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It doesn’t seem as if the two or three days shaved off of February
should amount to much, but here I am, shocked again it’s almost over.
It’s just as well it’s short. February has got to be the crappiest month
ever, which is why the power elite made it Black History Month. They’re
thinking of taking back the last seven days and making that National
Jews, Women and Unsightly Handicapped Folk Week. Groundhog’s day is in
February. What could be more celebratory than some morbidly obese rat
thing either telling you you’re in for six more weeks of shoveling or
lying through his orange, British style teeth that spring is coming
early? Valentines day happens in February which is awful no matter what.
Either you’re single in which case everyone is laughing at your
inadequacy, or you made some huge Valentine’s effort of flowers, dinner,
gift event, for someone who gave you a kid’s folded over Scooby Doo card
in return or you’re part of an established couple and no matter how it
works out it’s just a disappointing reminder of times past and the road
not traveled for both of you. On the plus side, it’s a fabulous day to
hang yourself.
None of that is what makes February the month it is, though. February
offers only one event of significance. Sweeps. The networks will
determine how much to charge advertisers in the coming year based on
viewership, so they pull cute ‘stunts’ to artificially increase their
Nielson ratings, generally the kind of thing the Marquis DeSade would
have thought too demeaning for his partners.
Survivor vs. Supersize Friends. I was so overwhelmed with indecision and
grief that I didn’t have picture in a picture capacity that I actually
pulled off my lower jaw and beat myself comatose with it. I mean, good
God, what’s it gonna be? Idiots eating bugs in return for being on TV or
the possibility that Rachel and Ross might get back together? Where’s
the wisdom of Solomon when you need it?
West Wing Vs. Temptation Island. Do we go with the Bizarro Whitehouse
where an intelligent, liberal administration tries to uphold the public
trust without abusing their power, or ‘succumb’ to ‘temptation’? You
know what ‘temptation Island’ tempts me to do? Run my man part through
one of them Olde Tyme wash ringers. Actually, if you flip back and forth
between the two programs at stroboscopic speed you get a fairly good
approximation of the current Administration.
Okay, lets be frank. If the network programmers are reading this (and I
find it hard to imagine them doing anything less than doting on my every
written word), it’s time for you to realize just how jaded your viewing
public is. Ten more minutes of excruciatingly stereotyped flouncing on
"Will and Grace" is not going to get me to tune in. Barbara
Streisand duct taped to the floor of the "Robot Wars" (Battlebots) arena would. Packaged
reality shows where recognition crazed cretins starve themselves and
roll naked in the mud mere feet away from the Teamsters mandated crew
catering table? No. Celebrity Jeopardy with Anna Nicole Smith, George
‘Dubya’ Bush and Steven Hawking, who knows all the answers but can’t
buzz in? Yes. XFL? I can’t be bothered. A special ‘Frontline’ on the
injection of various unknown chemical irritants into the collective
testicles of the Back Street Boys? Wild horses, my friends. So don’t be
shy. The Roman Emperors knew that bread and circuses kept the masses
from focusing on their misery long enough to revolt. So televise a to
the death chainsaw match between Britney Spears and Gallagher with a
half time show featuring a thong clad Dick Chenny being forced to run
himself into a coronary on a human sized Hamster Wheel. Or... we'll rise up
and kill you.
note: Max
Burbank is just pissed off that they cancelled his favorite
show, "Bass Fishing With Jeb and Cletus".
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