Death and Destruction

Greetings from Illinois.

I'm here visiting family; namely, my mother…in the hospital.

Over the past few days, I've watched a sickening amount of network television while keeping my narcoleptic mother company.


Svengoolie is still on the air?

Like Matt Hardy, the infomercial for the Magic Bullet will not die. I remember seeing it last fall in Seattle.

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Actual line used in a promotional special for The WB's fall line-up: "Reba went from number one on the country music charts to the number one sitcom on The WB!"


The WB has four sitcoms.

While plugging Fox's Sunday night line-up, a football announcer mispronounced "family guy" as "family out."

I can see how GUY written sloppily might look like OUT, but "family out" doesn't make any sense.

Roger Federer's coiffure irritates me so much. I just want to light his scalp on fire.

On my way out of San Diego, a bleary-eyed (Japanese?) twenty-something resembling Christopher Lloyd's character on Taxi with the hair of Christopher Lloyd's character in Back to the Future boarded the plane. He sat down in the window seat opposite mine and promptly rested his head on a throw pillow placed atop the lap of a southeast Asian lady sitting beside him.

Once we landed at Midway, Diet Shoko Asahara — eyes now bulging like Haywire on Prison Break — began uttering the word "yes" repeatedly.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."

His timid chanting followed me off the plane and into the nearest airport restroom.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."

Exiting the restroom, I heard Broken Record's in-flight head-bearer reiterate "yes" as well, albeit less frequently.

"Hurry up. Yes. I'll be waiting by the drinking fountains. Yes."

Was "Marco Polo" too complicated? I thought.

The WB should develop a sitcom pairing "yes" man with David Spade's Capital One "no" hassler.