Commercial Break

I must accept my lameness, at least for the time being...

Right now, I am like Prince Humperdink in “The Princess Bride” passing up the opportunity to watch the man in black being tortured to death:

“Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work. But I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I'm swamped!”

(I really like “The Princess Bride”, by the way, an opinion not shared by people lacking, shall we say, a little perspective on life.) Anyway, the point is, I’m a little too slammed to put together a proper column this week. What with our comedy troupe Psychotic Pooch putting together our “Best Of” show, the Fall roll out for the new TV season at work (plus a complete redesign of the station look courtesy of your truly), and some stray procrastination checking out two sites: an upbeat perky tribute to the harrowing Japanese horror film “Ringu” (kinda like Shonen Knife doing a tribute to Pol Pot) plus a look at the confused, conflicted and sexist 70’s sci-fi series “Star Maidens” (think “Dr. Who” with Vegas showgirls).

I, like Chris Sarandon’s evil prince, am swamped. I considered asking my editor if I could just skip a column this go around.

But then I thought, “Hey, I work in TV. And TV as a medium has never let lack of content stop it from draining an hour or two from our lives every night.” I’m far from the first to notice that program content frequently gets in the way of branding, marketing, and ads that cost far more to produce than the shows surrounding them. Bearing this TV metaphor in mind, I will dispense with my usual ramblings (the big show, the main event) and cut straight to the commercials:

(JADED WOMAN IS SEATED, SWIGGING A COCKTAIL. YOUNG BOY SITS ON THE FLOOR, PLAYING WITH AN ACTION FIGURE.)

ASHTON: CAN WE GO TO THE POOL TODAY, HUH, CAN WE?

DEMI: SURE BABY…

ASHTON: I LIKE TO SPLASH IN THE WATER!

DEMI: I KNOW HONEY…

ASHTON: AND THEN…AND THEN…CAN WE GO GET ICE CREAM?

DEMI: WHATEVER YOU SAY SWEETIE… JUST REMEMBER TO WASH YOUR HANDS AND FACE. WE GOTTA LOOK GOOD AT THAT MOVIE PREMIERE TONIGHT…(SWITCHES TO BABY TALK) AND I DON’T WANT TO SEE SCHMUTZY ALL OVER YOUR WIDDLE FACE.

ASHTON: ICE CREAM! YAY!

(WOMAN ADRESSES AUDIENCE.)

DEMI: HI DEMI MOORE HERE, JUST KICKING BACK WITH MY BOYFRIEND ASHTON…

ASHTON: IIIIIIIICE CREAM! YAAAAAAY!

DEMI: HONEY, WHY DON’T YOU GO PICK UP YOUR ROOM…

ASHTON: ‘KAY!

(BOY EXITS. WOMAN SIPS HER COCKTAIL..)

DEMI: BOYS. THEY’RE A HANDFUL SOMETIMES, AREN’T THEY?… I KNOW… YOU’RE ASKING YOURSELF: HOW CAN A GAL WHO GETS BETTER REVIEWS FOR HER BOOB JOB THAN HER ACTING MANAGE TO SNATCH A FINGER LICKIN’ LITTLE BOY LIKE ASHTON?

DEMI: WHY HASN’T ZERO CHARISMA AND NO TALENT HELD DEMI MOORE BACK IN THE UNDERAGE DATING GAME? THE ANSWER IS EASY...

(LOUD CRASH OFFSTAGE.)

DEMI: HONEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

ASHTON (O.S.): ….NUTHIN’…..

DEMI: WELL, WHATEVER IT IS SWEETHEART, STOP IT! (PAUSE) I SNAGGED MY STUD THROUGH “BOY TOY DATING DOT COM”…BOY TOY’S DATABASE INCLUDES THE MOST ELLIGIBLE UNDERAGE BACHELORS IN HOLLYWOOD - INCLUDING HALEY JOEL OSMENT AND MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE’S FRANKIE MUNIZ - SO YOU CAN GET YOUR HOT LITTLE HANDS ON GOLDEN BOYS BEFORE THEY BECOME HAS BEENS.

