As an overweight American male, I watch a great deal of Sportscenter on ESPN. Well, someone decided to ruin a perfect show by introducing an overblown, overhyped segment called "Who's Now?" It's finally over, but the aftershock of its stupidity may haunt me for the remainder of the decade.
"Who's Now?" was where the American public votes for which spoiled athlete has the most "on- and off-field buzz".
It's yet another example of the American Idol-ization of popular culture. People just love to vote on subjects that have no bearing on their lives. Idiots flood phone lines and the internets to vote on which androgynous fop sang the best vapid pop tune and which has-been celebrity danced the best pseudo-salsa; so why not have a sport popularity contest that not only celebrates on-field excellence, but also takes into account sell-out endorsement deals and the number of b-list actresses and nightclub cocktail waitresses fucked during the off season?
And don't forget that more people vote in these insipid contests than vote for WHO'LL BE THE NEXT LEADER OF THE FREE GOD DAMN WORLD! But that's not the important part. The important part is how they're fucking up Sportscenter.
Another feature I hate is when Sportscenter drags out a morose sissy named Chris Connelly to do a feature on some kid who "overcame adversity" or an athlete who spends five minutes of time with a kid who is trying to "overcome adversity". Save it for the telethon, Weepy McWeeperton.
Before everyone dumps on me for being a heartless asshole, imagine you're watching a show you enjoy. If you like American Idol, for example, what would you think if they interrupted it to spotlight a kid whose legs were crushed by a karaoke machine? When I watch Sportscenter I want to see highlights of overpaid freaks of nature and/or banned substance abusers run, jump, catch and occasionally brawl. Bonus points if they show sideline shots of cheerleaders or other scantily clad young women. Extra bonus points if they show post-game press conference melt downs.
So, corporate vipers in charge of Sportscenter, thanks for making it damn near unwatchable. Congratulations.
Also, Tiger Woods apparently won this contest, and that bothers me. Tiger had a reputation in Vegas as a bad tipper. Sorry, but in my mind, bad tipper = bad human being. I can't get past that.
Speaking of ESPN and bad human beings, they're running ads for the baseball playoffs. Yeah, that's ok in and of itself, but the ads star myspace's own Dane Cook. Ugh. Perhaps if his funny bone was subjected to Barry Bonds' steroid regimen he'd actually say something amusing. If not, at least the steroids would shrinks his testes to the size of raisins, and that would make me laugh.
12 Comments:
raisins! wooooooo!
my legs were crushed in a tragic karaoke accident.
you can see me crying out in pain here.
There's no point in me commenting now. Nobody will read anything after seeing Kendra's picture. ROWR!
HI TODD!
Dane Cook proves that everything is funnier if you're bent over at the waist.
And I'll second the ROWR.
What constitutes being a bad tipper in Vegas if you're a zillionaire celebrity?
I opened his door and the fucker didn't even buy me a Cadillac, what a tightwad.
Sportscenter?
What is this of which you speak?
Maybe Tiger didn't have any money.
So wait... are you trying to tell me that Dane Cook repeating the same thing over and over and with an ever-escalating intensity in his voice isn't funny?
Double plus ROWR!
kendra,
will you marry me?
brooke,
are there other comments? Did I post something?
la dolce,
hey, babe. How's my favorite citizen of Seattle?
sysm,
Dane Cook also proves that there's a generation of morons with no taste who can't wait to give their money to hack comedians.
chris,
you have a point there. The sense of entitlement in the Vegas service industry is overwhelming.
april,
oh come on.
ubie,
he probably spent it all on baseball hats.
blog portland,
that's what I'm saying.
tits,
tell me about it.
One night I was playing blackjack in the MGM Grand next to a table labeled "Sir Charles". I looked over and sitting to the right of Barkley was none other than the man himself, Tiger Woods. I could hardly believe it. Starstruck was something of an understatement when you're 10 feet from the greatest golfer who ever lived. His luster wore off with a quickness, however, as he consistently cussed the dealer after every losing hand. Heretofore, he had been somewhat of a folk hero to me but not after that night.
Oh good job. Your insensitive remarks have devastated Weepy McWeeperton. Just look at him! Now say you're sorry, damnit.
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