Well, hello you. Yes, typical Blowout greeting – although –
this is not a typical Blowout week. And last week wasn’t a typical Blowout
week, either. We’ll get more on that (and specifically my boy, Obama) a bit
later – trust that there will be several paragraphs dedicated specifically to
the saunter of our Commander in Chief.
But – duh. It’s the start of a new season of gloriousness –
television-wise. Yeah girl, yeah. Now listen. I am not some television whore –
but Mama knows what’s good. Mostly though, I just have that magical box that
brings Raven into my living room (more than) once a day on for background noise
while I’m blowing out, getting a mani, teaching Neville and Lucy their letters,
and so on. (Seriously, y’all have no idea what goes on in my days – its almost ungodly.)
As with every new season, there’s some things we can say
with a fair amount of certainty. Really, really, really great shit is on during
the day – intermixed with those personal injury attorney commercials, and past
Jeopardy at 7 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time, of course – is there any other time
zone worth mentioning?) it all goes straight to hell. I’m not excited about the
new “Two and a Half Men” – Ashton Kutcher lately – well, have you peeped that?
Yikes! My how the mighty have fallen.
You have no idea what I’d give to see a bitch-ass Justin Timberlake crying to
Mama if only to see Ashton lookin’ fly – and also looking like he understands
the concept of a shave and a haircut (two bits, if you get me). Shit – I’ll even allow a Leif Garrett haircut
– if only to see those abnormally well-structured cheek bones. I understand
making preparations for the upcoming winter hibernation. But Canada isn’t that
cold – and also, he lives in L.A. Right?
People who frown upon daytime television need to set that
glass of haterade down – on a coaster preferably. You’re calling the “Steve
Wilkos Show” crazy? Um, hello – has anyone observed the rampant drug use and
poor choice in women of Charlie Sheen over the past year? And tell me you don’t
want to ask your own parents to take a DNA test after sitting through one
episode of “Teen Mom” – and Gary! (“Teen Mom” is, and always will remain, in my
opinion, the best form of birth control out there. In terms of price . . . can
anyone help with comparing the cost of basic cable with the social and germ
cost of visiting yo’ local clinic?)
This is not to say that all nighttime television is shit.
There’s the obv delight seen everytime one watches Jon Stewart and those kooky
correspondents on “The Daily Show.” God Bless ‘em – they’ve almost helped to wean
my roommate[mother] off of Rush Limbaugh on her five-minute drive to work.
I’ll definitely be giving the new line-ups a fair shot – and
getting back to you – if I feel like it, of course. But for now, if you want to
see the best of America . . . if you want to see a young tatted-up
undereducated lad stepping in and taking responsibility for his newly
discovered son (“Charmaine, you are the father!”) – and you’re sick of watching
KatVonD and Jesse James – head on over to Maury Povich – a real American antique
and treasure. You wanna see ner-do-wells who’ve clearly never seen a shower (or
a W-2) hop around on stage talking about their feelings? Flip on “Cheaters” and
say a prayer of thanks for Joey Greco.
You want some headlines? Check out “Steve Wilkos” today: “3 Possible
Dads, 1 Possible Molester, 1 Missing Arm.” (Okay, I totes added the part about
the arm – although – this ‘ho is missing an arm – scary.)
We’ll be discussing this again, I fear. Especially with the
huge gaping void that Hope-rah has left. Oh, gah, I can’t even talk about that –
I’m not wearing waterproof mascara today. I guess that means I won’t be able to
check out Anderson Cooper’s new show, either. The fast fall of the Silver Fox
is enough to make anyone shed a tear. Right?
Alright! Alright! The DNA Results are in – here’s hoping
Charmaine isn’t adding yet another hoodrat baby to his 12 already – although, I
don’t know anyone who’s ever turned down a baker’s dozen.
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