To get you (but mainly me) ready for the premiere of the second season of Louie tonight on FX (10:30 ET), here is a deleted scene from the season 1 DVD that features Louis alongside fellow comedians Rick Shapiro, Todd Barry, and Nick DiPaolo:

Just when I think our government couldn’t do anything more underhanded or downright stupid to make the state of our country’s politics look worse than it already does, I happen to catch a new episode of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart on TV:

It’s been well over a month now, and I am still trying to adjust to living in a new area that I didn’t want to move to in the first place.  One of the minor challenges I’ve faced involves my new cable service, and trying to remember the numbers that correspond with my favorite channels.  This means I have been flipping through channels a lot more, and watching more TV while simultaneously watching less.  But this isn’t always necessarily a bad thing, as I found out yesterday after stumbling across an “award-winning” PBS series called Sit and Be Fit.  The show has been on the air for over twenty years now, and stars a registered nurse in the fields of geriatrics and post-polio rehabilitation named Mary Ann Wilson.  Ms. Wilson essentially has designed a workout routine to make oldies sweat by utilizing simple exercises that, at first glance, kind of resemble warning signs for early-onset dementia.  And even though it’s aimed at the elderly, I’m sure Sit and Be Fit has also been a boon for scores of fat, lazy Americans of all ages who want to get in shape, yet still have their 44 oz. Diet Coke and two-pound bag of Doritos within arm’s reach when they need it.  The show also represents pretty much everything that I love about non-profit public broadcasting services like PBS: 1) New episodes of shows still look like they were made in the 80′s, 2) The music that accompanies the shows sounds like it was pulled from a CD titled Muzak’s Greatest Hits, 3) they’re intended to be serious, but can rarely be taken that way, and 4) they’re usually the funniest thing on TV when you’re baked as an albino who’s been lost in the Sahara Desert.

To prove my point, here’s a couple of clips from Sit and Be Fit for your viewing pleasure.  The first video was recorded on my phone from the couch before discovering there were already a bunch of YouTube videos uploaded from the show. And if you can make it through them without thinking disgustingly dirty, depraved thoughts about what Mary Ann Wilson looks like under those enormous legwarmers, then you’re a better man/woman than I:

Mary Ann shows off a wide range of expressions, including one that probably closely resembles her “O Face“:

In the same vein as Die Hards 2 through 4, Fletch Lives, Speed 2 and the Look Who’s Talking franchise, I’m simply going to rehash something I’ve done before and flog it like it’s something completely different.  So, with only the shows that are on today as opposed to the last time being the major difference, it is time to play Channel Association Redux.  Tonight’s contestant is the same idiot who played last night.  And now, let’s start the game shall we?  With me as always is the beautiful Trish, who will smile awkwardly in a very tight bedazzled dress that accents her large implants…and we’re off.

Channel 149:  The Power of One – A riveting sports documentary that tells the story of how one avid sports fan turned his embarrassingly enormous right hand into a fortune with the invention of his patented foam finger.

Channel 152:  Music Videos - A channel dedicated to old-time classic footage, which was taken from ancient music channels that actually once showed music videos as opposed to shitty reality shows.

Channel 157:  Clean House – The highly-anticipated sequel to Roadhouse, only Dalton has now developed obsessive compulsive disorder.  So this time around he’s a neat freak, who must battle a rich slob for control of a small town that’s filled with germs and dust.

Channel 165:  What Darwin Didn’t Know – A documentary about how pissed off Charles Darwin would be if he knew that his theory of evolution would someday be simplified down to a fish symbol on the back of believers’ cars, or non-believers, however you wanna look at it.

Channel 170:  Deliver Me - A hot new reality show where contestants try to see who can ship a midget across the country cheapest and fastest using the USPS, DHL, UPS, or FedEx.

Channel 172:  Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius –  A detailed history of masturbation and the man who first discussed it openly.  He was also a pioneer in lubricants, Kleenex, and the use of the other hand.

Channel 179:  Mission: Impossible III – A threequel to the documentary that won the coveted Tub of Buttered Popcorn Award at the Sundance Film Festival. This edition documents the struggles, injuries, trips to the ER, and ultimate triumph of the five man team that used to have to get Aretha Franklin into a girdle night in and night out when she was out on tour.

