If you’re a regular or semi-regular reader of mine, you’ll know that I have a profound dislike for most everything. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of things I like.
Perhaps, television is both my favourite and most hated of life’s little staples. It’s a harsh mistress; dressing up for you all pretty like one moment, then pissing all over you the next. God knows I hate television networks. These wonder-tards are responsible for some of the worst decisions in entertainment history. Fuck it. I’m talking about FOX. FOX has been anally raping its viewership since the dawn of Married: With Children. Let’s check the score:
- Arrested Development: CANCELLED
- Terminator- The Sarah Connor Chronicles: CANCELLED
- Lie to Me: CANCELLED
- Futurama: CANCELLED
- Family Guy: CANCELLED
- Dollhouse: CANCELLED
- Firefly: CANCELLED
Then, there are the shows that FOX execs gave a collective, “fuck it” and greenlit baffling shit like:
- Who’s Your Daddy: Fatherless child + paternity tests + slut mother + a group of guys who couldn’t keep it in their pants + TV audience + cash reward = eventual suicide
- Married by America: The viewing audience could now get involved with helping young couples fuck up their futures
- The Littlest Groom: He’s a midget! Get it? [It actually pained me to type “littlest”]
- Babes: Fat chicks. That’s it. There’s nothing else.
- House of Buggin’: John Leguizamo’s latest tragically unfunny attempt at replacing “In Living Color”
Even more ball-smashingly painful are the shows FOX, not only keeps on the air, but seem to have an L. Ron Hubbard type following. Again, let’s go to the board:
- American Idol: Definition of beating a dead horse and making it sing.
- X Factor: What they’re calling “American Idol,” but with Simon Cowell and Pepsi.
- House: Look, he’s a cranky ass, drug addicted, pompous, douchebag doctor. We get it.
- Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader: Short answer: No
- Glee: Fucking Glee
Although I can shake my fist and send human waste to FOX for the first two lists, there is no one to blame but the American people for the last. What the fuck is wrong with society? “But, Roode,” some of you are no doubt saying to your monitors like I give two shits, “if you don’t like these shows, don’t watch them.” If you’re one of the people who just said that, punch yourself in the kidneys as hard as you can. I’ll wait.
The excruciatingly painful root canal of a problem is that these entertainment equivalents to eyeball AIDS don’t just stay on TV. They’re everywhere. They spill over into every other aspect of life: water cooler chat, trite morning show coverage, bullshit marketing shenanigans, and a host of other methods designed to shove this camel piss down your throat. For fuck’s sake, you half expect the doctor to give you a rectal exam with an official “GLEE” probe.
Glee. Fucking Glee. Outside of “reality” shows, Glee has to be the prickliest cactus that has ever been shoved up my ass [figuratively, sickos]. It combines all the things I hate in life: singing, high school drama bullshit, singing about high school drama bullshit, hair styles from the 80’s, poser-hipster-geekdom, a Barbara Streisand wannabe, and all the douchebaggery contained therein.
Impossibly aggravating twirling paraplegic aside, I’m completely baffled as to how in the fuck this show became the runaway success it is. I guess it has all the ingredients of an asinine network TV show popular with the toothless public:
Unrealistically pretty high school “teenagers” + mismatched couples + painfully dubbed singing + forced and contrived gay character(s)
Alright, maybe most of that is superficial for a list of reasons why I hate this show more than a punch to the yam bag. But, it’s a goddamn TV show. What else do I need? It’s television cancer! The background music, itself, is enough to drive one into a murderous rage.
I tried to watch the show once [read: woke up on the couch while wife was watching it]. I timed myself. It was exactly one minute until I was filled with homicidal rage. It’s like fingers on a chalkboard. It’s not any ONE thing. It’s EVERYTHING. Individually, I’m pretty sure I could stomach each vomit inducing annoyance for an hour-long show. I hate singing in a television show, but I managed to put up with episodes of The Simpsons that shoe-horned musical sketches into the show. High school drama on TV makes me want to set fire to an orphanage, but I was able to sit through Veronica Mars.
But, all those little annoyances in concert is like being hit with a bag of oranges. It’s a constant left-hook, right-hook combination. It’s one of the few situations when running headlong into a wall is the better of two evils. Take the hits too long and you’ll end up like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky V. No, not the Rocky character. I really mean Sylvester Stallone.
Glee has become oh so fashionable! Why, everyone who’s ANYONE wants to have their songs shit on, ham-fisted into a “plot” then have the very essence changed to discuss the problems of kids in wheelchairs not being able to get enough blond poontang.
Ah, that’s what FOX wants you to think. Every now and then an artist is able to withstand the evil and money to protect his work from being shat out the prime time sphincter. Who? Who dared defy the FOX gods and deny them their power and inefficient hybrids?
