The Swine Flu Blues

The Great Balloon Hoax of 2009

Dear Lord, what shall we do about the Heene family? It's all so ridiculously sordid and pathetic and what about those children?! First of all, the father needs to be locked away. He should have never been allowed to breed in the first place. Here we have two people that met in an acting class and decided to have children in an effort to become famous. The family was on 'Wife Swap' and we randomly watched the episode back in the day and immediately realized that the show was not for us. The father, Richard Heene, threw milk on the visiting mother and it was all so disgusting and sad and we vowed never to watch the show again...a promise we have kept to this day. Unfortunately, we did watch Jon & Kate Plus Eight for several seasons because we are all about TLC and those kids are gosh darn cute. Sure, we thought Kate was a controlling, maniacal insane person, but it all seemed to work and the kids were having fun and that was that. Now? God help all those kids.

Another Saturday Night

Our little Bobby is now 5 months old and weighs 20 pounds! For our loyal readers that are wondering what our take on Jon & Kate is...or holy crap! the Balloon Boy, we're totally on that, too...but we need to get these little snippets up for Bobby's family that lives around the country. And thank you for all the emails telling us how cute he is. We totally agree. And yes, we just used totally twice in one post. Totally awesome.

Yummy Camera

Tummy Time

Papa's Birthday

Bobby And The Pups Talk It Out

Happy Happy Joy Joy

B is for Bobby

We've been crazy busy with our little bundle of joy so the blog has fallen by the wayside. As priorities have shifted for us, we'll probably just be using the site to post cute stuff these days with the occasional celebrity snark story thrown in when the mood strikes. Another video below...because we're all about the Bobby.

Bravo Must Stop this Shameless Exploitation of the Handicapped

We thought Bravo pushed the boundaries of good taste in "Real Housewives" by showcasing the survival stories of middle-aged women horribly disfigured by plastic surgery gone awry and their struggle to overcome various anger-management issues. With its newest show, "NYC Prep," Bravo has clearly blown past that boundary. We do not find it amusing to watch what appears to be the end result of Bravo producers encouraging a group of special-needs children to drink alcohol and parade around like high-society douche-bags.
But seriously: This show makes it look like everyone in the "elite" circle of Manhattan's private schools is either retarded or inbred.

Spencer Pratt: "Float like a Douchebag, Fight like a Girl"

If Spencer Pratt actually has a purple belt in Jiu-Jitsu- as claimed by girlfriend Heidi Montag in a weak, desperate attempt to talk him up in front of her parents and an ex-boyfriend- whichever school gave him that belt has some explaining to do. First and foremost: why does he punch like a girl? Yes- Jiu-Jitsu focuses on submission grappling rather than striking, but the emergence of mixed martial arts has proven that an effective fighter must develop a well-rounded proficiency, developing either grappling or stand-up to the detriment of the other at his own peril. We suspect that Heidi and Spencer put their heads together and made up this alleged purple belt to wipe some of the pansy off Spencer's image after his disgraceful performance on the Hills' season premiere: "Sure, he sucker-punched a guy with an uppercut and then proceeded to slap at him with his fist in a tomohawk-like motion, but his triangle choke is tight." Giving a bearded person an abrasion with an uppercut that he does not expect (because honestly, what kind of barbarian starts fights in this day and age?) fails to impress us. One of us recently received a cut on the face inflicted by a mere left hook, through gloves and protective head gear. It's not that big a deal. We will post the fight video as soon as MTV makes the full episode available. In the meantime you can catch a glimpse of Spencer playing patty-cakes in this season 5 preview.

The Hills - MTV Shows

Regardless of the veracity of Spencer's proficiency at a fighting style from a school that is behind the times and fosters aggresion, hostility, and douchiness in its students-as opposed to the usual values of self-respect, -discipline, and -control- he effectively applies a Jiu-Jitsu strategy to his relationship with Heidi. Having wrapped himself around her like an ever-tightening boa constrictor, he has brought her down, isolated and immobilized. Now, he proceeds to finish it of by smothering the life out of her.