Channel 187:  Deadliest Catch - Chronicles the struggles of those living with HIV and AIDS.  This documentary looks at how they caught these diseases, and asks them whether or not they believe “Magic Johnson’s johnson is actually magic.”  In case you forgot, he allegedly contracted HIV, but has only gained muscle, more fame, money, and the privilege of reminding people he existed.  As far as I know, he’s still beating the disease like it’s a dead Mr. Ed.

I was flipping through the channels as I was trying to decide whether to continue preparing for the trial I have on Friday, or just screw off like the top to a 1.5 liter bottle of the classiest wine Riunite has to offer - even after the increase in smoke and swill taxes, Riunite is still more affordable than paying attention.  The only real problem with buying Riunite is having to look the clerk in the eyes when you’re checking out.  Whatever that purple flavor they have isn’t all that bad – my mother guzzles it whenever she is in the general vicinity.  It’s refreshingly sweet, with a hint of carbonation; but it is subtle and less puke-inducing than Mad Dog 20/20 - which contrary to popular belief, does not help your eyesight.

Getting back to what I intended to theorize on, while flipping through my choices, I noticed something called Mother, Jugs, and Speed was coming on Channel 168.  Surprisingly, the name of Channel 168 – which upon second glance does not appear to be affiliated with any numerically named sexual position – is RETRO and not something like LUVSAC, STAFF, or HOLE.  Mother, Jugs, and Speed sounds like a movie about busty MILF’s who either have a meth problem, or drive NASCAR.  It’s hard to keep scrolling through your choices when you see a title like this on a non-credit card requiring channel.  It sounds like a movie that you’d be concerned about both stopping on, and hitting the info button when your significant other is in the room – that is, unless of course she has $14.99 plus tax left on the credit limit of her MasterCard.  As for what the movie is actually about, I hit the info button and was told that none other than Heathcliff Huxtable was in this story “about an unlikely trio of paramedics employed by a private ambulance service.”  They should have called it Mother, Jell-O Pudding, and Speed if the voice of Fat Albert was going to be in it.  Hey, hey, here is something that would be fun to watch: Fat Albert in an adult movie.  There would be more bouncin’ than a trampoline expo – you think Mushmouth would take off his hat when it got down to the nitty gritty?

Soul Player was on Channel 144 VHISO.  I am guessing this is a show about a ghost-like entity who has a strong pimp hand.  I find this an odd show to be on a channel which appears to be named after either a saline solution, a black market cellular service provider, or that less filling soup you get at most sushi joints.

Something called Pucca comes on channel 135 DISXD.  To be honest, I have no idea what or who a Pucca is – unless the show is about one of those sweet necklaces I used to wear back in the day.  I’ve only got 30 minutes to figure it out, however, because Yin Yang Yo! comes on next.  I find it hard to believe that something on an alleged youth network would be named after the way a honky pretends to rap in Chinese, but it appears as though it has occurred.  And if I don’t want to watch Pucca, I could change the channel to 131 NOG and watch Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!  Honestly, I think the name of this show sounds like what a Teletubby would say before having an orgasm, but this is apparently a children’s channel as well.  On a side note, I think there was a fetish film shot in Miami entitled Sham Wow! Wow! You Bit Me!  I think it will be interesting to see once it comes out; can a Sham Wow soak up all the blood, and make teeth marks disappear after you’ve been bitten by an apparently rabid hooker? 

Well, I’m going to have to let you go because I don’t know how to work my MVR, CVS, ATV or whatever the hell the recording feature on this contraption is called - plus, I want to be able to divert my full attention to Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!

Yesterday I introduced you to my first great reality game show idea for the new spring TV season – if there is such a thing – Crotch Kicks for Cash.  However, I think the second show I thought of would get even higher ratings: Kill Bob Saget. Everybody hates that motherfucker, well everyone I know anyway.  If schmaltzy had a word to describe itself, it would be Saget.  He’s always been such a wuss and cheesy entertainer, and I don’t want to hear any of this, “But he was good on Entourage” shit either.  This guy’s blood probably has higher progesterone levels than the Octo Mom, and his stool samples no doubt have high levels of Stilton.

