1201 South Park Tonsil Trouble

(SPOILER ALERT) South Park returned triumphantly this evening for their 12th season. And it did not disappoint. In what should’ve been a routine tonsil removal for Eric Cartman turned out disastrously as a botched blood transfusion infected young Eric with the AIDS virus. Given Eric’s sociopathic tendencies, one should not be surprised that, after endless taunting on the Jew’s part, Eric decides to infect him with the AIDS virus as well. Hilarity ensued with a number of AIDS jokes that ninety percent of humanity would find utterly tasteless, but that I found to be “crap-your-pants” funny. (Hey, temporary incontinence is a perfectly natural side effect of my recent procedure). Easily the funniest part of the episode is whenever Eric Cartman was afforded the opportunity to prove the severity of his convictions on a given subject, he would interject “I’m not just sure, I’m HIV positive.” Brilliant!

Matt Stone and Trey Parker seemed to include more background music than usual for comedic effect, in addition to “foreground music” most notably two Jimmy Buffet cameos, in which he played some of his classics like “AIDSburger in Paradise” and “Wasting Away Again Because of AIDS and Stuff.”

-One of the recurring themes throughout the episode revolves around people’s apathy towards AIDS. Cartman continually encounters obstacles because other folk feel that cancer is a more serious disease and that AIDS is “very retro.” In order to get a free seat on a plane in order to see Magic Johnson (the holder of the cure for AIDS), Eric and Kyle originally inform the stewardess that they have AIDS, but receive little sympathy. They then claim to have “all-over cancer” and are promptly given free tickets to Los Angeles.

-The “cure” for AIDS ends up being $180,000 in liquid form injected into the bloodstream. I personally thought Matt and Trey could’ve done more with a “cure for AIDS.” Perhaps a joke about Magic Johnson’s promiscuity, like the only way to get rid of AIDS is…contract it again. Or something about making out with Isiah Thomas

-This is not the first time South Park has used AIDS as a vehicle for humor. Most notably in season 6, Jared of Subway fame admits that the only way he was able to shed all those pounds was because he “got aides.” What he meant is he had hired personal trainers to help him lose weight, but because he would only phrase the statement as “got aides,” the citizens of South Park misunderstood him and reacted violently. Good times.

-I was impressed with this episode, and its good to see the creators are still not afraid to pull any punches. Though this will not go down as a top 10 episode by any means, its definitely got a couple of hearty cackles in it. For those of you who haven’t seen it or would like to watch it again, it’ll be up on this website in a couple of days.

Will Domenico Find True “Amore?”

Domenico Nesci of Tila Tequila fame saw his own dating reality TV show “That’s Amore” debut this week. Unfortunately for the likeable Domenico, he will always be in the shadow of his petite predecessor. Tila Tequila’s “A Shot at Love” was one of the most successful reality programs in cable television history (despite being a complete sham) because it redefined the concept of the elimination dating show. The original incorporated the aspect of bisexuality which created a show that was not only about the pursuit of romantic fulfillment, but inherently a battle of the sexes. Given the American public’s simultaneous ignorance and curiosity towards bisexuality, it is not surprising that a seemingly realistic perspective on this sexual persuasion captured our imaginations.

“That’s Amore” looks to latch onto the coattails of the popular “A Shot at Love.” However, because of its ‘unisexual’ orientation, “That’s Amore” lacks the not-so-secret ingredient that made Mademoiselle Tequila’s show so remarkable. In other words, Domenico is unlikely to mesmerize the audience in the trance-like fashion that the Vietnamese-American starlet did. This is not to argue that “That’s Amore” is doomed to failure; actually, the diminutive Italian has a couple of things going for him. First, the protagonist has already been humanized. The majority of viewers already feel a connection with Domenico, as they feel as if they understand him after his tragic journey on Tila Tequila. Viewers are able to empathize with his heartbreak and already relate to this quirky, yet sensitive young man. Previous elimination date shows (such as the Bachelor) often struggled to make their drone-like, uber-handsome male central characters anything more than a dashing playboy: a problem that this show’s producers won’t have to grapple with. Furthermore, in every dating show, there’s the pervasive suspicion that the show is nothing but an elaborate charade. Because of the viewers’ previous experience with Domenico, the overwhelming sentiment is that he’s genuinely on the lookout for love with an all-American girl, not only because he’s a hopeless romantic, but also because he needs a green card.