Jim Cramer Stands Outside Studio of "The Daily Show" for Two Weeks, Barefoot, in the Snow

Please, humor us for a few moments as we discuss last weeks biggest entertainment story: a story widely discussed both in anticipation and aftermath, which leaves little demand for the revelation of what our untrained eyes perceive. We refer, of course, to the come-to-Jesus-talk between Jon Stewart and wayward financial reporter Jim Cramer- present as a representative of his network-large ship of fools, CNBC. (Actually a raping, pillaging pirate ship, according to your source. From this apparently subtle distinction emerged the tension which made the interview so bizarre, but more on that later.) We expected more of a battle royale. Anticipation of the confrontation built for a week- complete with the back-and-forth televised jabs necessarry for all celebrity feuds- and nearly reached its boiling point as Cramer smashed Stewart in doughy effigy on the Martha Stewart show. Considering the personalities involved (Economists,-particularly the televised ones, specifically Cramer- strike us as arrogant, argumentative, dogmatic, and unwilling to admit fault or error. Stewart, while not making any claims to debating prowess, has gone toe-to-dialectal-toe with a variety of opponents.) it came as a surprise when Cramer made every possible effort to appease his accuser. Well, it turns out that the "Mad Money" host didn't have a leg on which to stand. Observe:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	M - Th 11p / 10c
Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 1
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We originally thought that Cramer's willingness to apologize for a vast array of journalistic malfeasance- incompetence, negligence, and a mildly incestuous relationship with the business leaders on whom he reports- originated from a strategy to avoid confessing to the gravest crime of which Stewart accused him: near-criminal facilitation of the manipulations perpetrated by the financial blood-suckers on Wall Street- a form of PR plea-bargain. In any case- the two cable news personalities must never have struck any bargain, or Cramer will soon follow the last hack who displeased Stewart- Tucker Carlson- into exile in journalistic Siberia. His infraction of the apparently non-existent plea-bargain occured on the Today Show. Cramer described Stewart's accusations as "naive and misleading," and attributed his unwillingness to point out Stewart's myopia at a more appropriate moment (say, for example, during their half-hour conversation) to a trained reflex to "take the high road." Apparently, one follows this righteous path by telling people what they want to hear when it suits you and strut around as you recant the next week. Why bother doing interviews if the guests just jerk off the hosts and then act like it doesn't mean anything?


We're guessing that right before the mics turned on, John Stewart got into Cramer's head with something along the lines of: "Listen, you cocksucker, I lost a fortune on your bogus financial advice, so don't piss me off. I will not hesitate to stab you." Nothing else explains how contrite ass-kissing could revert back to hubris and arrogance once safely out of shiv-range. Unless, of course, Cramer is just a gigantic, soulless pussy.

Comedy What of Who?

We died a little inside upon our first viewing of commercials for "Comedy Central Presents the Friar's Club Roast of Larry the Fuck-wad." We find it unacceptable that someone should base a career on not only making people comfortable in their ignorance and crassness, but actually reveling in his own redneck-ness. At least Jeff Foxworthy was tongue-in-cheek about it. However: shortly after we finished wondering "who is Lisa Lampanelli and why must the Friar's Club constantly remind us that she is old, fat, and has sex with a lot of black men?" we had a revelation that mildly alleviated our dismay and dissapointment. Most of these roasts select as their subjects celebrities who were prominent at one point but reached their peak in the distant past. (Bob Saget and Bill Shatner would be the two most appropriate examples, but this principle applies to all the other participants. Jeff Foxworthy, Larry's mildly better half, was roasted long after everyone stopped parroting "you might be a redneck" jokes.) Since Larry has never approached superstardom, emerged from his own b-movie quagmire, or even transcended riding Foxworthy's coattails, we can only assume that this roast will shift the balance between honoring and ridiculing the roastee far in the direction of the latter. That's at least what we'll tell ourselves to get to sleep at night.