Admittedly, due to his time on America’s Funniest Home Videos, Saget is like the Monty Hall of crotch shot entertainment.  That being said, just because you pioneered the gonardre, doesn’t mean you’ve got a monopoly on it.  For instance, that one cheesy dude could handle the Family, but lost the Feud between a handgun and his skull.  Tool Time Tim’s best bud Al has also refereed the familial fisticuffs in the not so recent past.  I even believe the guy who played J. Peterman on Seinfeld was once the game show version of Henry Kissinger to the television savvy Hatfields and McCoys.  Now I think it’s some dude who claims he is one of the original king’s of comedy.  I’m sure Steve Martin would beg to differ.  But none of them will ever compare to that drunk, pinky ring, three-piece suit wearin’ and pocket watch fob havin’ mofo Richard Dawson.  I’ll guarantee you that none of them had the pudding cups to make fun of the stupider of the stupidest family members who said, out of a hundred people surveyed, that the CIA is someone who would be interested in reading their diary (This was an actual answer provided in a celebrity “Models vs. Soap Stars” edition I saw on the Game Show Network).

But let’s get back to that assclown Bob Saget.  When he was trying to be America’s Funniest host of its videos, he threw out more one-liners than Tony Montana.  He threw them out, and kept doing so even when he knew they sucked.  This is evidenced by the looks he’d get on his face, which seemed to be outtakes from his prior audition as “muscle relaxant misapplied to sphincter sufferer # 3″ for the low budget production “Burning Ole Brown Eye.”  Saget is also complicit in the ascension of the incomprehensibly famous Olsen Twins onto the monetary Mount Olympus .  Yeah, see what I’m sayin?  This motherfucker is pure evil.  He also furthered and/or sustained the career of John Stamos during his mullet years.  And Dave Coulier’s only other contribution to humanity was pissing Alanis Morissette off enough to write that totally chapped song where she references blowing him at the movie theater.

As far as the show goes, I am still open to suggestions about how the actual plot of Kill Bob Saget would play out.  Would you tell Saget the American public was tired of his schmarmy, phonin’ it in, big-TV-teet-to-allow-the-less-talented-to-suckle-from and were ready to kill him?  Would you film it all guerilla, home video style?  Or would you film it like Full House, and include a laugh track every time he’s maimed?  I guess you could possibly film it guerilla/home video style with a laugh track, and a studio audience.  The possibilities are endless.  As with any new show, you might run into some problems early in production.  You could go through the trouble of getting a special permit and tags from the government, then Saget might acquire a terminal illness, get run over by a truck delivering dildos, or be killed in a tragic anvil being dropped from the top floor of a building accident.  Then, all you’d be left with would be a documentary on how you attempted to make a game show that revolved around killing Bob Saget.  There’s a chance you might still be revered as a trend setter and visionary in the celebrity death game show field.  But in the end you’d probably be looked upon the same way as Caleb, the guy who thought he could get a least one of every animal into the canoe he built.  Obviously, the story of Caleb’s Canoe is nowhere near as famous as that rip-off artist Noah and his fancy Ark, which was nothing more than a floating petting zoo.

I recently came up with a couple of new game shows that I think have a lot of promise, and would like to pitch one of them to you this morning.  The first show idea would be titled Crotch Kicks for Cash (Which is not to be confused with that one clown’s show, Kicked in the Nuts).  Let’s face it, everyone loves a well placed shot to the cods, especially when it is on film and their jubilees aren’t the ones being jubileed.  The hidden camera views aren’t bad because you’re nervous and anxious, while trying both to spot the unsuspecting crotch and the angle from which the offending object will come.  Then, out of nowhere, it happens and you get a good chuckle whether you saw it coming or not.  If you were to then put that footage in slow motion, you will be able to see priceless facial gestures and the too-late-to-stop-it futile reaction of the crotch shotee.  If the record reversing, slow motion voice feature can be added to the “Oh No!” with loud crashing sounds effects once the crotch is assaulted, yuks will be had by many.

While that is all and good, Crotch Kicks for Cash will be the real hit of next season’s degradation TV schedule for one main reason: contestants will be made aware of the gonard crunching well before the first ball is ever busted.  Oh yeah, there will be no secrecy to this game.  The contestants will agree to take shots to the crotch for increasing amounts of money.  Let’s say, for like $2500, you have to take a kick to the crotch from a strong three year-old, the prosthetic leg of a French mine victim, and a Polio sufferer.  The next level would be $5000, and you would get your pistachios pinched by a high school level kicker/punter, a Jackie Chan impersonator, and a girl from a chorus line.  Reaching the $10K level would bring in the heavy footers.  In this round you’d be spreadin’ your legs, closin’ your eyes and waitin’ for the below the belt lead foot from the likes of Morten Andersen, a semi-retired Pele, the real Jackie Chan, and an angry Elaine Chow - Margaret Cho could be substituted for Elaine Chow if she’s too highfalutin, being a former Labor Secretary and all.

