Monthly Archives: June 2010

Gall of Jericho

How can I sum up ABC’s latest quasi-game show “Downfall?”

Hosted by none other than 9-time Intercontinental Champion Chris Jericho, Downfall comes off the top rope with a flying clothesline, connects with the steel chair and hooks the leg for the 3-count.  Here is your winner, and NEW champion, The Idiocracy.

Take a look at the trailer, which explains it all:

The first tip-off is the narrator’s voice.  He’s got that raspy, quick-fire spat that implies “THIS UPCOMING SHIT WILL BE EXTREME, AND IF YOU’RE AWESOME YOU WILL STAY TUNED!”  He sounds like a mix between Guy Fieri and Macho Man Randy Savage, while holding in a bong hit.

Moving on, the game involves answering trivia questions.  On top of a skyscraper.  While prizes are dropped off the side of the building via conveyor belt.

And if PRIZES are not enough to get your blood pressure up, they’ll even drop FAMILY MEMBERS over the side.

Like grandma, here:

There is a reason why Jeopardy has been on for 56 years, and this shit will fizzle out in two seasons.

Since this trash premiered last night, the Idiocratic Threat Advisory Level has been raised to ORANGE.



Entertainment, obviously,  is designed to appeal to consumers.  With that in mind, can we sample entertainment and infer that its qualities are a reflection of our collective consciousness?  Our grand state-of-mind as a society?

Over the past two months, we’ve done our best to highlight the media drivel that is force fed down our throats.  But if you still aren’t sold, and you need more proof that the world is spiraling toward an idiocratic meltdown, behold G4’s “MOVIE’S THAT DON’T SUCK.”

This is probably the most direct correlation to Idiocracy I’ve seen so far, so I’ll let it speak for itself.

Planet Groan

Someone forgot to tell Planet Green that The Simple Life was cancelled in 2007.  For good reason.

The latest abomination in entertainment resides on this subsidiary of the Discovery Channel, in the form of “The Fabulous Beekman Boys.”  The concept?  Let’s take a gay urban couple from NYC and transplant them to a farm in upstate NY so we can watch them raise chickens, pigs and llamas.  Poof, entertainment.

Will the voyeurism fad ever cease?  Who in their right mind wants to watch these dudes bicker?  It’s a fucking farm.

This is what I get for watching “Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman.”

I imagine a board room at a TV station, outfitted with floor-to-ceiling dry-erase boards.  These boards would be chock-full of shocking juxtaposition ideas for reality shows.  And they’ll just continue to go down the list, pumping them out until they hit rock bottom.  It probably looks something like this:

1.  Craigslist Hooker appointed CEO of a major tech company.

2.  Old, white  Texas rancher goes to work at barber shop on 125th st.

3.  The Bachelor– One of us has AIDS – so pick wisely! Edition

4.  P. Diddy’s Making the Quadriplegic Band

5.  Close-up of an old potato for one hour.

Round me up some quadriplegics.

Oh, that’s right.  That old potato show already exists.  It’s called The O’Reilly Factor.


What do you get when you mix a super-brand bent on sponsorship dollars from anywhere, and a marketing team tasked with forcing their square peg product into the round hole of their not-necessarily-target audience’s consciousness?

You get Wholly Guacamole Chip Clip night at Yankee Stadium.

(Click here for full NYY promo schedule.)

I fully understand how these partnerships are forged and implemented.  But when I see a stretch such as this, I can’t help but think idiocracy.

Wholly Guacamole Chip Clip night is a case example of over-marketing, and is a blunt microcosm of the Super Double McAwesome World in which we live.  Chip clips have nothing to do with baseball.  They don’t necessarily have to do with guacamole either, depending on your preferred dipping apparatus.  I get the magnetic schedule, cap night, bat night, etc.  But “Limited Edition Miniature Collectible Yankees Ford Fiesta Day?”  What gives? has a great breakdown of promo games across the league.  According to BDD, 56% of games this year are promo days.  Want to enjoy a ballgame?  Prepare to be overwhelmed with with advertisements in every crack, crevice and cranny.  No more room for ads?  Let’s hand random shit out, with ads on them, that the people can take home.