Roast of Larry the Cable GuySunday March 15, 10p/9c

Preview - Lampanelli on Git-R-Done

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Phish Swim Upstream

With all the media coverage of the Britney Spears comeback tour and Michael Jackson's announcement that he will soon hit the road with some sort of massive traveling freak show, spring and its accompanying rejuvenation are in the air. The whole extravaganza might make you wonder if spring is an illusion and winter will never end, because Britney's act looks about as rejuvenated as a well-manicured corpse, and Michael Jackson just looks like a dead, gay mannequin. (And we all know Justin Timberlake already took that award, albeit alive.) Despair not, our friends. Springtime is real. You just have to look a little harder. Jamband legends Phish performed three reunion shows this weekend in Hampton, Va. These guys don't need to put on some elaborate three-ring-circus extravaganza to infuse the illusion of vitality into their performance. What a novel idea: musicians reviving their career by getting together and playing great fucking music. I would have advised hiring David Weintraub as an agent and whoring themselves out on reality television, or becoming the first jamband to give birth to octuplets. We've provided a clip of their opener, Fluffhead. In their infinite jammy generosity, the band has provided free recordings of the entire weekend. Which brings us to our original point: with the music industry pushed to the verge of insolvency by the internet, maybe some high-level cororpate flack should take a cue from bands like Phish, who can actually promote the free distribution of their material over the internet and still turn a profit by putting on a great show.

Octo-Douchetraub: The Next Hollywood Power Couple?

We have refrained from making any comments on this "Octomom" debacle. The reasons for this include an unwillingness to make light of the saddening circumstances forced upon fourteen innocent children by Suleman's madness and our anticipation of receiving little satisfaction from an activity much like shooting fish in a barrel. (Here is a perfect example of the distastefulness of this subject: we might have said "like stealing candy from a baby who has no ability to hold onto candy because his crazy mother implanted her uterus with six embryos and consequently is extremely premature, undernourished, and faces serious potential health problems-" but that would be just plain wrong and sad.) Regardless- we will circumvent the morass of Octomom's multi-faceted insanity, as that is plain for all to see. Instead, we would like to make a small suggestion, in light of the recent departure of a second publicist: she should just enroll in the David Weintraub talent agency. Considerations that probably deterred previous publicists- such as greed, sanity, decency, dignity, his clients' well-being, etc- clearly mean very little to him.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely, Wii- Addicted Teenager

The Beatles earned a place in history as the voice of their generation: both voice and generation questioned commonly accepted values-including consumerism and materialism- and exalted creativity, originality, imagination, and individuality. To this day, their music remains emblematic of the dynamic, turbulent period of the 1960s. This, even after Michael Jackson's purchase of the rights to many of their songs, and the subsequent use of those songs to sell expensive electronic devices and- more broadly- maintain our societal mass-deception that consumption provides the key to a satisfying existence. The release of Beatles: Rock Band neatly absolves this tension between the values evoked by the fab four's opus and its contemporary exploitation by corporate America. For a small fee, modern technology can now bring the joy and pleasure of creativity without the hassle of learning an instrument or the risk of originality. We know that it would give John Lennon pleasure to see his life's work put to such great purpose. Next year, Wii will put out a game that simulates taking a principled stand against overwhelming opposition and established authority. It's pretty boring, (a lot of standing resolutely, etc.) but its value as an opiate of the masses is incalculable.

