Category Archives: Boob Tubery

This Season on “Complicated Antihero”

HBO’s critically acclaimed series COMPLICATED ANTIHERO returns for another season of gritty, uncompromising drama.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO wakes up in a seedy motel room next to a stripper who is totally naked and nude but still asleep. The end table is strewn with empty fifths of Jack and overturned pill bottles. He sits up in bed and places his weary head in his heads while we hear Metallica’s cover of “Turn the Page.”

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO

You try to be a good man. But what is a good man? What is good? What is right and what is wrong? What is “is”? Does anything mean something anymore? Not from where I’m sitting.

CUT TO: COMPLICATED ANTIHERO pouring wet concrete down a snitch’s throat.

* * *

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO is at his EX-WIFE’s house. She smokes and looks on disapprovingly while he watches his  SON play with blocks. He has a look of paternal pride mixed with an immutable element of sadness and also wears a badass leather jacket.

EX-WIFE

You wanna be a father to him now, after all this time? You’re gonna teach him right from wrong? (sardonic laughter) You ain’t no father.

COMPLICATED ANTI-HERO

You think you know what a father is? You think anybody knows what a father is? You think anybody knows anything?

CUT TO: COMPLICATED ANTIHERO running over the mayor with a tank.

* * *

Police interrogation room. COMPLICATED ANTIHERO sits handcuffed to a desk and his face is a little beat up but not so much we can’t see his eyes still burn with righteous indignation over all the world’s injustice. His nemesis, DETECTIVE WISNIEWSKI, gets right in his face.

DETECTIVE WISNIEWSKI

You might beat this rap, scumbag, but mark my words, I will take you down if I have to do it all by myself. Because YOU represent everything that’s wrong with this world. We used to have RULES. We used to have RIGHT and WRONG. We used to have CLEARLY DEFINED BORDERS BETWEEN THINGS.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO lets out a wan laugh.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO

Did we?

CUT TO: COMPLICATED ANTIHERO whipping everyone in a subway car with a bike chain lit on fire.

* * *

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO sits in a confessional, his hands clasped in prayer and clutching a rosary.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO

I used to have faith, Father. I used to believe in things like right and wrong. But I don’t see them in this world no more.

PRIEST

I wish I could tell you otherwise, my son. But I’m afraid I don’t see them in this world either.

A single tear runs down COMPLICATED ANTIHERO’s cheek, lit by the slightest hint of moonlight creeping through a latticed window. It also lights up his stubble and makes it look great.

CUT TO: COMPLICATED ANTIHERO forcing some dude to eat an anvil.

* * *

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO genuflects at his FATHER’s hospital bed. There’s tubes up his father’s nose  because he’s gonna die of some cancer thing.  COMPLICATED ANTIHERO grasps his father’s wizened hands in his own and chokes back the tears welling in his throat.

COMPLICATED ANTI-HERO

You never cared for me, Pop! You never taught me right from wrong! You never taught me nothin’!

DYING FATHER

I taught you the most important lesson of all, son. There ain’t no right and wrong in this world.

DOCTOR

So, let’s see how our patient is doing…

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO pistol-whips DOCTOR with crash cart.

* * *

 A dream sequence. COMPLICATED ANTIHERO watches helplessly as a bird pecks away at his hands, eating the flesh all the way to the bone. The bird flies away.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO wakes up, in a different motel room next to a different totally naked nude stripper. He sits at the edge of the bed and rests his head in his hands.

COMPLICATED ANTIHERO

What does it mean? What does anything mean?

CUT TO: COMPLICATED ANTIHERO throwing a flaming school bus at an orphanage.

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And now, without further ado, we present our recap of episode 507, “The One Where Wrathmire Kills Galdarf and Assumes the Throne, Only to Be Thwarted By His Bitterest Rival and Burned Alive”

Embracing the Audience of One

Years ago, I worked on a biography of Jean Shepherd, performing research and doing interviews with people who worked with him. As I’ve written on this site many times, Shepherd is one of my artistic heroes, someone whose craft I admire as something uniquely his own which has no real parallel before or since. But the more I delved into his life, the more it seemed he was a damaged, strange man.

It was difficult to find people who knew Shepherd in his heyday and were also willing and able to talk. Many of his contemporaries and friends had died; others, like Jules Feiffer and Paul Krassner, proved difficult to contact. The same went for people I knew or suspected were influenced by him. I was aware Terry Gilliam had been a Shep fan in his youth, and I even had some contact info for the man, since the company I worked for had done a few books about his films. Alas, he did not return my faxes. (Yes, this was a long time ago.) Garrison Keillor wrote me a brief but polite letter in which he stated he grew up in Minnesota and therefore Shepherd–whose primary radio work was done in New York–didn’t really have any influence on him.