Bustin’ Biscuits (my second choice for the show’s title) could make a ton of dough, based on the number of people who want to quit taking symbolic crotch kicks.  Why not put your Mary Kate and Ashley’s out on the line for some money, instead of a feeling of innate wussness?  I realize the sacktasticness of the Nielsen Ratings could ultimately come down to the level of stardom of the crotch kickers, and/or the dollar amounts involved.  So to spice things up, maybe there could also be celebrity versions in the name of charity.  You could have Angelina Jolie kicking Justin Bieber in his bags to help sack-out urinary tract infections.  Your promotional advertising flyers could be “scratch and shift” stickers.  The MLB would surely go balls to the wall and contribute some type of corporate sponsorship, too.  Cup manufacturers from across the country would be vying to have some kind of  disclaimer before the show like, “Don’t try this at home…unless you’re wearing a Nuclear Nads protective device!”  I can just hear their slogan running during commercial breaks now: “Whenever you’re worried about your nads exploding, just remember to go Nuclear!”

The following is what happens when your cognitive junction functions like this: Road rash on the right side of the brain + insomnia + red wine = an inability to think quietly.

If you have never been treated to the cinematic glory of the 1987 version of Masters of the Universe, lemme give you a quick rundown of this action figure-inspired film that was made possible “By The Power of Disgraceful.”  The movie stars Dolph Lundgren as the defender of Eternia, a planet which sounds like some new SUV from the Kia Motor Company.  The all-star cast also features Courtney Cox, who is still better known as Monica Bing.  I’m not sure which is weirder, the fact she is in this movie, or that she’s married to David Arquette.  Principal Strickland from Back to the Future plays a gruff police officer whose jurisdiction apparently extends into Eternia.  I’m pretty sure Tom Byron is also a supporting actor in this visual extravaganza – you may remember him from such classic films as “Lord of Asses” and “Planet of the Gapes.”  I won’t go into the plot because it’s awful even by 80′s standards, and if the effects were any more special, they would need their own telethon.

After I had about all of the sci-fi cheesiness I could take, I happened to switch to the ethnocentrically-named American Movie Channel, number 254 on my digital dial.  And lo and behold, they were showing Rocky IV.  So basically, the Circle of Dolph Lundgren was then completed.  Just think, Ivan Drago was only one palooka away from being crowned the Master of The Universe.  Unfortunately, an exhaustive search through my channel guide revealed that neither The Punisher or Showdown in Little Tokyo was forthcoming.

If you think you have seen the movie Memento, but can not remember, does that mean you have seen it?

My night ended with a little bit of channel 334, aka the SBN, aka the Sonlife Broadcasting Network.  I changed to it because Jimmy Swaggart was what was listed as being on.  Yea, this Jimmy Swaggart.  No lie.  I guess he found a way to pull himself away from prostitutes long enough to get back on TV.  So if you’re interested in that sort of thing, for three easy payments of $19.99 you too can go to hooker heaven.  Apologies to the obscure Disney movie, All Hookers Go to Heaven.

If you read the last Hater Hall of Fame post honoring Ricky Gervais, you may remember (but probably don’t) the name Karl Pilkington.  Pilkington is a native of Manchester, England who rose to fame while working as a radio producer on Xfm London’s The Ricky Gervais Show.  I would describe him as an idiot savant – minus the savant – and the originator of more harebrained ideas than Bugs Bunny.  However, the best description I’ve heard undoubtedly came from Gervais, who characterized Karl as an “empty-headed, round-headed, shaven, chimp-like buffoon.”  Some in the media have questioned whether or not his behavior is authentic, as opposed to a caricature, but Gervais’s longtime collaborator Stephen Merchant quelled these accusations by claiming, “If we had created Karl, I would not have squandered a character that good on this poxy (slang for garbage) radio station.”