Jonas Brothers Molested by David Weintraub

While we cannot help but indulge in schadenfreude at the sight of bubble-gum pop boy-band The Jonas Brothers failing to edge out the third installment of the quirky "Madea" franchise, we detect some disturbing trends here. (On a side note: we hope you appreciate the hardship we must undergo to bring you the following keen insight, as we just did a Google search for the Jonas Brothers, which might officially make us gay.)
Clearly- and you hardly need us to tell you this- Hollywood is doomed. With last year's writers strike and a potential actors strike looming, (both concerning compensation for material intended for broadcast over the medium that is forcing the established powers in the entertainment industry to adapt or go extinct) nobody seems to ask what this compensation is for, other than a rapidly eroding monopoly on Americans' avenues of mental escape. We can hardly blame the Jonas Brothers for sucking. We can, however, ask of the entertainment industry: "what the fuck?" regarding their collective creation and maintenance of a media environment in which a trio of effeminate teenage boys playing shitty music end up carrying the banner for a weekend of entertainment . If somebody doesn't pick up the slack soon, movies, scripts, screenwriters, and what little creative talent remains in Hollywood will soon find itself replaced by legions of crazy, attention hungry reality-TV zombies and shows featuring families containing an unhealthily large number of children, wives, husbands, mistresses, DUIs, plastic surgery operations, pets, ghosts, washed-up rock-and-rollers, obsessions, compulsions, beauty pageant trophies, and whatever else our fickle, excess-obsessed collective attention happens to land upon. Once this happens, all the members of SAG will become washed-up former celebrities, so David Weintraub will enroll all of them in his talent agency and proceed to pimp them out for all sorts of demeaning work and act like a douche. Congratulations.

David Weintraub: The Way of the Future

David Weintraub is a pimp. Just to avoid any ambiguity: we do not intend our usage of the word "pimp" to carry with it any of its positive, pop-culture connotations. Do not picture a "Hustle & Flow," bad-environment, decent-at-heart kind of pimp- or even this meth-head depicted by the Montana Meth Project, as he can partially blame his disgraceful, exploitative behavior on the ravages of addiction. Think Harvey Keitel's character in "Taxi Driver:" a soulless, manipulative predator whose abhorrent actions render a violent, disturbed Travis Bickle incapable of allowing the existence of such an abomination to continue. The roster of "talent" that Weintraub manages makes it painfully obvious that- unlike an agent who ideally helps his clients reach their full creative and professional potential- this douchebag systematically extracts and transforms into seedy mass-entertainment the souls of his clients, along with their hopes and dreams. The emotional abuse he heaps on Marey Carey in "Sober House" confirms this. If the appearance into which Wein-douche pressures her weren't a swinger's convention, this situation would be a little more metaphorical. But it's not. It's literal, and it's gross.

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As you can see, Weintraub's sleazy moves don't fly with traffic cops like they do with vulnerable, addiction-plagued celebrities. However- we fear that whatever impediments lie in the path of this particular douchebag, nothing can stop the rise of a ruling class of omnipresent uber-douches. As the distinctness of reality/TV/reality-TV/non-reality; on-camera/behind the scenes; social interaction/performance; and audience/spectacle progresses from imprecise to irrellevant to non-existent, sociopaths will flourish. Weintraub only amounts to a crass prototype. Future models will build on his model, developing subtlety and an awareness of the importance of appearing like a decent person. Moving fluidly through a vast network that thrives on sheer sensational volume and whose influence extends into our homes and our lives, these uber-douches will accumulate enormous, multi-faceted power that they will wield to meet the needs of a system in which human suffering and conflict generate ratings and success.
We just hope that everyone keeps in mind that overindulgence in reality TV empowers all the little David Weintraubs of the world. Nobody wants this guy: to be broadcast into the homes of millions of Americans and people across the world.

From the Red Carpet to the Picket Line

Hollywood's stars will need all of the positive qualities they ceaselessly identified in each other during Sunday night's entertainment-industry ego-inflation ceremony, because a dispute between the SAG and the major studios could soon render these icons of the silver screen indefinitely unemployed. Once again, this looks like a case of the internet ruining everything: the dispute centers on compensation for work intended for online viewing. We have just one question: Does the cast of "The Hills" have to join in the strike? Maybe they'll half strike, because their show appears staged and scripted but nobody exhibits any talent. Could this explain the mystery behind Spencer's bizarre hanging-over-the-mouth cowboy mustache as half of a strike beard? The only other possible explanation is that anyone in a position to call attention to the absurdity of this facial hair debacle chooses not to because Spencer is a douchebag- but that couldn't be the case.

