- Spacebaby is freaky. But only on the weekends. He calls them “freak-ends”.

Michael Scott starts up an illicit affair with the married manager of a sports bar this season. For some reason she finds him irresistible. Earlier today I tried to use the word “irresistible” and said “un-resistible” instead. You’re welcome, Dictionary King.

Kevin gets compared to the Cookie Monster, in an unflattering fashion. I’m an Oscar the Grouch man, myself. He’s green, he’s fuzzy, he lives in a studio trash can, he’s a grouch. I’d like to see Oscar walking around more, though. Maybe in a dress shirt, tie and suspenders. A dressed up Grouch for modern times.  But I guess anyone living in a trash can doesn’t have a suit lying around.

Dwight Schrute signs a contract to make a baby with Angela but then Pam’s attractive friend Isobel finds him un-resistible for reasons beyond my comprehension so he tries to get out of it. So I’m to believe, The Office, that Dwight is so desirable that a beautiful woman would wade into his baby contract baggage to kiss his (forgive me for saying, but) strange and off-putting face?

I once read an article in the 90’s in Details magazine about how some women will have sex with ugly men because of their sexual prowess and their primal, hairy-knuckled charm. There were all these testimonials from women along the lines of, “his brow was sloped and he had a potbelly and his back was covered in hair but he was dynamite in the sack!” Yeah, maybe the sack you filled with dynamite and stuffed him in before you threw it off a cliff.

Dunder Mifflin is purchased by printer company Sabre. Kathy Bates plays their CEO. She’s got two big dogs. Hey it’s the end of the paragraph! What are you doing here so soon?

Andy romances Erin the secretary this season. She’s as cute as a button. What if you put an already cute button on the tip of a baby kitten’s nose? Does it somehow become cuter? Do you have to amend your statement? “She’s as cute as a button on the tip of a baby kitten’s nose.” What if the baby kitten with the button on his nose fell asleep in a teacup? Now what do you say?

“I’d tap that.” That’s what you say. “That” of course referring to “that ass”, not the kitten dozing in a teacup. Though I suppose you could gently tap the kitten on its fuzzy head until it wakes up and groggily blinks its eyes at you.

Maybe I should get a cat.

Parks and Recreation | Season Two

My original synopsis of Parks and Recreation was “government shenanigans in a park”. Does a senator soliciting sex in a park bathroom count as “shenanigans”?  I bet if you got caught with a prostitute in a park and the police started chasing you it would be handy to have a little iPod with the Benny Hill music queued up. Guess a guy looking for hookers in a park isn’t thinking about props for a comedy bit, though.

Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler) is a sweetly naive bureaucrat with a love of local government. Nick Offerman plays her breakfast-loving supervisor Ron Swanson. I was going to write that Aziz Ansari’s character Tom Haverford is a “loveable sleaze” but once again, my powers of description have failed me because portly wheelchair-bound pornographer Larry Flynt is a loveable sleaze, not Aziz Ansari. I guess he’s more of a lusty schemer. What the hell? Apparently I am trying to writing a community theater play set in a brothel, with these character descriptions.

How cute is Aubrey Plaza’s character April? Unfortunately, you can’t date a TV show character, no matter how long you hold your TV up in a lightning storm and hope you get zapped into the television like Captain N. Even if you did get magically transported into a television show, what if it was the wrong one? You’re trying to end up in HBO’s True Blood so you can kiss a vampire and next thing you know you’re in Law & Order Special Victims Unit getting sexually assaulted.  I’ll keep my TV in the living room, thanks, and my dimensional portals closed.

Maybe I also have a crush on the actress Aubrey Plaza, come to think of it. She was pretty beguiling (thanks thesaurus!) in the movie Funny People.  Hope my girlfriend doesn’t mind all this crush talk. I never got that thing where two people who are dating give each other a pass if they get a chance to have sex with a celebrity. Celebrities aren’t gossamer angels with healing sex powers. A famous person is no different than you or I, except they have a golden ticket to have sex with your significant other if you’re an idiot blinded by fame.

So if a famous person tries to seduce you- say, “No Thanks! I’m with somebody, Angelina Jolie! Stay back, Morgan Freeman, I’m monogamous!  Keep it in your pants, James McAvoy!” Oh wait, that’s just the cast of Wanted. Feel free to sleep with them.

Seriously, though, Parks and Recreation is an excellent well-written comedy with a strong ensemble cast and you’d be remiss to not watch it. You’d think I could have skipped all that celebrity sex stuff and just twittered that sentence, but here we are, two ships in the night, me reviewing a television show, you reading about it, and Morgan Freeman out there somewhere in the darkness, trying to hit on your girlfriend.

Community | Season One

Well, it looks like Community has found a strong audience in its first year. In fact, the last time I saw someone get this excited about something with Community in the title was at the Hamburglar’s trial when he got community service instead of jail time for manslaughter and non-specific hamburger crimes.

A lot of people thought Joel McHale couldn’t make the transition from The Soup to a more traditionally formatted sitcom. A lot of people thought Chevy Chase would never be in a successful comedy at all for the rest of his days. A lot of people look like little bitches now.

