I Luv TV

Don't get me wrong – I like sports. I just don't like the sports everyone else seems so crazy about. I don't like basketball (AKA the “sport of fools”), but I do like office chair bowling (where you hide in the corner of your office, and when someone walks in, you sling your roll-y chair at them as fast as you can in an attempt to knock them off their feet – extra points if you crack their femur!). I also don't like football (AKA the “sport of meatheads”) but I do like genital Xeroxing. Now some people claim that genital Xeroxing is not a sport – but those people have never coerced their officemates into seeing how many genitals can be Xeroxed in 30 seconds (our office record is 27 – TOP THAT, MICROSOFT!).

As you may have noticed, we had an election last week! And while this particular election may not have turned out exactly as I would've liked, I've decided NOT to hurl myself face first into a rusty electric wood chipper. As my slightly insane and perpetually inebriated Aunt Wanda used to say, “When the world hands you lemons, make half a glass of lemonade – then fill the rest up with vodka. Drink it, take off your bra, swing it around your head, and scream at the world, 'Fawk YOU, world, and fawk your fawking lemons! Check out these tits!'”

People often ask, “Hey, Wm.™ Steven Hump-Me! What is the secret of your success?” Well, that's a complicated question: How did I – a barely literate narcissist and sex addict born in the rabid goat-infested mountains of Lithuania – rise to the lofty position of America's most beloved television columnist? Well, frankly… I have YOU to thank.

I'd like you to stop whatever you're doing right now, and deeply inhale the inside of my pants. Now: what do you smell? Perhaps… nutmeg? Maybe a touch of lavender? The lingering scent of last night's sex sweat mixed with a trace of Axe Body Spray? Okay, so tell me this: What's missing? CORRECT! Poop. There is not the slightest scent of poop inside my trousers. And NO, this is NOT a good thing!

I'm gonna come right out and say it: I'M SICK OF ZOMBIES, GUYS! I know that zombies are supposed to be the “new” vampires – but I'm not sick of old vampires yet! Actually, that's not true: I am sick of pasty-faced vampires and their weak-kneed, lip-biting human girlfriends, but I'm totally still psyched about Native American shirtless werewolves with smokin' hot abs. (Team Jacob 4-EVAH!)

Guys! Clear your schedule for Sunday, October 17, at 10:00 p.m.! (No, that's not when I'm going to murder your spouse for $25,000! GEEZ! I already told you I wasn't going to do it! Stop with the nagging!) Why? Because you're going to drop whatever or whomever it is you're doing to watch the Mad Men season four finale! Yes, there are other things on this week – such as the extremely intriguing season premiere of Discovery's Dirty Jobs entitled “Exotic Nanny” (Tues, 9 pm), and the debut of Animal Planet's Freak Encounters (Tues, 10:30 pm), which probably has something to do with animals, but sounds like what I experience every time I go into a Taco Bell at 3:00 a.m. Anyway, don't watch those things! I want your entire focus to be on Mad Men this week! I want you to eat Mad Men! Drink Mad Men! Sleep Mad Men! And… what else? Oh! Defecate Mad Men!

There is a case to be made for and against polygamy. THE CASE FOR: (1) Sex. Duh. And lots of it. Say you decided to have 24 wives instead of one: Now, I'm no “arithmetician,” but if I'm not mistaken, 24 wives = 24 times the sex. Unless your wives are like my ex, Mrs. Wm.™ Steven Humphrey #1 – then it's more like -17 times the sex.

Here's what we know so far about England: (1) It's also called “Britain.” (2) It's about the size of Kansas – and for some reason, we still give a crap about what they have to say. (3) It has something to do with Wales and Scotland – but holyfreakingcrap, don't dare get them mixed up.

Generally speaking, when I tell you to do something – you should do it. HOWEVER! If I tell you to do something, and I appear to be wildly intoxicated, mostly naked, and have something that may or may not be feces smeared on my face? You probably shouldn't do it. Of course, you have no way of knowing if I'm currently wildly intoxicated, nearly nude, and have a poopylike substance on my face or not – so I guess you'll just have to trust me. What follows are some things you WILL watch on TV this week, and some things you WON'T watch. C'mon. Trust me.

Sad to say, but “criticizing things” can be a real cutthroat business! If I'm not keeping up with the other TV and movie critics in the country, I could easily find myself at the bottom of a dumpster, licking cheese out of a discarded Dominos box. That's why, in honor of the new Fall season of TV shows, I've decided to institute a new “rating system” – just like every other hack critic employs when they're unable to use “words” to say whether they like something or not. But instead of numbers, stars, pineapples, or other fruit, I'll be rating the new Fall shows with an old standby: THUMBS.