The show’s ex-factor comes in the form of another previous contestant on “A Shot at Love”, Ashli, who infamously, after his elimination, a) tried to break back into the house, b) mournfully cried “Tila, I looooove you!” and c) broke his foot after kicking a potted plant out of frustration. Domenico nominated Ashli as his consigliere or “advisor” in Italian. Ashli is not the most intelligent of creatures and notoriously has little command of the Italian language (it wasn’t until the second episode of “A Shot at Love” that he could pronounce Domenico’s name and consigliere is a work in progress). My major qualm with this appointment is that Ashli has the look of a man who has just realized that his 15 minutes of fame has been extended to 30. Ashli could theoretically increase the comedy factor of the show three fold with his redneck humor (“she’s nuttier than a Port-A-Potty at a peanut festival) and his butchering of Italiano, or, conversely, his desire to remain in the limelight could result in endlessly dull kitsch.

What we can count on is MTV exploiting American stereotypes of Italian people. This most palpably manifested itself when Domenico explained in front of an array of hanging meats and an Italian banner that fifteen scantily clad American women would dive into a pool twenty feet in diameter filled with spaghetti and meatballs in order to win a plastic Italian flag that represented the key to his heart. Furthermore, it became painfully obvious in the first episode that most Americans without Italian lineage are woefully uninformed of what constitutes genuine Italian culture, as many of the young women attempted to communicate with Domenico in Spanish (“buenas noches”). In a later episode, Domenico will take a few of the women to meet his family in Italia, which I figure to be the series’ pinnacle for unintentional comedy.

In addition to the requisite bickering amongst the female contestants that is synonymous with “reality dating show”, the cultural shortcomings of the young women, Ashli’s folksy demeanor, and Domenico’s good-hearted humor, “That’s Amore” should indeed be entertaining television. However, if you’re looking for groundbreaking television, go rent “The Wire.”

French Television, Beware: Unintentional Comedy Only

French television is unequivocally awful, (The lone exception is Fort Boyarde where contestants participate in challenges for an hour in a seaside castle in hopes of winning treasure). The precursor to America’s Deal or No Deal was actually a Dutch show, but the French show existed prior to the American one, entitled A Prendre ou à Laisser. I’ll never forget the first time I watched it about four years ago. On the French version, they have one contestant from each of the twenty-two regions of France. They pan to a big screen with a map of France (divided into the twenty-two regions) and the computer arbitrarily highlights one section of the map. The person from this region is automatically the contestant. And if there is one thing I like more than Korean Pop, it’s geography; so, I decided to keep watching, assuming there would be some geographical twist at the end. Not only is there no geography involved, there is no strategy involved either. It is just a glorified guessing game that drags on for a whole hour. This is the worst kind of mindless shit on all of television (given my girth, I’m obviously a man who knows his television). At least shows like “Moment of Truth” and “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?” serve as a sort of microcosm of America (that Americans are willing to sacrifice invaluable relationships with loved ones for fifteen minutes of fame and a bit of cash and that the majority of America never reads and is not afraid to go on national television and demonstrate this fact, respectively). After seeing the French version of Deal or No Deal, I became so disillusioned with television, that I refused to watch for a week, aghast at what I’d witnessed, and terrified that I watched anymore there would be irreversible damage to my intellect. It remains my longest self-imposed break from television to date.

-In addition to spawning Deal or No Deal’s predecessor, France is also responsible for one of American Idol’s precursors called Star Academy. I don’t watch “Idol,” for obvious reasons, and I consciously avoid Star Academy as well (I do watch Eurovision though, but that has nationalist implications. Not to mention its rigged in Ireland’s favor J ), but it was on last night at the kebaberie so I watched for a few minutes. Star Academy is slightly different, because they often bring stars on to perform with contestants. Invariably, the accomplished star overpowers the rising one and the level of talent of the fledgling artist is hard to gauge. Last night, Ms. Kylie Minogue came on to perform…but with a dude! Kylie is IMPOSSIBLE to sing for team Y chromosome (and believe me, I’ve tried). Though Ms. Minogue’s physical appearance has deteriorated significantly (she’s like fifty at this point) since her peak years (think Bio-Dome), she put on a magnificent rendition of “Love at First Sight,” a cheesily addictive, though utterly trite pop song (I’m going with my gut and assuming that Kylie was not embracing ironic detachment and mocking the pop genre as a whole when she wrote “The stars came out and filled up the sky/the music you were playing really blew my mind/it was love at first sight/cause baby when I saw you/for the first time I knew/we were meant to be as one.”) The contestant, however, might as well have been a backup singer. Not only was his voice way too weak to compete with Kylie’s, he was unable to annunciate any of the English words properly, making for a truly atrocious performance (the only decent performance on Star Academy was when that one chick did the acoustic version of Parce Qu’on Vient de Loin with Corneille, which was absolutely sick, but that remains the exception to the rule). If they started making American Idol contestants sing in a foreign tongue, THEN I would start watching for that would constitute the ultimate in high comedy. Star Academy does have one redeeming quality: the host. He puts Ryan Seacrest to absolute shame. Evidently, the word molestation does not translate into French, because this guy was all over Kylie. When he went in for bissous (the kisses on the cheek), his lips definitely grazed hers. After that, one hand remained on her waist, while the other was interlocked with hers, and he refused to let go. I just wish I hadn’t been that guy in high school.