According to Wikipedia, which is legally bound to never lie to you even if you ask if it got to second base at summer camp with any cute boys, a “Doubting Thomas” is a term that is used to describe someone who will refuse to believe something without direct, physical, personal evidence; a skeptic. Turns out it’s from the Biblical account of Thomas the Apostle, who didn’t believe that Jesus rose from the dead. “Let me see those wounds, Jesus!” he said.

Well, all you doubting Thomas-es can STFU as far as Community is concerned, because it has um…shown you its…er..wounds…I guess this analogy is falling apart before my very eyes, just like the prosecuting attorney’s case in Pickle Mustard v. Hamburglar.

Speaking of lawyers, Joel McHale plays Jeff Winger, a lawyer who has to go to community college because he faked his law degree and got caught. He becomes best friends with his Spanish study group. The theme song sounds like a commercial for a ladies shoe sale at Target. Makes me want to put on a sundress and save 15% on a pair of flip flops. Oh- and, speaking of flip flops, I’m wearing a two dollar pair on the beach right now and just taking the time to tell you to go watch Community in the middle of my vacation is like stopping heart surgery to tell someone to go have a crush on a hot girl that likes Star Wars.

Today I rode a boogie board with a dolphin wearing sunglasses on it in the ocean. You know who else wears sunglasses? Joel Mchale. Go watch Community, it’s like riding a dolphin wearing sunglasses.

Doctor Who Season 4

This review contains spoilers.

In Season 4 a skeleton in a space suit fights Doctor Who in the universe’s biggest library. Last time I had a run-in with a skeleton in a library it was inside a librarian’s body and she was shushing me. Good thing for Doctor Who skeletons don’t have ears. Though I do like the idea of ears of bone. Very lyrical, almost. ‘You can’t hear me on the phone/with those ivory ears of bone/I’m calling about an ice cream cone’. That song needs work, I think.

Later in the season Doctor Who shoots a laser into a giant robot’s mouth from a hot air balloon just to change a woman’s mind. Wish I could win an argument with a laser. I don’t want to eat sushi I want fried chicken tacos! Zip zap Zoop! (Huh- that sounds less like a laser and more like Bill Cosby wants a taco.)

Doctor Who’s new companion Donna is a secretary who got hijacked into the TARDIS on her wedding day. She likes to drink beer and flirt with men. She’s like one pint away from mashing her breasts together and yelling “OOH Have a look then!” She’s clearly the best of all the Doctor Who companions so far.

She and the Doctor go to the planet of the Ood. The Ood are docile slaves to humans and apparently sell like hotcakes, even though they look like bug eyed monstrosities with tentacles for mouths. I’m not saying you have to win a beauty contest to bring a millionaire his filet mignon, but nobody wants to tuck in to a fancy dinner with a wrinkly old sea monster lurking around the table like a weirdo.

Did I mention they go crazy and their eyes turn as red as Lucifer’s beard?

The Doctor frees all the Ood from slavery. He’s like the Harriet Tubman of gross cephalopods. An Ood even sings to him when Doctor Who is flailing around in the snow about to die. Oh great, just what I want to hear as I’m breathing my last. A gray skinned nightmare is singing a tune for me.

Daleks pull off the greatest robbery of all time by stealing a bunch of planets for their reality killing machine, even Earth! Who cares!! I hate every episode that the Daleks are in! I can’t tell you how disappointed I am to see their dumb metal eye cameras or whatever they see with.

Doctor Who gets a human clone of himself and leaves it with his old companion Rose from the first season so they can be in love together and he can fuck off on his adventures. Here you go, that ought to shut you up. Here’s a clone of me to grow old and die with.

Ladies, Doctor Who will do anything to get out of being your boyfriend. Pretty soon he’s going to stuff some straw in a burlap sack, wrap it in a pinstriped suit, stuff it in a blue cardboard box and that’s who you’ll introduce your parents to, a scarecrow Doctor Who in a cardboard TARDIS.

What do you know, the President of the Time Lords pops in for a surprise visit. He wears a robe and a big crazy hat and carries a staff. I guess even though Time Lords wear normal clothes they have to dress up like wizards to hold an office. I had a nerd freak out when I realized his electricity shooting glove was the companion to the glove that brings people back from the dead in Torchwood. And then I realized I was getting excited about fictional gloves. Guess that was his murderin’ glove.

The Time Lords have an evil plan to live outside of time so they decide to destroy time for everyone everywhere. On the plus side, everybody’s Netflix movies would arrive all at once instead of sitting in the queue with the words LONG WAIT next to them.

When the President of the Time Lords shows up on Earth the first thing out of his mouth is, “On your knees humanity!” Ok, but you better take humanity out to Applebee’s later, and humanity gets to order any appetizer it wants.

Doctor Who takes a big blast of radiation to the face (I’ll have the Mozzarella Sticks and the Boneless Buffalo Wings) so that means he’s gotta die and regenerate a whole new face and personality. He goes around for a solid half hour saying goodbye to everybody he knows, solemnly nodding and waving farewell to all his friends. David Tennant was lucky to get such an elaborate sendoff, Christopher Eccleston barely got a boot in the butt on the way out.

Then he regenerates into Matt Smith, a gangly young man with a pleasantly lopsided face and fancy hair. Sorry Matt Smith, didn’t mean to describe you like a forest ogre with a cave full of hair care products. Swatting at wizards with a tree trunk— RARRR Let go of my Herbal Essences!