Most Fabulous Oscars Ever

Hugh Jackman loves a musical number. While nothing so far tonight makes as alarming a blip on the gaydar as his performance at the Tony Awards, we think it's pretty obvious that something is going on here.



And what happened to clips? Why do previous award winners have to protest their love for all the actor nominees? You know what would help illustrate the inspiration for those emotions? A clip.

On a Lighter Note.....

After the relative heaviness of our previous discussion, we thought we'd showcase some mindless entertainment. The following is only tangentially related to current events. We would simply like to point out some key elements of this martial arts action that make it different from the acts perpetrated by Chris Brown and anyone else who calls himself a man yet hits a woman. Most importantly, at no point does Jet Li HIT A WOMAN. Also, he has control over his emotions, which matters in that it allows him to NOT HIT A WOMAN. Finally, he doesn't hit a woman, which is important because anyone who hits a woman reveals himself to be weak and pathetic. That being said, enjoy:



Our next clip is an old, odd classic known as "Old Gregg" which we find inexplicably hilarious. This too, is only tangentially connected to current events, in that anyone who hits a woman might as well have a mangina and wear a tutu. We happen to know a creepy old man named Greg who apparently condones the slamming of doors onto pregnant women. He resembles a less comical version of the man-fish you are about to see, so consider this a cautionary tale, Chris Browns of the world.

Obama Draws the Crazies out of the Woodwork

From McCain/Palin supporters intent on turning campaign rallies into lynch-mobs to cartoonists passing off thinly veiled metaphors for racist violence against our President as humor, Barack Obama's presidency doesn't exactly to promote subtlety- among other things- in his political opponents. While not quite as ugly as (although sometimes overlapping with) individuals with racially-based misgivings towards Obama, economic dissenters are equally prone to pant-wetting hysteria. Most conspicuously, Rick Santelli treated the TV-viewing public to a tantrum of epic proportions resulting from three possible causes: 1- A total loss of his shit, akin to a little child who just found out he will not get to ride the pony at his own birthday party; 2-A shameless desire to gain publicity by screaming simplistic economic ideas that would not be noteworthy if uttered at a reasonable volume; 3-A plan to send the video of his rant as an audition tape for a spot on the upcoming launch of "Real Housewives: Chicago."



This video is remarkable not for anything original or even all that intelligent in its message, but for its inherent contextual irony and its rapid proliferation on cable news by virtue of its sensational content. Santelli, a former derivatives trader, arouses populist sentiment on a trading floor against the "losers" struggling to stay afloat in economic circumstances beyond their control- circumstances created in part by Mr. Santelli and his ilk. The fact that he caps it off with "this is America-" referring to traders on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange- puts this in the "let them eat cake" league of out-of-touch, arrogant, douchebag elitism. The fact that a "journalist" would be rewarded with publicity for so flagrantly violating the standards of his profession confirms that cable news now takes its cues from reality TV: make as big a scene as possible and maybe you get your own spin-off.

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Finally: As far as "losers" are concerned, we would like to ask Mr. Santelli what you call a hack reporter who, rather than excel at his job, draws attention to himself by acting like a less rational version of Joe the Plumber and the cast of "Tool Academy." If we really need somebody to quote Ayn Rand at us, we'll just watch "Real Housewives of New York City." Alex McCord has us covered in that department.

Kenan Thompson: SNL Should Emulate "Jerry Springer"

Apparently Kenan Thompson thinks SNL should still welcome the fists-of-misogyny-tarnished pop singer Chris Brown on the show- contingent upon his release of a hit single. He even went so far as to say that it would be "crazy" if both Brown and Rihanna appeared on the show together. Apparrently, his talent in comedy does not carry over to public relations. We like Thompson, but would prefer that he stick to making jokes: the only appropriate context of these recent inane comments.