In Need Of A Television Commercial Parody, You Say?

We’ve all seen the seemingly omnipresent “Philawarapragacago” AT&T commercials, correct? (If you haven’t, here’s a link: http://www.commerciallygreen.com/2007/10/03/att-philaware-commercial-philawarepragueacago/) Well, I don’t have any problems with the concept, but they could definitely spice it up a bit. As opposed to some cookie-cutter, Northeastern prep student (don’t care, don’t care, don’t care), why not, oh, I don’t know, how the services of AT &T could be useful to an “import-exporter” with footage of his eccentric contacts in the background !

Keeping with the original formula, (anything in parentheses is going on in the background, me, the import exporter, would be in the foreground), it would start out: IE: I’m an “import-exporter.” I get my product from Medellin.

(A Pablo Escobar doppelganger snorts a line, then screams): Aaaaaaaaarriba!

IE: I’ve got my drug mules in Haiti…

(A black dude pooping a balloon, groaning): Putain des fissures anales..

IE: I have an arms dealer in Libya…

(A group of Arab insurgents with semi-automatic rifles held high above their heads, chanting): Allah al-Aqbar! Allah al-Aqbar! (Glory to Allah, roughly)

IE: I have a covert, untraceable bank account at the First Maritime Bank on Grand Cayman…

(An immaculately dressed banker): Mr. SOS, what a pleasant surprise, are you making a deposit today?

IE: And I’ve got a “foreign bride” business in Bangkok…

(Four Thai girls are in a cage, wailing): Bpròht ! (Heeeeelp!)

(A shoddily clad Thai man waddles to the cage, wielding a stick, simultaneously beating and berating): Yép-bpàak dòk tong! (Shut up, Whore!)

IE: That’s why I need a network that works where I live: a place called Medhaityagrandkok.

You know, my brother is in advertising, but, funny, he’s yet to offer me a job. Hmmmm…weird!

God Bless American Television

So, I watched the first episode of “The Moment of Truth.” And one of the supposedly difficult to answer questions was “Have you ever had a sexual fantasy while in mass?” Uhh, I thought that was the point of mass? Anyone who has EVER been to Dahlgren’s 11:15 pm service knows what I’m talking about. 11:15 mass was better for erectile dysfunction than Viagra. Ironically, the only time I actually recall NOT having sexual fantasies during mass was when a certain Taiwanese girl that I had a ginormous crush on asked to go with me, and I was trying way too hard to exemplify piousness to let my mind wander.

Animal Planet=Best Channel on Television.

I just watched a python swallow a gazelle whole. Guuuuuuuroooooss. If this is far too disgusting for you, give “Orangutan Island” a shot! It’s an island, teeming with…orangutans! And they have crazy adventures! For instance, in last week episode for example, two former enemies decided to reconcile their differences in order to steal bananas from a peasant. And an immature orangutan while swinging branch to branch decided that, instead of avoiding a venomous steak, it would be far more amusing to hit the snake multiple times until it fell into the water. The New York Post claims that “Orangutans are the new Meerkats.” Whoah, didn’t see multiple meerkat references coming, did you?

Really?

While watching playoff football this weekend, CBS informed me that Two and a Half Men is America’s number one comedy. If this is actually the case, I take back everything I said about the terrorists.

Tiiiila, I luuuurve you!