LOOK, HOW COME MICHAEL DOUGLAS GETS AWAY WITH MARRYING A BABE WHO’S AGE IS LOWER THAN HIS SPERM COUNT? NOW, THANKS TO “BOY TOY” THE LADIES GET TO PLAY THE FIELD.

FACE IT. A YOUNG HUNK ON YOUR ARM UPSTAGES DREW BARRYMORE ANY DAY. AND A ROCK HARD BOY TOY IS THE PERFECT ACCESSORY AT ANY SWANKY PREMIERE.

(BOY ENTERS.)

ASHTON: DO WE HAVE TIME TO DO THE BOINKY BOINKY?

DEMI: THERE’S ALWAYS TIME FOR THAT BABY.

ASHTON: I LIKE THE BOINKY BOINKY!

DEMI: BOY TOY DATING DOT COM. IT’S A BARREL OF LAUGHS. AND BARELY LEGAL.

After a brief station ID we got to:

(JUANTINTA IS STITCHING A LABEL ONTO A T-SHIRT. SHE WIPES THE SWEAT FROM HER BROW.)

JUANITA: HI, I’M JUANITA… HERE AT THE NIKE SPORTING GOODS SWEATSHOP, NOTHING GETS ME HOTTER THAN DOING HARD LABOR FOR LOW, LOW PAY…AND I’M JUST ONE OF THE WET AND WILD SWEATSHOP GIRLS, WAITING FOR YOUR CALL...

(YOLANDA ENTERS, STITCHING A NIKE LABEL ONTO A PAIR OF SNEAKERS..)

YOLANDA: I’D GIVE THE SHIRT OFF MY BACK TO MAKE YOU OVERPRICED DESIGNER SPORTSWEAR – IF I MADE ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY A SHIRT! HERE AT THE NIKE SWEATSHOP, WE’RE SLAVING AWAY TO SLAP TOGETHER THE SHITTIEST SNEAKERS AND THE CRAPPIEST T-SHIRTS .

JUANITA: OOOOH! GETTING RIPPED OFF DRIVES ME CRAZY. HOW ABOUT YOU? SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? PICK UP THE PHONE AND DIAL ONE NINE HUNDRED W-E-T-S-H-O-P, TO TALK TO A REAL LIVE SWEATSHOP GIRL!

YOLANDA: WE’RE SOAKING WET AND WAITING FOR YOUR CALL! SO TAKE THE PLUNGE!

(JUANITA HOLDS UP THE SHIRT SHE’S BEEN WORKING ON. THE SHIRT HAS “1-900-WETSHOP” SEWN ACROSS THE FRONT.)

FEMALE ANNCR (O.S): EXTRA STEAMY, X-RATED FANTASIES, ABOUT EXPLOITED WORKERS! ONE NINE HUNDERED WETSHOP!

Because the guys in Master Control aren’t paying attention, we see a flash frame of a network promo that’s supposed to be covered, then:

(MISSY SITS DOWN IN FRONT OF TV WITH BAG OF CHIPS, SWITCHES ON REMOTE. ANNOUNCER LOOKS ON)

ANNOUNCER: AH, AT LONG LAST – FOOTBALL SEASON. BUT PLANTING YOUR ARMCHAIR QUARTERBACK ASS IN THAT CHAIR WEEK AFTER WEEK, CAN GIVE YOU MORE BACK THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR!

(MISSY LOOKS DOWN AT HER THIGHS, WORRIED.)

ANNOUNCER: SOON THOSE THIGHS WILL BE WIDER THAN A SUMO WRESTLER’S ASS, AND YOU’LL BE LOOKING LIKE PRIME PIGSKIN! IF YOU WANT TO GO FROM WIDE RECIEVER BACK TO TIGHT END, YOU BETTER GET YOUR BACKFIELD IN MOTION!

MISSY: RIGHT!