Kudos to the one team that does not have promotional days – the Boston Red Sox.  As much as I am not a fan, it’s amazing they haven’t jumped on the promotional bandwagon after all these years.

If you do go to a ballgame this summer, let us know if it was a promo game.  Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to attend Planned Parenthood Morning After Pill day.  Or Free Trial Night, sponsored by Jagermeister and loneliness.

Can we stamp NYY on these tablets?

Who Scent You?

Chalk this one up for the “really?” file.

That’s right, the scented motherfuckin’ billboard.

credit: huffington post via

According to the AP:

The billboard on N.C. 150 in central North Carolina emits the smell of black pepper and charcoal to promote a new line of beef available at the Bloom grocery chain…. A high-powered fan at the bottom of the billboard spreads the aroma [of BBQ’ed meat] by blowing air over cartridges loaded with fragrance oil.”

Maybe they could put a few of these on the Jersey Turnpike so it doesn’t smell like rotting imitation crab meat.

Idiot Sportswriters

This is the third installment in an ongoing series called Idiot Sportswriters.  In this series, we call out the lazy, irreproachable blowhards that consider themselves “experts” in their respective fields.  You can check out the other posts here.

I am a huge fan of Phil Mushnick.  For years, Mushnick has fearlessly challenged the idiocratic sports media on their tendency to put  money/sponsorship above the games being played, and their complete disregard for the viewer experience.

But from time to time, even he is wrong.

I just had the roast duck with the saffron risotto. What did you have?

Mushnick’s Friday (6/19) column in the NY Post (Can’t We Just Watch The Games?) offers a popular take on vuvuzelas, the South African noise makers that are omnipresent at this year’s World Cup:

And the sound of 1,000 vuvuzelas being blown in unison is not appreciably lower than 10,000. A fraction of the audience can wreck it for all — for those who bought tickets, those watching on TV, those listening on radio.

FIFA knew what was coming. Cup qualifiers produced the same drone. But for all its blowhards, FIFA did nothing, not even a polite but firm request to check your horn at the door.

We can agree that the brain rattling B♭ created by the vuvuzela is not the most alluring sound in the world.  But contrary to Mushnick’s insistence that FIFA did nothing to stop the vuvuzela insurgency, you only need look as far as to discover that the vuvuleza buzz was not an oversight.  Back in 2009, FIFA made a conscious decision to allow the instrument because of its place in South African cutlure:

From the beat of the samba drums in Brazil to the ringing of cow bells in Switzerland to the Mexican wave, the idiosyncrasies of several nationalities become apparent at football matches.  South Africans are no exception, as those who have descended on the country for this year’s FIFA Confederations Cup have discovered.

The vuvuzela is a vociferous air horn that reverberates around arenas with rare energy. It is also a proud and permanent symbol of its patrons.

When it comes to the 2010 World Cup, the breadth of South African culture is on display.  It’s one thing for Yankee Stadium to ban vuvuzelas, but what if MLB disallowed baseball gloves or caps at the ballpark?  How about those little ice cream helmets?  Fuck that – those things are part of baseball culture.  Much like vuvuzelas are part of South African soccer culture.

If I’m FIFA and I’m forced to decide whether to disallow the use of SOUTH AFRICAN HORNS during a World Cup game IN SOUTH AFRICA, lest annoy some salty old American sports writer with an 8:30pm bed time, I think I made the right decision.

Maybe I’m desensitized because I live in a shit hole apartment and my dryer makes the most annoying “eeeeek” sound in the world with every turn, but I think we should suck it up and let the vuvuzela have its 15 minutes of fame.  After July 11, it will be gone forever anyway.

Idiot of the Day: Koman Coulibaly

Ladies and gentlemen, your honorary Idiot of the Day (/week/month/year/quadrennial): Koman Coulibaly.

I just smoked an L this big.

The Huffington Post has video of this asshole’s ineptitude – check it out here.