Given that I’m unemployed, every morning I leisurely read the paper online for a couple of hours. As I’m skimming the “top 10 most emailed headlines” on the International Herald Tribune’s webpage, much to my surprise, I stumble across this headline: “Tila Tequila and Bobby Banhart Call It Quits; Second ‘Shot at Love’ Season Announced.” A flurry of emotions swirled in my head! I incredulously stared at the computer screen, unable to believe that Tila Tequila was making headlines in one of the world’s most reputable papers. Given my disdain for reality tv shows, one would think that I was furious, correct? Incorrect! I was ecstatic that the IHT also apparently subscribes to the theory that all reality TV is mindless drivel except shows involving Vietnamese bisexuals!
On a more serious note (ok that’s the most misleading transition in the history of ‘blogging’), where does Tila go from here? During the first season, there were a number of reports indicating the show was a sham, but the hopeless romantic in all of us secretly wanted it to be ‘real.’ By the third to last episode, it was painfully evident that Mademoiselle Tequila’s thirst for love would be satiated by no one within a hundred meter radius of Tila, not the horse, not the fromagedick, and definitely not the fireman. It became apparent that this show was nothing more than pageantry, nothing but an egregious ratings ploy, inflating numbers by appealing to the single, horny 18-40 male demographic (ding ding, mission accomplished!). In light of this week’s developments, we the viewers have learned that “A Shot at Love” was unequivocally a sham when Bobby informed multiple media outlets that “she (Tiiiiiila) never called me after the last show and no one would give me her number.” Classy. Here’s my question: will Shot at Love Part Deux be anywhere near as popular since everyone and his pet orangutan knows that Tila will not actually end up with whichever douchebag/douchebaguette/douchebagenderneutral that is selected? Or will people watch because Tila will continue to parade around in next to nothing and make out with mediocre looking lesbians? Probably the latter. God Bless America.
And finally, adorable Domenico (think a jovial Ale) and his ‘consigliere’ Ashli (of “Tiiiiiila, I loooove you!” fame) get their own spin off. Like Ale, Domenico needs a green card, so this one’s gonna be for realz!

Real Word: Time for a Facelift!

The other night was the season finale of Real World: Sydney. I watched the first few episodes, but the cast was particularly bland, and given that I saw very little conflict potential, so I turned to other, more satisfying pursuits like waxing my back hair and watching celebrity pornos (hello Kim Kardashian!). The first thing that stood out was the cast, for the first time in recent memory, there was neither a man of the African American persuasion, nor one of the liking other dudes persuasion. I was baffled that the casting execs had focused on only one color of the rainbow. How very un-21^st century, MTV. Well I checked back in midseason, and it became a little more transparent what MTV’s intentions were: they put a Jew, a Moslem, and an uber-Christian in the house to try and stir up a rittre rerigious diarogue. Unfortunately, they didn’t count on the former two being in the “dormant” phase of their religious existences. The only one who wanted to join the “marketplace of ideas” was the Evangelical terrorist Trisha who embraced the role of the eight year old in the aforementioned forum, using arguments like “I’m a Christian, and that makes me better than you, (putting her finger in her ears) la, la, la, I can’t hear you, la, la, la…” Wow, MTV, this religious diversity thing was as good an idea as the Cultural Revolution.

-Let’s face it, the Real World formula has become a little stale. And I blame geography. It always takes place in a dynamic city where English is spoken (I contest that Paris is an English speaking city as I heard more English in Paris than I did in Sydney) in a pleasant neighborhood in close proximity to a number of legitimately cool watering holes teeming with adoring groupies. I say they need to revamp the recipe completely. Let’s try a less salubrious locale, why not Real World: Damascus! The promos would be great!“Next week on the Real World, KellyAnn is stoned for wearing a short-sleeved shirt in public, while Dunbar narrowly avoids a suicide bomb, and Shauvon takes offense to being called the Great Satan (Background)”Satan would not dress this fabulously.” Or even better, Real World: Kinshasa! “Next week on the Real World, drunk Isaac provokes a street battle between pro-Kabila and rebel forces. And, which cast member gets impaled by a bayonet? Tune in next week to find out!” Though I think the above are great ideas, I’m also a sadist. Perhaps a show that would work that doesn’t overtly encourage the death of Realworldians, yet would still be utterly amusing and simultaneously degrading and mocking of the attention-craving participants…Real World: Bangkok! Booze, Narcotics, Sex Shows, Trannies! The potential is astronomical! “Next week on the Real World, the gang experiences their first ping pong show, Parisa has a run-in with the Stray Elephant Task Force (This actually exists! ), Dunbar discovers that the prostitute he has solicited is a pre-op transsexual, and which cast member has an AIDS scare after rawdogging a Thai hooker? Find out next week on the Real World!” This is why I’m not a television executive.

(WRITTEN JANUARY 15, 200

XO XO, Gossip Girl!

So, I’m no longer a big TV watcher, but Wednesday was an exception. I watched four hours worth of the boob tube as my father likes to call it, including Gossip Girl, Univision’s local and national new, Korean Full House, and the Real World. I’m officially the weirdest person you know. And quite possibly the gayest.

For those of you who also rove Gossip Girl (aka my two female readers), this web site kind of redefined my life

(WRITTEN JANUARY 15, 200