Back in March of 2011, Dave declined to give the rights to his song, “Everlong.” [Read: Go fuck yourselves] Grohl feels that musicians shouldn’t feel pressured to bow down to Glee’s awesomeness and beg to give them any song out of their catalogue the studio wants. Check this:
“It’s every band’s right, you shouldn’t have to do fucking Glee,” Grohl, 42, told The Hollywood Reporter. “Dude, maybe not everyone loves Glee. Me included. I watched 10 minutes and it wasn’t my thing. “
Translation: Fuck you, Ryan Murphy, creator of Glee. Your shit absolutely DOES stink. Not only that, but we can see what you ate for lunch.
But, I suppose Dave Grohl’s story isn’t indicative of the norm. Well, that would be true if Slash and Kings of Leon didn’t do the same damn thing and FLAT OUT REFUSED to let their music be a part of that bile gargling sing-com. I can only hope this becomes some sort of movement within the music industry that has musicians actually KNOW what their songs are being used for when they accept a fat check. Just say NO, Alice in Chains. JUST SAY NO!
The ONLY redeemable decision this holocaust of a show ever made was just chance. Heather Morris was hired, originally, to work out the coreography for the mind numbing dance scenes. She worked with Beyoncé and knew a thing or two about choreography. It was her job to teach the cast of mouth breathers how to dance well enough for prime time television. I guess she did pretty well, because they ended up hiring her to play Brittany Pierce in a recurring role. In the second season she was made a full cast member. I wish I understood why.
Oh, yeah. I see why. Excellent job!
As we’ve pointed out before, Hell’s Kitchen has become, to us, a necessary evil. I stated watching since season 4. I don’t remember why. Some combination of being drunk, bored, and… well, that’s really it.
Whatever the case, I was drawn in. Maybe, it’s because I enjoy seeing dumbasses getting their chocolate chutes stuffed with Gordon Ramsey‘s shoe. Maybe, it’s because of the occasional cute female contestant.
One thing I’ve noticed, over the seasons, is that there are a few enduring contestant personality types. No matter how many seasons the show has aired, these fuckers don’t learn. It’s like they go on the show without ever have actually seeing it. I’m not even sure how that shit is possible. Doesn’t it make sense to do a little research on the company that’s about to interview you? You want to know everything there is to know; especially who their ideal candidate is. Above all, you don’t want to make the same mistakes previous applicants have made. But, fuck that. If you’re going to crash and burn, do it Hindenburg style.
The Over Confident Douche
Confidence is important in many avenues of life. It shows that you know what you’re doing and, at least, have half of your shit under control. However, when you don’t have any of your shit under control, it’s down right ridiculous. If you consistently and constantly fuck up there is no reason to be full of yourself. OK, I’ll concede that (most of) the chefs wouldn’t be on the show if they at least didn’t know their ass from a stock pot. Even so, their ass-chappingly outrageous hubris smothers their talents like a fat man on a scooter.
One second they’re on the “confessional” cam talking up their mad skills and referring to themselves with bat-shit retarded nicknames (See: K-Greese from season 2 above). Sure, they have the world by the balls, until it’s go time. Then see how fast they go from “I can rock this shit!” to crying in the fetal position.
The Pretentious Asshat
Over confidence is one thing. Being an outright fuck-tastic asshole about your skills is another. Fine, you’re a good chef. Maybe you’re even one of the best ones in the contestant pool. Stop being a condescending bastard about it. Take the chuckle head above, Benjamin from season 7. This guy ended up with a god complex Bill Gates would envy. When not belittling the skills and ideas of others, the little turd actually tried to usurp control from sous chef, Scott. That’s sort of like making a grab for R. Lee Ermy’s bullhorn.
The other thing that irked the piss out of me was his incessant use of the word, “Oui.” Fucking say YES like every other human being in LA! That, alone, justifies a colonoscopy with a rusty pipe.
The Clueless Wonder
As good old Bonnie from season 2 shows us, Hell’s Kitchen is chocked full of clueless dipshits. They wander around from station to station in the kitchen with a perpetual “Huh?” look stamped to their faces. These people can’t tell time, remember what they’re cooking, and consistently confuse Chef Ramsey with someone who gives an ape shit.
Think back to high school (assuming you graduated/attended). If you’ve ever taken a science class with a lab assignment there’s a good chance you were saddled with a clusterfuck partner with a perma-duh expression. Maybe YOU were that kid. Hey, I’m not judging here. In any case, these dopes are less than dead weight. In the event of a nuclear attack, we can cram ourselves into their thick skulls to stave off radiation.
Oh, and there is NO way I’m not mentioning the waste of precious oxygen and space, Lacey from season 5. The pant load shuffled from station to station, hoping no one would notice that everything she did turned into a steaming pile of suck.
The Delusional Dipshit
This dillhole refuses to accept reality. No matter how many times they get a verbal beatdown or a vocal raping, they honestly believe that Chef Ramsey wouldn’t have done so if he didn’t “see potential.” OK, so you set fire to the kitchen, accidentally ground Ramsey’s dog into pate, and took a dump on the fish station. You’re only getting yelled at, because he BELIEVES IN YOU!