One of the few people who’d worked with him whom I was both able to get in touch with and wanted to talk to me was Fred Barzyk, who had produced most of Shepherd’s television work for PBS. At Barzyk’s invite, I was able to go to the WGBH archives in Boston and view some of these shows, most of which have not been seen on TV in decades. This included an odd show where Shep stood on a dock in Boston Harbor and delivered a version of his radio show there directly to the camera, monologuing for half an hour and then abruptly stopping.

Continue reading Embracing the Audience of One

Mad Men and the Excuse of Truth

The Times‘s City Room blog had a post earlier this week that I found fascinating, from a writer’s perspective. It concerned the season debut of Mad Men; specifically, a scene in which ad execs from Young & Rubicam dump water on civil rights protestors. In reaction to this indignity, one of the protestors says, “And they call us savages.”

Many critics found the line clunky, but the words were taken verbatim from the Times report about the real-life 1966 incident that the scene mimics. About this particular line of dialogue, the show’s creator, Matt Weiner, said, “His story was such that I thought it inviolable.”

Now, Weiner has created one of the most critically acclaimed shows of our era, while I have written three as-yet unpublished novels and way too many words about Edgardo Alfonzo. However, I have to raise a slight objection to this line of thinking. Because as far as I’m concerned, when it comes to writing, nothing is “inviolable.”

Continue reading Mad Men and the Excuse of Truth

New Additions to the Halloween Wheelhouse

If I have a wheelhouse, it’s Cheesy Stuff From the Mid 1980s to Mid 1990s, whether it’s old ads, weird kids shows, or crummy movies. I like to think of myself as, if not an expert, then at least an amateur historian. My goal is to be the first person to get a MacArthur Genius Grant on the basis of studies into Heinz Homestyle Gravy.

That’s why I was taken by surprise this weekend when, while visiting relatives this weekend, my cousin squealed with delight upon hearing that Teen Witch was on TV. I assumed she meant the long running Melissa Joan Hart vehicle, but no. She was referring to an exquisitely 80s movie that heretofore floated under my radar. Which was bizarre, because if you read this site, you know I remember far more useless junk than any non-crazy person should.

Apparently, Teen Witch went the Office Space route: making barely any money at the box office, but finding a new life on cable. From what I can gather, it has built up quite a Cult of Cheese, one that I was completely oblivious to until now. I only managed to see a good 45 minutes of this masterpiece, but oh my, what a 45 minutes they were.

It’s not fair to try and recap all the singular weirdness contained in Teen Witch. The film is not really awful–I’ve seen much, much worse–but it does have several touches in it that simply do not make sense. My theory is, Teen Witch was made by someone with a very particular vision who was allowed to realize that vision completely. Or, it was passed through so many hands in Development Hell that it eventually became a Frankensteinian monster.

However, if you’ve never seen it, I thought you might “enjoy” this scene in which several very Caucasian teens engage in a “rap battle.” Really, it’s more of a “rap scrimmage.” But it remains an interesting artifact from the era when rap was considered both very hip and eminently easy to do. “All they do is talk over the music and move their arms and stuff. Just get some kids to do it. How hard could it be?”

After I tweeted about this, I received some online confirmation that I was indeed far behind the curve when it came to Teen Witch. I also received a link from @ryankelly for another bit of Halloween movie weirdness I’d never seen before. This is a clip from the British made-for-TV move The Worst Witch, in which Tim Curry performs a showstopping number “Anything Can Happen on Halloween.” God help me, even though the instrumentation is Casio-heavy and the lyrics a little silly, this song is not all that bad. Perhaps it’s the performance. Curry’s vocals make it sound like an outtake from Diamond Dogs. I’m not sure it isn’t, to be honest.

Oh, You Men

Words can not truly express how little I care for Men. There are individual males who I care for very deeply, but as far as the fate of Men as a whole, what is happening to Men, where have Men been going and where have Men been? Yawn. Gender roles have changed and evolved an awful lot in the last 50 years, and for the better, I’d say. But even if you think not, getting upset about it seems as pointless as yelling at the weather.

For a long time, I thought most folks felt the same way, even accounting for the fact that I live in the grand pansexual paradise of New York City. The grand debates of What Is Man? had largely disappeared from public discourse, I thought, banished to the same dusty corner of the intellectual attic as “Who lost China?!”

But apparently I thought too soon, because lately I’ve noticed a severe flare up of the mentality of WON’T SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK OF THE MAN-CHILDREN?! Or, at the very least, segments of the media that hope to capitalize on that sentiment. And sadly, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this has happened just as gay rights have made their biggest strides in maybe forever. It seems a very calculated move to prey on the fears and hates of people who are worried that someone somewhere may be doing something that makes them uncomfortable. All while employing a notion of Manliness that would be unrecognizable to previous generations of men.

Continue reading Oh, You Men

Cable TV Remembers 9/11

HOW ‘ER GOT DONE (History Channel): Larry the Cable Guy narrates this special on the building of the 9/11 Memorial and gets in on the action, learning how to operate a jackhammer and accidentally destroying a marble panel engraved with the names of several slain firefighters. “Blasphemously inappropriate,” says The New York Times.

