Papa’s Basement 8-22-09 ft. Will, Veronica, Matt
John talks about his newest passion – Netflix – and, specifically, watching every episode of “The Office” he can get his hands on. He also attempts to get dating advice, […]
Last night after a brutal day of eight hours of radio (actual time on air: 0 minutes. I rule) followed by three hours of locksmithing (as an aside, the house I was locksmithing in sheltered a fat lad of the age of six or so that lived with his mother. He had just finished his dinner, but, within 20 minutes was pestering her for multiple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. “Please Mommy, more! I’m hungry!” he protested. She gently reminded him “You just ate. If you wait a few minutes, you’ll feel full.” This wasn’t good enough for Augustus Gloop, though. “No, Mommy! I’m hungry NOW!” And, of course, the single mother, possibly compensating for the fact that she wasn’t depraved enough in the sack to keep daddy around, relented and gave in to Li’l Jabba. The whole time I wanted to kick this tubby turd in his fat gut and scream “Kid, in about 10 years, there’s something else you’ll really, really want to be eating, and your little bitch tits with their puffly Snow Cap nipples won’t be helping you to do it.” The whole scene bothered me because it might as well have been a flashback to the Papageorgiou household circa 1987. I swear to Christ, if I ever have kids, I’m keeping those bastards Dachau thin. End aside.)
During my ride home, I was thinking about one thing: the season premiere of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” would be starting right as I walked in the door (well, two things: Always Sunny and how badly I wished I had a time machine to force First Grade Me onto a diet). For those of you not aware of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” it is an off-color comedy about four loser friends that really don’t work, achieve, love, live or do much of anything other than scheme, hate and try to fuck over anyone they can to advance their own selfish agendas. It’s spiced up with tons of (comical) racism, sexism and bigotry of all other varieties. It’s like someone ran a tape recorder in my car after an Asian woman cut me off in traffic and made a show based upon the words I screamed out. For years now, Always Sunny has been a personal delight that I would force my friends to watch over and over with me on DVD. Everyone I knew grew to adore the show, in no small part to my pathetic evangelizing, and it seemed to get better and better each season. That is, until last year.
I’m not going to bore you with the details of the abortion I witnessed last night from 9 to 9:30 pm, but, suffice to say, I was forced to watch the season premiere of “The Office” twice just to wash the taste out of my mouth. I don’t know why I feel so personally betrayed by “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” jumping the shark, but I do. It was MY show, dammit! And now it’s mocking me, a grotesque caricature of all that it once was, like a beautiful woman whose figure goes straight to Shitsville after having her firstborn. Sure, I still have more than enough to keep me busy: “Sons of Anarchy,” “House,” college and pro football. Not to mention an old favorite I cleverly refer to as “internet pornography.” But I wanted my Sunny to be fresh and new and beautiful once more. Is that too much to ask?
Tagged as: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Television.
admin August 24, 2009
John talks about his newest passion – Netflix – and, specifically, watching every episode of “The Office” he can get his hands on. He also attempts to get dating advice, […]
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Claire on October 26, 2009
Agreed.