(MISSY STARTS EXERCISING, FROWNS AND WIPES SWEAT OFF HER FOREHEAD.)

ANNOUNCER: AGONIZING EXERCISES ARE TIME CONSUMING AND TIRING.

(MISSY CROSSES TO TABLE. PICKS UP GLASS OF WATER AND CELERY STICK, POUTS AND SHAKES HER HEAD.)

ANNOUNCER: AND DESPERATE DIETS JUST WON’T CUT THE MUSTARD.

MISSY: WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO?

(ANNOUNCER PICKS UP BLENDER FILLED WITH NASTY SLUGGISH BROWN LIQUID.)

ANNOUNCER: WHY NOT GIVE THE AMAZING HORSESHIT DIET A WHIRL? IT’S ONE HUNDRED PER CENT NATURAL - NO ARTIFICIAL DYES OR FRAGRANCES ADDED. AND TASTY AND TANGY? YOU BET!

(ANNOUNCER CROSSES TO MISSY, POURS OUT THE NASTY SHIT. MISSY DRINKS IT AND SMILES.)

ANNOUNCER: HOW DO YA LIKE THEM ROAD APPLES?

(MISSY TURNS TO AUDIENCE AND WINKS.)

MISSY: I’VE GOT A SHIT-EATING GRIN ON MY FACE. HOW ABOUT YOU?

ANNOUNCER: WATCH THOSE UNWANTED INCHES MELT AWAY, NEVER TO RETURN! IF YOU’RE NOT COMPLETELY SATISFIED AFTER SAMPLING OUR STOOLS, WE GUARANTEE YOUR MONEY BACK! AND YOU CAN KEEP A SIX MONTH’S SUPPLY OF HORSESHIT SHAKE AS OUR SPECIAL GIFT!

MISSY: THE HORSESHIT DIET PLAN – IT’S NO BULL!

By now you’re ready to change the station, but then you see:

(CRAZY IRMA STANDS AT A TABLE PILED HIGH WITH VIBRATING SEX TOYS. SHE HAS A JERSEY OR QUEENS ACCENT.)

IRMA: SEX TOYS! SEX TOYS! SEX TOYS! I GOT SO MANY SEX TOYS I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO PUT ‘EM, AND NEITHER WILL YOU! I’M CRAZY IRMA FOR CRAZY IRMA’S SEX TOY WAREHOUSE, AND RIGHT NOW I’M SITTING ON A PILE OF BUTT PLUGS, RIDING CROPS, BALL GAGS, DILDOES, VIBRATORS...

(IRMA HOLDS UP A BUTT PLUG.)

IRMA: ...AND THE DISTRUBUTOR CAP OF A 1979 BUICK ELECTRA! HOW DID THAT GET IN THERE?

(IRMA TOSSES BUTT PLUG OVER HER SHOULDER. CRASH SOUND EFFECT)

IRMA: SLIP A SEX TOY UP YOUR NOSE, CRAM ‘EM IN EVERY NOOK AND CRANNY YOU GOT, STICK ‘EM IN YOUR EAR! WHAT DO I CARE WHAT YOU DO WITH THEM! I GOT FRENCH TICKLERS COMING OUTTA MY ARMPIT!

(IRMA WHACKS A DILDO IN THE PALM OF HER HAND.)

IRMA: YOU’LL WHACK YOUR WEENIE OVER MY LOW, LOW PRICES! AND IF YOU JOIN MY SEX TOY WAREHOUSE CLUB, I’LL SEND YOU A DIFFERENT THROBBING, SQUIRTING, VIBRATING GIZMO EVERY MONTH!

(IRMA WAVES DILDO AT THE AUDIENCE..)

IRMA: SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SEND ME A CHECK WITH A BIG FAT NUMBER ONE ON IT, AND I’LL FILL IN THE ZEROES. AND IF YOU’RE NOT COMPLETELY SATISFIED – YOU CAN STICK IT UP YOUR ASS!

Time to switch it off and go to bed.
 
¶ 9/4/2003 :: E-mail Pat