Satellite Radio Killed the Video Star (Part II)

Below are the top-rated Cable TV shows, week of Aug. 1, as per TV By The Numbers. (I am omitting the Disney shows. I am not a pervert.)

(2) The Closer: Chic lit brought to the small screen.

(3) Rizzoli & Isles: My working title for this show would have been Cagney & Lacy 2.0. This nostalgia trend is getting way out of hand. That being said, these two ladies act as well as Channing Tatum. (In case you didn’t catch the sarcasm, that’s not a good thing.)

(4) NASCAR at Pocono: It was waaaaaay better when it was the Winston Cup. Back in the mid ’90s the crowds were just so amazing, who cared about watching the races. But then the drivers went and became rock stars and now the (so-called) sport sucks. But then again, I’m from New York, I never watched it anyway.

(7) Burn Notice: Gabrielle Anwar is beautiful. The male lead literally looks like an uncircumcised penis. All I know him from is Hitch. How do these random actors get their jobs?

(9) Jersey Shore: Snooki and The Situation are the greatest gifts to television since Ed Sullivan and Walter Kronkite. I seriously will be buying the uncensored DVDs.

(10) True Blood: It’s about thisclose to jumping the shark. But so long as there are tits in every episode I won’t complain. I’ll still watch.

(11) WWE: Toomanyjokesbrainoverloadmalfunctionmalfunction. I miss Jimmy Superfly Snooka, Koko B. Ware and The Junkyard Dog. Those were the good ol’ days.

(12) Royal Pains: I caught a preview for this show during one of those shamefully self-promoting 20 minutes that air before a movie. Seemed like a decent concept for a show. And I always liked Mark Feuerstein, cuz he just looked like that typical nice Jew that you or I or anybody would be friends with. But then he went and lost 30 more pounds and now he looks like he’s going through chemo. Someone bring that dude to Five Guys. Stat.

(14) Deadliest Catch: Awesome.

(15) Covert Affairs: Aha! We may have our Male-Version-Mentalist!

Satellite Radio Killed the Video Star

I happen to love sitting on my ass watching TV as much as the next guy. In fact, it's how I got my pledge name in college. I love anything on History Channel, Discovery Channel, Travel Channel, Animal Planet and Food Network. Those are old standbys that I can fall back on at any time. Of course, I have the shows I love, and then there are those networks who create original programming that I will always give a shot to (HBO, Showtime, FX, A&E, AMC, even USA). But you know as well as I do most TV sucks. Especially the fact that we are inundating our airwaves—which the American public owns—with crap. Reality Show crap.

What’s reality about this stuff anyway? Watching rich people complain about their nannies and having to fix their Mercedes? Watching 16-year-olds starving for attention get knocked up? Witnessing celebrities crying their eyeballs out because they did one too many lines of cocaine? Hoping some stranger falls in love with another stranger in front of our eyes—over six weeks of taping? Please. I don't know about you but I'd rather find something better to do with my time than stare at obese 15-year-olds.

To prove my point, here are the top 15 broadcast television shows, by Nielsen rating (adults 18-49 demo), during the week ending July 25, as published in Entertainment Weekly (rankings in parentheses). This is telling …

(1,3) America’s Got Talent: Orrrrrrrrr not. Maybe a select few. It’s amazing people stay up that late to vote for their favorites. I usually fall asleep somewhere around the 40-minute mark. The good news is The Hoff isn’t on it anymore.

(2) The Bachelorette: Slutty, desperate women; men seeking the limelight. Sounds more like Skinemax to me. Either the show should move to midnight, or “Sexual Response” and the like should begin at primetime.

(4) NCIS: Does anybody watch this show? Apparently they do. But I have 647 friends on Facebook and NOT A SINGLE ONE watches this show. Seriously, how is it popular? How has it been on so long? I can’t name a single person on it and have no idea what it’s about. And I KNOW I’m not the only one.

(5, 6) Wipeout: Brought to America by way of Japan. What else can I say about Asians: Smart as fuck, stupid as shit. They invent great stuff—TV shows, cars, electronic gadgets, etc.—and can never use anything they create correctly. G-d bless ’em. (On a positive note, MXC was awesome!)

(7) The Big Bang Theory: Nerds were funny in high school. You could laugh at the things they did, you could make fun of them for any number of reasons, you could pick on them. Now they’re just annoying. Why would I devote 22 minutes to them?

