Film Events

For many people, this week is a lot like Christmas – unless you're Jewish, in which case it's a lot like that unpronounceable holiday you people celebrate. It's national “Shark Week” on the Discovery Channel (starting August 1) – a whopping seven days of documentaries devoted to sharks and the chunks they take out of your ass.
Now, me? I say sharks are OVERRATED. I mean, c'mon! What do sharks actually do other than amputate ass cheeks? NOT MUCH. Plus! The Discovery Channel has been hosting “Shark Week” since 1987 – the same year my mom first discovered a pube in my diaper. Isn't it time to let some other animal have a chance? Like, how about “Monkeys on Roller Skates Week”? They're adorable and hilarious, and if you stick a banana between your cheeks, I bet they'd happily bite your ass off. Or “Crocodiles on Meth Week.” You squirt some meth up in a croc's grill and laugh and laugh and laugh while they furiously clean your kitchen and reorganize your spice rack.

GUYS! I must confess I'm purrrrr-ty disappointed in the creators of Mad Men right now. Not that I dislike the show… in fact, the boner alert in my pants reached orange (the most boner-ific color) after learning the season premiere of Mad Men debuts this week (AMC, Sun July 25, 10 pm). In fact, my boner is so inflated, I have to wear cargo shorts for the morbidly obese just so I can go outside! (Unfortunately, that still doesn't stop my boner from accidentally smashing shop windows whenever I happen to turn around.)
So why am I so disappointed in Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner? Because for reasons too mind-boggling to comprehend, Weiner has REJECTED my script for a season four episode! I KNOW, RIGHT?

As a father of at least a couple dozen out-of-wedlock kids, I believe I can speak with some authority on the subject of child rearing. Tip #1: Don't call it “child rearing.” It's disgusting. Tip #2: Children are much like amoebas in the brain department, and therefore only require two things: the right to (a) stay up all night and (b) eat as much candy as possible. Offer them a Zagnut bar or an hour less of sleep, and you can get them to wash your car for a year. Tip #3: Kids will believe everything you tell them. For example, my mother told me that when I was a baby, she implanted a microphone in my brain, which would let her know what I was thinking every minute of the day. This totally psyched me out, and even though I was pretty sure “brain microphones” were a scientific impossibility, it worked like a charm. My efforts at mischief became clumsy and insecure. For example, when I'd try to steal candy from the cupboard, I'd invariably make enough noise to alert my mom, who would hop out from around the corner yelling, “AH-HAH! Your brain microphone told me you'd be doing that!!”

For reasons unknown, I'm often accused of using this television column to talk about anything except television. First of all, the name of this column is “I Love Television™” not “I Write About Television™” (although that's an awesome name for a television column, isn't it?). Secondly, there are other things in this world besides television, guys! Say for example, the Twilight series. Have you seen Eclipse yet? Aren't Jacob's abs AH-MAY-ZING? Isn't Edward a pasty-face fop? And isn't Bella the stupidest person in the world? Seriously, she spends the entire movie whining, “Edward! Change me into a vampire! Change me into a vampire!” Why should he? So she can nag the shit out of him for the rest of eternity? Bella would be, like, the worst vampire in the history of vampires – and yes, I'm including Count Chocula! At least he likes chocolate! Bella is stupid, doesn't like chocolate, and the only thing she sucks is a person's will to live.

AMERICA! The country in which I receive a paycheck! AMERICA! The country in which I can say whatever I want about my employer without fear of termination (unless I'm General Stanley A. McChrystal). AMERICA! The country where certain newspapers stupidly refuse to pack their Fourth of July issues with an insane amount of patriotic content. (You guys can't fire me, right? After all, this is AMERICA!!)
So the other day, I asked this paper's big boss, “Yo, pops! What sort of amazing patriotic content are you planning on packing into this issue? IT'S GONNA BE INSANE, RIGHT?” Well as it turns out, the amount of patriotic content is not INSANE at all! In fact, it's decidedly UN-insane!

There's crap for TV this week – unless, like me, you've got a cop fetish. If so, then you may want to check out the premiere of Rookie Blue (ABC, Thurs June 24, 9 pm), which involves an impossibly hot group of rookie cops trying to survive their first days patrolling the streets. The upside? Unlike the somewhat unattractive cops I've been forced to bone (it's a fetish, not a choice), these pigs are WICKED SMOKIN'. The downside? None of them are naked. In fact, that's the problem with this series – unless these buff pieces of bacon are patrolling a nudist colony, an orgy, or the inside of my pants… NOT INTERESTED.
Anyway, on to more important subjects! LIKE ME! AND MY NEW BAND! For those who have been following my all-ukulele R. Kelly cover band (entitled “R. Kelele” of course), you will be devastated to hear that we've broken up. I left the band after discovering my co-ukuleleists were fanny holes and totally cramping my style. Besides, they refused to play any cop bars, cop parties, or cop conventions. LAME!

Reason #1! Her teeth look like someone knocked them out with a jackhammer, and then shot them back inside her mouth using a T-shirt cannon.
Reason #2! Watching an episode of her long-running Disney Channel TV show, Hannah Montana, is like experiencing a production of A Midsummer's Night's Dream by the Royal Shakespeare Company – if the play were cast with spastic chimps dosed up on goofballs, who are either furiously masturbating or crapping onto one of the Bard's sonnets, which they then either hurl at the audience or consume for their own enjoyment.