G.O.P. Chairman Unveils Pathetic, Desperate Strategy to Restore Party's Relevance

Sadly, events call upon us to take a step back from the sensible "Lost" island and its adherence to rational principles. Once again we must plunge into another man-made hell of absurdity - in this case, the tortured collective psychosis of the undead political organization known as the Republican Party.

Apparently GOP chairman Michael Steele wants to extreme-makeover his party for the 21st century, with hip-hop. This is not as much of a stretch as most people might think. If you assume that all African-Americans resemble-with little variation- the caricatures presented in certain gangster rap videos, (and we're guessing that many in the party of Limbaugh share exactly this assumption) Republicans and "black people" actually have a lot in common. Guns, materialism, lawlessness, and bogus invocations of "God" could all bridge the gap between these seemingly disparate groups. Maybe Steele can court Chris Brown (who recently demonstrated -albeit a little over zealously- his adherence to the misogynistic outlook of the GOP) as a cultural ambassador.

New Character to Debut on Tonight's Episode of "Lost:" Kilgore Trout

Meanwhile, in a place slightly less disconnected from reality than the faux-celebrity, faux-high-society, nightmare wasteland of "Real Housewives" from which we barely escaped with our sanity, "Lost" continues to exceed our expectations.

However, we do hope that they resolve this whole mess with the island's inhabitants skipping through time. Aside from the fact that excessive theatrical time travel gives us anxiety, the show's creators risk losing (no pun intended) us in another incoherent morass. Grandiose literary comparisons/aspirations notwithstanding, everyone needs to stay grounded and remember this is pop television, not Kurt Vonnegut.

The Sun Never Sets on "Real Housewives"

Holy continuity. As the OC crew hands it off to the East Coast, we cannot help but contemplate the glorious possibility of a rotation that allows for the constant airing of new episodes of the "Real Housewives" franchise. It's the same basic idea behind the perpetual adoration chapel at your local Catholic church, only dedicated to the adoration of gossip-mongering, shallowness, and bitchiness rather than the traditional favorites of holiness and chastity. Pulling this off shouldn't present too much of a challenge, given the apparent abundance of bat-shit crazy women desperate to appear on television. If they must add one more city to the franchise, so be it. The madness only gets more balls-to-the-wall with each succesive iteration.
Alex McCord apparently got a haircut and did something about her teeth. Unfortunately she still annoys the hell out of us. This clearly demonstrates the simple truth that internal ugliness can co-exist with external beauty. That being said, we would not describe McCord as even approaching beautiful. She looks like a skeleton.
To be perfectly honest, we are in something of a state of shock. Tonight's two-hour extravaganza was by far the longest some of us have been exposed to the "Real Housewives." This has precipitated a minor crisis regarding our faith in humanity, which we previously didn't imagine capable of such unimaginable horror. As such, we will put on hold our planned discussions - "How gay is Simon?" "What planet is Ramona from?" "Why does Bethanny have softballs hanging helter-skelter from her chest in the pool?" etc.- until we emerge from the fetal position.

And the "Gay Mannequin of the Year" Award Goes To...

Justin Timberlake, according to GQ's list of the ten most stylish men in America. Maybe we're old-fashioned, but we can't help but see "most stylish man of the year" as an oxymoronical title. This is based partly on personal experience: we know a "stylish man" who prances around with women's sunglasses hanging from half-buttoned shirts and spreads bogus rumors about women as part of a desperate attempt to obscure his repressed homosexual impulses. Maybe in the interest of balance between the genders GQ's next issue should feature a list of which ten female celebrities consume the most chewing tobacco.
Apparently JT credits his fashion sense to his "stepfather....who went to work looking like Richard Gere in American Gigolo." This raises some questions: How, exactly, did JT's inspiration get away with showing up half-naked at his job? More importantly, why would a grown man's father-figure take on the image of a male prostitute in a cherished childhood memory? Gross.