(8) 60 Minutes: What do Twinkies, cockroaches and Andy Rooney have in common? I’m certain they are the three things that will survive the Apocalypse. Rooney may not actually be on TV anymore. It may seem that way, but it may be a re-recording. Ever notice he’s always using words like “dungarees” and “valise” and railing about what Coolidge will do to halt inflation?

(9) Two and a Half Men: Actually a pretty raunchy and funny show, judging by the four times I’ve watched it. But I hate it due to the fact that little shit kid makes like $750K an episode.

(10) The Mentalist: "Baywatch" for women. How come every show that’s based around a hot girl, but is generally terrible, gets canceled immediately (think “Dollhouse”), yet crappy shows with good looking men can go on and on for years and years? Because there are a lot of lonely women out there … with massagers from The Sharper Image, thanks to Samantha Jones.

(11, 14) Big Brother 12: I know as much about this show as I do about fractal geometry.

(12) NCIS: Los Angeles: Wait, you mean there’s another one? And Chris O’Donnell and LL Cool J are in it? And you’re sure we’re not really referring to House Party VII? I’m confused.

(13) Hell’s Kitchen: If I wanted to listen to someone yelling at me for an hour I’d either hop in my DeLorean, go back to 1996, and wait for my parents to come home after Parent/Teacher conferences, or I’d just throw on some Sam Kinison. At least he was entertaining.

(15) Criminal Minds: (Hold while I look up what the hell this is … Keep holding … Ok, got it.) So what I’ve gleaned from their website is, The characters look pensive, deep in thought, trying to tap into the ‘mind’ of a killer. They wear bulletproof vests. And they interrogate—a lot. So it’s Oprah.

All I have to say is, Thank G-D for books. And Internet porn!

Two Thumbs Down

It bothers me that movies cost $13.50. It bothers me that most of them are in 3-D and that you HAVE to pay for it in 3-D, yet most movies BLOW in 3-D. It bothers me that a small popcorn costs $6.50, when it costs the movie theater about 10 CENTS for the entire product. It bothers me that a small drink is like 48 ounces. For a SMALL! This is one reason why we are fat in America. It bothers me that a Dasani water is $4.50—and you have no choice but to pay it because most theaters don’t even offer a small anymore, just the large. Forget being ‘green’ for a second, it bothers me that the movies don’t blast the air conditioning like they used to. Especially in the hot-ass summer. Especially after I waited 20 minutes on line—outside—to get in. Why the hell else am I paying $13.50 to see a movie? To cool down, dick! It bothers me that the theaters keep getting bigger and bigger, the tickets get more and more expensive, and the screens get smaller and smaller. A few inches smaller and my living room TV will be the same damn size!

It bothers me that movies don’t even start on time anymore. It bothers me that I have to watch 20 minutes of commercials for Coca-Cola and TNT dramas that I fast-forward through on my home TV and that I’ll never watch anyway. It bothers me that half the previews that are shown in the theater are already playing on regular TV. It bothers me that when the pre-show crap finally ends and the movie should begin no one is ever there to start the projector so you’re stuck, waiting, wasting even more time because no one is ever there to push play.

It bothers me when inconsiderate people leave their jackets and bags on empty chairs. People sit in the aisles during a crowded showing because of these people. It bothers me when parents bring their kids to R-rated movies. It bothers me when parents bring their children to PG-rated movies at night. I’m sorry but your six-year-old should be sleeping by then, not watching Toy Story 3 in 3-D (which, incidentally, cost you an arm and a leg … and $6.50 for popcorn!). It’s even worse when these horrible parents let their kids run amok all over the theater. Some people should need a license to have kids, I’m telling you. And I want the authority to hand them out!

It bothers me when people text throughout the show. Bothers me to no end. Put the friggin’ phone down for two hours! I’m sorry, but Laqueshia getting her hair did for 11 hours is news that can wait! It bothers me when grandpa can’t hear squat, can’t follow along, so every five minutes he screams to his wife to explain what just happened to him. It bothers me when parents let their kids just keep on crying during the movie, instead of taking them outside. Hey, I screamed my head off during Black Beauty when I was young, but you know what my mom did? Took me to the damn lobby!