“Chef Ramsey wouldn’t take the time to read me the riot act, call me a donkey, then throw my raw fish in the air where he proceeded to shoot it like a clay duck with a .45 pistol he conveniently on him, because I’m a walking fuck nut. I KNOW he see something in me. He wouldn’t have shot my raw fish if he didn’t care.”
While we’re at it, let’s kick over a few corpses and look at each season’s clusterfuck who has destroyed everything he’s touched. I’m talking; everything was raw, except for the things that were SUPPOSED to be. He sneaks undercooked meat into the microwave with fingers crossed to fool the chefs into thinking it came out of the oven that way. Oh, my personal favorite, absolutely knowing what he’s doing is wrong but attempts to make some sort of Vegas casino Harry Blackstone shit to slide his monstrosity across the hot plate. Then, during their confessional sessions, they tell the audience how he rocked the service or challenge. He’s going to be the winner hands down! Christ, people! You fuckers as supposed to be chefs. The third time you bring a piece of meat to the hot plate, still cold and horrifyingly under cooked you need to get the fuck out of Hell’s Kitchen and never walk into any kitchen again. March straight to a doctor and get tested for autism or cholera or something. There has to be a physical reason for that much stupid.
This fucker is a combination of the delusional dipshit and pretentious asshat. On one hand, he knows he’s a cooking abortionist. On the other, their ego won’t allow them to admit it. So, in order to succeed, this slap happy fart knocker has to throw a monkey wrench or two into the works.
This joker has thrown so many people under the bus he might as well be charged with serial homicide. It’s not just that he Bill Clintons his way around the rules, it’s that this sick bastard actually gloats about it on camera. Hey, numb nuts, you think you’re super cleaver, right? Has it ever occurred to you that Chef Ramsey could be watching the dailies of the show recording?
The Near Dead
For the love of all that is holy, if your ass can’t walk up a flight of stairs without needing to camp out midway and finish the trip the next day DON’T FUCKING WORK ON A REALITY SHOW! Hell’s Kitchen has been a sad parade of the morbidly obese, infirmed, and plaque ridden. Many a season has had a contestant that needed to go to the emergency room for some sort of debilitating issue. Robert had to drop out of the finals in season 5, because he was two steps away from a full on heart explosion. In season 6, this portly summabitch almost passed out when peddling some sort of bicycle contraption. Season 2’s Larry didn’t even make it to the first dinner service before his ass was bounced to the hospital.
Don’t get me started on Tom from season 5. This hapless turd had to have come from 15th century England, because he had a constant and inexplicable case of sweating sickness. Let’s just say he put a little bit of himself in every meal.
*Side note: Being sweaty is perfectly forgivable in certain cases.
This sexless wonder-tard unleashes a never-ending barrage of sexist comments, but doesn’t understand why women think he’s a pig. Take Jason up there from season 4; this whiny, snail-like, Humpty Dumpty motherfucker had enough problems cooking Spam and not shitting on the floor. The sexism is really the only quality the series could showcase. Take a look for yourself to see this train wreck of a ball sack at the 1:55 mark.
In an effort not to be a one hit wonder, Tom from season 5 joined the “I hate bitches” train. Sweaty got all pissy when he was chosen to be on Virginia’s team in the finale. But, what did he care? That handsome son-of-a-gun could get any woman he wanted.
Finally, we’re at the most entertaining, albeit banana sandwich nuts, Hell’s Kitchen personality. Whether this window licker is talking to the voices in his head, getting into a karate fight with imaginary friends, or just plain losing his shit one thing is clear– they’re all making sandwiches without bread.
Let’s take Matt from Season 4. There were more than a few times when it was completely conceivable this fucker could have gone completely ballistic and wore someone’s pancreas as a hat.
In, not surprisingly, his last appearance as a contestant, this simple bastard started what can only be described as a nuclear grade meltdown. Check the video, below. At the 3:07 mark he starts smacking himself on the head and whimpering. Not crazy enough? At 3:39 he makes an oh so subtle death threat to Christina. NO? You fuckers want blood. Alright, how about at 3:05 mark where he can be seen going through a range of pants-shitting emotions, all of them insane?
Then, there’s Raj from the current season (8). It became quite evident after his third karate fight with the refrigerator that he was destined for the laughing academy.
But, the elite of the giggling shit-flingers is most definitely Joseph from season 7. This chuckle head went through too many obstacle courses without a helmet. Not only does he seem completely incapable of answering a question without going completely John Rambo, he decides that this whole Hell’s Kitchen thing is bullshit. It’s time for motherfuckers to throw down!
Hey, I’m all about throwing a dash of UFC into Hell’s Kitchen. That’s appointment TV! But, Joey comes off as a slightly retarded steroid popper. This whole scene was so goofy-stupid, yet enthralling. I’m still not sure it wasn’t completely rigged.
As long as this damn show is on, I’ll watch. It’s a long spiral to hell. I don’t want to watch it. I’m an educated man. I know better. But, it’s like a traffic accident on the interstate; no matter how gruesome it is, I simply cannot look away.