Sam, Jason and resident Imperial Trouble Whovian Beau Brown review the Doctor Who Season Finale. Other topics include the Air Bud canon, the terrible fate of Sam’s former website The Police Box and the sitcom Designing Women.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
Torchwood is the best science fiction show I will never ever be able to convince my girlfriend to watch. As the British say, it is really “posh” and “spot on” and “crumpets” and “bangers and mash”. I got that right, didn’t I? I’d hate it if the queen was reading this review and spit her tea out into her Union Jack teacup because I mixed up some colloquialisms.
Torchwood is a spin off of the new Doctor Who, and is the more serious and sober of the two- not a difficult feat because Doctor Who is completely and utterly bananas.
The first season starts with a British policewoman named Gwen Cooper stumbling onto a guy getting brought back from the dead by Captain Jack Harkness and his Torchwood crew. She can’t let go of what she’s seen, so she keeps showing up at their headquarters even though they try to wipe her memory. Eventually they relent and teach her the secret handshake and before you can say “Oh ‘ello there” in a cheery British accent she’s ghost riding the Torchwood whip, so to speak, along with her new pals Owen Harper the bachelor doctor, Toshiko “Tosh” Sato the shy technology expert and Captain Jack- the bisexual unkillable American con man from the distant future with a dapper ass coat. Not to mention Ianto the tea-fetcher/butler, who plays Alfred to Captain Jack’s Batman, if Alfred and Batman constantly made out.
I have to take my hat off to the BBC- it’s nice to see strong gay characters in any medium of fiction that aren’t being stereotyped, though the last time I saw this much guy on guy kissing in science fiction was the gay space porno my great-great-great-great grandson produces and directs in the year 3000. (In the year 3000 every citizen is required by law to produce and direct at least one gay space porno.)
The only thing that bothers me about Torchwood is: they keep acting like these extraterrestrial visitors called Weevils are the living embodiment of hate and malice and aggression. Torchwood members are always running around macing these things in the face with special Weevil calming spray, and the Weevils are always trying to tear their flesh apart with their teeth.
But for some reason Weevils wear these neat little dark navy blue jumpsuits. Clean, uniform jumpsuits. So there’s this alien race that fell through a dimensional rift with only one murderous thought in their heads, but they also manage to have a textile industry? So they have two thoughts in their heads- murder and stitching up a sharp little outfit.
In addition to fashion conscious razor-fanged monsters, Torchwood is notable for featuring more cursing, sex, death and uncertainty than Doctor Who.
So if you’ve ever said to yourself ‘I wish I could watch something super British and science fiction-y like Doctor Who only people say the f-word and die in it’, then your wish just got granted and then sat around waiting on DVD for three years waiting on you to find out about it.