It bothers me when people kick my chair throughout the whole show. It bothers me when someone gets up during the movie and puts their hand on the back of my chair to steady themselves with no realization that they just threw me off balance and made me spill my 48-ounce SMALL drink on my lap! It bothers me when people are bad armrest sharers. Seriously, even if you are 412 pounds, you do not have the right to both armrests. Fat ass, learn how to share! It bothers me when you have teenagers behind you that don’t shut the fuck up. (And, yes, I realize I was one of them once.) And it bothers me when people refuse to throw their garbage out when movie theaters have garbage cans EVERYWHERE now. The cleanup is what makes me stand out in the damn heat for 20 minutes. Because Mr. Fat-Ass-Texter-Who-Won’t-Shut-The-Fuck-Up refused to throw out his 64-ounce drink and TUB of popcorn.

But mostly it bothers me that I still like going to the movies. However, I buy my tickets at Costco now: $15 for two tickets. That’s my little stick-it-to-the-man play.

Hairballs and fruit salad

There's a contest in my house to see who could shed the most hair ... between my wife and my cat. I'm not complaining; my wife's hair smells like fruit salad, and I have a very cool Siamese cat. But like in a Dashboard Confessional song: their "haaaaair is eeev-reee-wheeeeeerrrrreeeee!" I have cat hair on my underwear, because he usually sleeps in my underwear drawer, and I have my wife's hair in my underwear, because we wash our clothes together and it just gets inside there. It's a mystery of (probably not so complicated) physics.

But the cat is curious. You know that old observation where a dog will immediately stick his head out the window of a moving car but turns away if you blow in his face? Why is that? My cat, like most of 'em, loves running water. So we always let him drink from the faucet. He has a bowl of fresh water that sits on the floor for him every day, next to his food. But does he drink from it? Rarely. But if we left the toilet seat up he makes a beeline for the bowl. Why the hell is that? So strange. And friggin' disgusting!

Women ... can't live with 'em and they can't pee standing up. Cats ... well, just don't really have to live with 'em ... if it weren't for the women!

Multi-tasking my ass!

If you rear-end someone while driving your car, it is automatically your fault. If you are walking on the street and walk directly into the person in front of you it is no longer your fault. Fuck them.

Why, you ask? Because of walking and texting! Oh, I cannot stand it, as I'm sure many of you can attest to the nuisance it is. Especially on a busy New York street. Especiallier during rush hour when you are heading to the subway and the sidewalks are incredibly crowded. Especially to the especially power when it's hot as fuck out and we're all sweating our nuts off. (Side comment: Touching anybody else's sweat is the grossest thing imaginable. I'd rather find Ron Jeremy's pube in my salad!)

Anyone who is texting while walking is clearly a self-centered piece of shit. They are clearly not concentrating on where they are going, or on the speed they are traveling, and they undoubtedly slow their pace so as to concentrate on their (most likely meaningless) text.

I generally have a short temper, and while I don't look like much physically, when I get angry I get a look in my eye that is fierce. I am also relentless and scream like a black woman whose wig got knocked off in church by her piss-ant nephew. And while you never know what kind of crazy person you are walking next to on a city block, I still find it acceptable to give a woman/gay man (the most guilty offenders) a quick piece of my mind as I walk directly into her/his-her texting-fat-ass, as is what just happened to me outside the Levi's store on Lexington (right across from Bloomingdale's). I mean she looked at me like I was the asshole, like I should have been the one looking where I'm going. Um, excuse me, lady, but next time you have a problem, fucking look up! How would you like it if your dentist was reading Maxim while filling your rotting Mexican teeth with copper? The next time your son is arrested, how would you like it if my public defender brother decides to accidentally skip your kid's arraignment and send me instead?

Thought so!

From now on, New Yorkers would be much happier if A) those Freedom Towers finally got built B) The summer Hamptons crowd stayed permanently in the Hamptons and C) some of our stimulus money went to this here.

Next time I walk into someone because they are texting, I will immediately throw my phone at their head while simultaneously holding up this picture, to one of the coolest—and most useful apps—I've seen in awhile:

Growing Pains

Ah, to be young. The things we take for granted. Like living at home with your parents. The fridge is always stocked, laundry is free (and downstairs!), your mom will pick up the toiletries you need for you. Putting aside our teenage angst, and the I-can’t-wait-to-grow-up attitude, we really didn’t have it so bad.

(Heck, when I was in high school I'd put $10 of gas in my shitbox car and it would actually last the week! Touche.)

I don’t really mind being an adult now, it’s just I didn’t realize some of the good ways I had it before. Sometimes I’d gladly trade knowing I have to work 14 hours on a Friday for being 17 again, with a curfew. But so be it.