On a serious note: why does society persist in these absurd attempts to inflate the egos of famous people by handing out bogus awards? We fail to see how this particular list could possibly be meant for any other purpose- such as the entertainment and education of GQ's subscribers. If the proliferation of infinitely redundant award ceremonies created by the entertainment industry so it can collectively/incestuously pat itself on the back didn't fill the void in joe-celebrity's psyche, some bullshit ranking for "cutting-edge hairdo," or "bountiful flower arrangements in home" will hardly finish the job. It's a viscous cycle, and it needs to stop.

The City....In My Pants

We refuse to pay our full attention to "The City," as it is clearly the flagship in Hulu's assault on our brains.



But seriously, what the fuck is going on here? If it weren't so utterly mindless, this show would blow our minds with the baffling questions it raises regarding the line between reality and theater/performance and what happens to that line when an observable phenomenon doesn't come close to meeting the qualifications for either of these categories.

Tamarama - The City - MTV Shows

This poses an extraordinary danger that goes far beyond the cultural wasteland that will result from an explosion of musical performances that combine the staleness of a studio recording with the technical proficiency of an amateurish live performance and the energy of an opium den. If reality TV and real life continue to fuse and reproduce and spew out this twisted non-reality abomination, real life as we know it could cease to exist. We will explain how exactly how this calamity will unfold shortly. For now, we just want to make sure you know that The City is a black hole that threatens to engulf and destroy reality as we know it.

Is "Sober House" Stupid, Ironic or Just Cruel?

Clearly we are naive and have yet to get hip to the logic of contemporary reality TV, because our first reaction to VH1's vicious-cycle-recovery-relapse-extravaganza took on an element of smug superiority: "Obviously this environment will lead them to a relapse with the pressure of the cameras, etc..." We will not arrogantly presume to be smarter then the big-wigs who created "Sober House-" just more humane and decent, apparently.

The individuals responsible for this travesty must know that the putative clean living facility they've created for our viewing pleasure includes all the ingredients of an adult Lord of The Flies. We can't help but applaud the brilliance in devising a way to televise the ordeals of celebrities with substance abuse issues that garner so much attention. Accomplishing this, however, requires putting vulnerable individuals in need of genuine help and support under what amounts to the magnifying class of individuals playing God by sadistically incinerating insects. We would expect this indifference to human suffering from soulless TV executives, but Dr. Drew, who supposedly took an oath to do no harm, has earned himself a special place in Hell for his part in this modern-day equivalent of a Roman Coliseum.To continue the coliseum metaphor, David Douchetraub serves the same purpose as a lion sent to devour hapless Christians. He is a big, dumb animal whose arrogance, egoism, and generally obnoxious behavior inflicts psychological carnage on the show's participants at a vastly faster rate than they would inflict it on each other- their various destructive instincts restrained by basic human decency and the delusion that anyone expects-or even wants- "Sober House" to resemble its bullshit title.

Ayn Rand: Real Housewife of New York City

If the arrogance, soulless materialism, and inhumanly large forehead didn't exactly spell out a connection between real housewife, Alex McCord, and prophet of Godless capitalism, Ayn Rand, we have (somewhat belatedly) stumbled upon undeniable evidence that the would-be socialite adheres to Rand's so-called philosophy of objectivism. While catching up with the housewives in fevered anticipation of next Tuesday's premiere, McCord quoted, approximately: "if you observe something that you think is a contradiction, check your premises, because one of them is wrong." This reeks of Atlas Shrugged. Nobody quotes Ayn Rand unless they actually buy into her bullshit.
While the ordeal of watching McCord's shallow social-climbing is not as compelling an example of the destructive influence of Ayn Rand's legacy as that of former fed chairman/John Galt wannabe Alan Greenspan's ideological preference for reckless deregulation (which contributed directly to the financial meltdown of 2008), we can't just let this slide. It takes a special kind of stupid to consider yourself smarter than everybody else just because you've read a fictional account of an individual who is smarter than everybody else. At least they aren't scientologists.