"They're like real richified"

I have found the trashiest show on television. It has nothing to do with sex or infidelity or gross eating in the wilderness. It resides on the Spike Channel. When I worked for a film festival, Spike was one of the sponsors and to me it was Latvia or Uzbekistan - a very foreign country, a man cave of entertainment where I would find plenty to scare me off. Here are some of Spike’s shows: 1000 Ways To Die - no metaphors here: OCD-er dies cleaning; terrorist eats himself to death; animal abuser gets dog boned; two cons get a fatal case of road rash ... you get the picture. MANswers; Hooters Snow Angels, Deadliest Warrior. The men in these shows (the leads, the extras, cameos) have sun-bronzed arms and wear faded tee shirts and worn jeans. The hosts ride in trucks, lift heavy things show an interesting camaraderie sometimes based on insults and generally act manly.

The show that held me spellbound recently because it lacked even a token nod to good taste was called: RepoGames. The premise of RepoGames has Josh, the Repo Man arriving with a tow truck in somebody’s driveway ready to repossess a car or truck. Do I need to add that the owner is less than pleased to hear and see that hitch lifting his car off the ground? After the pandemonium of expletives and shadow punching dies down, Josh says, “I’m going to ask you five questions. If you get three right, you get to keep your car and I’ll pay off what you owe.

The hapless victim (in this case a shirtless and shoeless man named Wilbur) surrounded by the army of people who live with him/her grunts and calms down. We soon learn that Wilbur has eight children by three baby mamas that he has not married. His teen-aged son stands next to him ready to help him answer. Intermittently, out of joie de vie or nervousness, he pinches his father’s nipple. I won’t re-create the entire show but this one question will tell you all you need to know.
Josh: What are names of Barack Obama’s two daughters.
Wilbur: Who’s that man?
Wilbur’s son: (grinning in disbelief) Barack Obama. The president.
Josh: Have you ever voted?
Wilbur: No.
Josh: Do you know the names of Barack Obama’s daughters?
Wilbur: Vanessa?
Wilbur’s son: That’s white people’s name. They’re like real richified. What comes to mind is Destiny and Maria. Yes, Destiny and Maria.
Josh: Incorrect. The names are Sasha and Malia. Wilbur shake it off now. Shake off the dumbest answer I’ve ever heard. (to Wilbur’s son) Did you just tweak your father’s nipple?

In the end, Wilbur only got one answer right. After appearing to be in a fog for most of the segment, he came to life with a question about a show hosted by Jeff Foxworthy and answered crisply: “Are you smarter than a 5th grader.” His son was ecstatic and tweaked his nipple and playfully punched him several times.
Alas, one right answer did not win the game. Josh and Craig with the repossessed car (a 1997 Honda Accord) roar away while Wilbur and his son shout after them: “*#%@*# I played your dumb ass game. Who knows Obama’s daughters’ names?”

So while the pundits argue back and forth about Barack Obama’s ability to govern, Wilbur (from Dallas, Texas) had to be reminded he was the president and his son thought the Obama family had become real richified.
I love television.

"Mary liked to pour gravy on John's ____"

I’m ashamed of everything I watch on television. If anyone walks in while I’m watching my lowbrow shows, I say, “Oh, my god, can you believe this drivel is still on the air?” If Cablevision hadn’t retooled my “Family” level and deleted the Game Show Channel, I would be watching a 1969 version of The Match Game with Gene Rayburn, Charles Nelson Reilly and Rip Taylor while President Obama was addressing the nation. The Match Game questions could be folksy “Name a kind of muffin,” or risqué: “Mary liked to pour gravy on John’s ______. “

I miss re-runs of Deal or no Deal so much, I watched the Spanish version Vas O No Vas on Telemundo where the contestants are not as chubby as the English version where most weighed three hundred pounds. I have about eight Spanish stations and six selling channels and Cablevision never takes them away because of a bandwidth shortage. I’ve been known to watch HSN when nothing else is on especially when Wolfgang Puck is cooking and saying "Look at that." every other second. If you ever want to feel better about yourself listen to the testimonial calls from “happy” customers when HSN is selling plus sized jersey tunics with palazzo pants in fuchsia.

When I’m at someone else’s house and Wheel of Fortune comes on and they say: I don’t mind Jeopardy but I will not watch this,” I enter my alternate universe where I wear high heeled shoes and good undergarments and tap my well groomed nails on counter tops. I roll my eyes in agreement and make a face. In other words, I abandon myself at the first alarm. If I were a prisoner of war and asked to reveal all the war secrets or be water tortured I would squeal like Porky Pig in about three seconds.

There are shows I watch to be annoyed. As I said earlier in the week. I watch, Morning Joe to be annoyed by Mika. I watch The O’Reilley Show to be annoyed by the titles he gives his segments: “Between Barack and a hard place” “Week-end at Bernie’s” “At your Beck and call” I watch Greta Van Susteren because she can’t quite speak, I like Greta but she leaves off the ends of words and they sort of slur together into barely recognizable communication. These last two shows repeat all through the night, which is when I come upon them.

Sometimes I venture to TBS and watch the fortieth re-run of Legally Blonde or The Holiday. I did this last night. The scene where Elle Woods decides that the pool boy is gay (he tells her snidely that she’s wearing last year’s Prada shoes,)and therefore couldn’t possibly be having an affair with the wife of the murdered man, is a fave.

I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of all I have to say about television, but I’ll leave the rest for another time.

Okay next blog will be on Lute Tablature. (Yes, there is such a thing.)