So now I find myself kind of rekindling my youth in unorthodox ways. How else do you explain my love—er, obsession—with sneakers. Sneakers are a big thing for me. I own A LOT of pairs of sneakers. I think it’s really because I never had the ‘cool’ kicks when I was a kid. They were just too expensive for my parents to buy me. They left my brother and I a budget of $40 to get a pair. That was tough at the sneaker store. I was lucky to find something decent at TJMaxx or Marshall’s. I’m not complaining, I wasn’t deprived, and I was only teased occasionally, rather than picked on (a rite of growing up, I feel), so it wasn’t an issue that made me bitter or anything. But I lived in a place where most of my friends were really spoiled. And so maybe I was a little envious of the material things they had. Hence, why I buy sneakers: I can afford them! If I want some Air Max 95’s or some Air Jordan III’s I can buy them for myself. It’s nice to have that freedom. The $100+ for sneakers luckily now takes me no time to earn; in high school it took like a week. So the cost is little but the satisfaction is great for me.

These creature comforts extend beyond my closet. And it’s always a little thing, something maybe you may take for granted. Honestly, good toilet paper! Can’t put a price on an honest mechanic, a good haircut and good toilet paper! My parents always used to buy that crap, frozen canned orange juice and that crap Scott tissue toilet paper. I convinced them half-gallons of Tropicana were the way to go, and I happily drank my yummy, non-watered-down juice from then on. But that toilet paper—to this day they still use that horrible, cheap toilet paper. I vow that poor excuse for a product will never enter my house again. Now that's a benefit of being an adult!

I recently started a new job, in a new office, a month ago. I'm comfortable here, but still settling in, feeling people out. And let’s just say I finally had to ‘christen’ the place last week. I was DYING the rest of the day. Good Lord I needed a Preparation-H baby wipe after that one! The mixture of sand and tissue paper they put in those stalls is just inhumane. The pain was physical but also emotional, drumming up all those horrible dumps as a kid finished in an unsatisfactory manner with that Scott tissue.

I hope my brothers out there feel my pain. I ask, Have any of my fellahs out there ever been in a work bathroom stall that was supplied appropriately? I doubt it. Now, this place steps it up like a law firm, with hand sanitizer, a plethora of hair products, mouthwash, colognes and deodorants, in case you need a little refresher. So how bout stepping it up on the main stuff!

I got a little stockpile in my desk drawer now; the ‘emergency’ drawer, if you will. From now on, if I’m heading to do some ‘extra work,’ I come prepared. I’m heading down the hall with the BlackBerry, the AMNY, and some good ol’ medicated baby wipes. Hallelujah! I'm an adult, goddammit! And I'm setting the rules now!

Bag ladies: Hideous monsters or dazzling beauties? Next, on Mr. Sinister!

I love women. All women. Well, maybe not fat, ugly or annoying women. And especially no combination of the three. But I still love the ladies. Only, I'm perplexed by them.

I mean, all men concede we'll never understand women, but there are just some things you ladies do that are just more baffling than others. Take for instance your daily routines. Now, I'm not here to comment on what you do in the bathroom or why we are always left waiting for countless hours just to walk across the street to the diner. The one issue recently I've been trying to come to grips with is your everyday traveling accoutrements.

Lately, navigating a sidewalk, street corner and, especially, subway is like a running back's gauntlet drill. How can I move without getting hit by various objects? Ever notice what a woman has with her while heading to work? In my observation the women of New York City will carry a purse or pocketbook (whatever you women are calling those things these days!). Pretty normal, right? Ok, I get that one. Then there may be a gym bag of some sort, or one of those canvas ecofriendly bags from Origins or some shit. I get that, too. You ladies wanna look good and we appreciate it. But then there's always that 'extra' bag; that one teeny little Bloomingdale's bag that you have in your hand. What's that for?! What the heck do you have in there that wouldn't fit into your other two bags? I'm bewildered.

It's not that I really even need to know how much crap you girls are carrying. Frankly, why the hell would I care? But why the heck do you INSIST on keeping all those things on your shoulders and in your hands on a crowded subway. Surely one of those bags can hang out down by your feet for a few minutes instead of squishing me even more into the corner! Surely, I don't need to be hit in the elbow time and again by those enormous, ugly "CD" letters that hang off your expensive and tacky bag! Your 120-pound ass (hopefully) is taking up precious square footage real estate around town like a chick whose Friday nights consist of making Duncan Hines brownies and watching Gilmore Girls reruns.

Like I said, I love you ladies, you're all interesting and beautiful creatures. Just put the fucking bag down. You ain't Pretty Woman on Rodeo either!