Back on September 23, 2010, Gervais and Merchant introduced the world (literally) to Pilkington when the TV show An Idiot Abroad premiered on London’s Sky1.  The premise of the show involves sending Karl to see the New Seven Wonders of the World, in an effort to broaden his horizons; but perhaps more importantly, it gives the viewer a chance to observe how Karl interacts (or reacts) when he’s immersed in a culture of which he knows absolutely nothing about.  According to Gervais, this is a true documentary-style show, because Pilkington has no prior knowledge of where he’ll be going beforehand, or what he’ll be doing after he gets there.  Thankfully, the first season of the show can now be seen in the U.S. every Saturday night on The Science Channel (check your local listings for times); but for those of you who don’t have that channel, here’s a small taste of some of the things the dumbest traveler since Bill and/or Ted has experienced thus far. A second season, titled An Idiot Abroad 2: The Bucket List, is already in the works, and is set to premiere some time in 2011.

Karl trains as a lucha libre, and fireworks ensue in Mexico:

Karl heads to Peru to check out Machu Picchu, and hangs out with some reformed cannibals:

More clips from An Idiot Abroad on YouTube.

I didn’t watch one second of one episode of Sarah Palin’s Alaska miniseries when it was on TLC, because I like my nature documentaries to be largely unscripted and devoid of political overtones.  Before it started, Palin said her goal for the show was to convey “the wonder and majesty of Alaska to all Americans.”  But after reading the following article from a USA Today writer from Alaska and watching a highlight video from the first and only season, this American is starting to wonder if her majesty knows anything about The Last Frontier.

What Palin’s Show Says About Us by Nick Jans

Sarah Palin’s Alaska, a TLC miniseries, has been quite a spectacle…Love or loathe her, this series seems a huge success at projecting the essence of Sarah to the world. And without that myth, what’s left?

However, thousands of Alaskans hold a different view. Those of us who’ve actually lived off the land are less than impressed by Palin’s televised exploits and, more important, by what they tell us about her. Tentative, physically inept, and betraying an even more awkward unfamiliarity with the land and lifestyle that’s supposedly her birthright, Palin deconstructs her own myth before our eyes.

To be sure, packaging and style have often trumped substance in American democracy…However, Sarah Palin’s Alaska seems to have ushered in a new and troubling era in our democracy: the point where a burgeoning cultural fascination with reality TV and celebrity worship intersected mainstream politics, and the three merged into one…Palin is presented as the embodiment of The Great Land itself — tough, unpretentious and aw-shucks alluring. But as she ushers us from bear viewing to bonking halibut, the Palin that emerges just doesn’t live up to her backdrop. You don’t have to be a mountain man to see past the thin veil of smoke and mirrors.

Most of the show’s escapades bear scant resemblance to the activities of most outdoors-oriented Alaskans. In fact, about half of the Palins’ “adventures” are guided trips aimed at mass-market tourists. You won’t find many Alaskans on those theme park rides, which require no skills beyond a pulse and the ability to open your wallet.

The caribou hunt episode provides a centerpiece of the series’ excesses, as well as Palin’s ineptitude. According to script, it’s Palin’s turn to replenish the family’s dwindling freezer with wild meat — from an Alaska point of view, all good. But the logistics of the trip defy common sense. Instead of hunting within reasonable distance of home, her party flies 600-plus miles to a remote camp in multiple chartered aircraft. This isn’t subsistence but the sort of experiential safari popular among high-end, non-resident sport hunters. For all that, Palin ends up with a skinny juvenile cow caribou.

Faced with that hapless animal, this darling of Second Amendment supporters nervously asks her dad whether the small-caliber rifle kicks. Then, even more astoundingly, her father repeatedly works the bolt and loads for her as she misses shot after shot before scoring a kill on the seventh round — enough bullets for a decent hunter to take down at least five animals. Later, Palin blames the scope, but any marksman would recognize the flinching, the unsteady aim and poor shot selection — and the glaring ethical fault of both shooter and gun owner if the rifle wasn’t properly sighted. Instead of some frontier passion play, we’re rendered a dark comedy of errors.

Sarah Palin’s Alaska is just back story rather than substance. But when our candidates can also produce poll-tested commercials, trot out ghost-written websites and deliver telepromptered speeches — all financed by unlimited special interest money — Americans are essentially casting votes for fictional characters. This is not an indictment of one Sarah Palin. It’s an indictment of the system.

How’s that for reality? (Full Story)