THE TOP 100 9/11s OF ALL TIME (VH1): A look back at all the September 11s in recorded history. Where does 2001 rank? The answer may shock you! With Hal Sparks, Michael Ian Black, and former CIA director Leon Panetta.

THE GEORGE W. BUSH 9/11 INTERVIEW–AFTER DARK (National Geographic Channel): The former president remembers the heady moments immediately following the terrorist attacks while sharing a smoke and few highballs with Hugh Hefner and the Playboy Bunnies. Musical guest: Dave Brubeck.

FROM THE ASHES: THE HEALING POWER OF CELEBRITY (Bravo): Some of the world’s biggest stars come together to remind us of how their shining examples of strength gave us the power to pull through such dark times.

THE TOWERS FALLING AND PEOPLE SCREAMING AND COVERED WITH TOXIC DUST AND IN PAIN OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL YOU WANNA FUCKING KILL YOURSELF (CNN): This is CNN’s Yule Log.

MY PET GOAT (CSPAN): This special edition of Book Talk features a dramatic reading of the classic children’s tale, punctured by a lengthy, eerily uncomfortable pause.

ENTREPRENEURS (CNBC): Maria Bartiromo profiles some of the enterprising people who sell all manner of 9/11-related tchotchkes within feet of the former World Trade Center site, and somehow resists the urge to kick them in the balls.

COMFORT FOOD (Food Network): Paula Deen and Rachel Ray share the best recipes for dishes to eat in enormous quantities in one sitting when nothing else will chase away the demons of reality.

THE CONCERT FOR NEW YORK CITY (MTV): Ooof, this is tough to watch now. I mean, it’s just really weird. Did you know Dennis Leary is in this thing? But I guess we gotta, huh? Yeah, I guess.

THE PHYSICS OF CRASHING PLANES INTO STUFF (Science Channel): Want to know exactly how two jets could take down two of the two tallest buildings in the country and kill thousands? No? Too bad, we’re going over it in excruciating detail anyway.

72 STRAIGHT HOURS OF LAW & ORDER, LIKE ALWAYS (USA): Just watch this, okay?

Edifice Wrecks and Rock Star Come-Uppance

A while ago I wrote for my love of Deadliest Warrior, which despite its attempts at jockishness and bad-assery is one of the nerdiest shows in the history of television. I’ve recently been thinking of another show that is almost its polar opposite: Human Wrecking Balls, a resolutely dumb show that makes faint stabs at nerdiness.

Human Wrecking Balls is a show that ran for two seasons and 20 episodes on G4, the gaming channel that launched Olivia Munn into superstardom (their cross to bear). It’s unclear if new episodes are in the works, though I believe G4 still reruns it from time to time. The show consists of “breaking champions” The Pumphrey Brothers, Craig and Paul, destroying stuff with their bare hands and brute force. You probably didn’t know you could be a champion at breaking (unless you used to watch Cheap Seats), but guess what? You can be a champion at anything in 21st century America. *eagle flies across purple mountains’ majesty*

The Pumphrey Brothers didn’t just bust tables or chairs, either. They massacred entire locations, like a post office, or a bar, or an amusement park, until the entire place was completely destroyed. Now, what constituted “completely destroyed” was somewhat mutable and indefinable. But when they were done with a building, it definitely looked like two meathead tornadoes had been throught it. Each episode was cast as The Pumphrey Brothers versus a location, as if it were a foe that needed to be conquered.

Would two dumb guys breaking stuff be enough for a show? It certainly would be enough for me, someone who has spent his entire life thinking nothing is funnier than watching things be destroyed. Add in the possibility of people getting hurt, and I’m even more on board than I was before. (See: Jackass) But for some reason, Human Wrecking Balls decided to add a dash of Mythbusters to their mix and feature a structural engineer named Chad Zdenek in each episode. (I wouldn’t feel good laying out money for a building if it was structurally engineered by someone named Chad, but that’s just me.) Chad explained some of the science involved with the breaking of things: how much force was needed, what would be the best angle or method to use against a particular item, and so on.

Basically, Chad was there to add an educational veneer to a thoroughly anti-intellectual endeavor. Unfortunately, the Pumphrey Brothers were as dumb as a bag of hammers. Lovably dumb, like huge dogs scraping at a door when they think Daddy’s coming home, but dumb all the same. Whenever Chad attempts to explain something to them (more like “at them”), you see the Pumphreys furrow their brows and nod while taking nothing in. Meanwhile, the viewer at home is just anxious for more stuff to get pulverized.

I remember an episode where they destroy an abandoned bar, and one of the brothers desperately wants to kick a pool table surface in half, but Chad is busy explaining just how hard he’s gonna have to hit it, and how the slate will probably snap into jagged, razor-sharp edges, delaying the inevitable awesomeness for no good reason. I was whining at the screen like Milhouse. (“When are they gonna get to the fireworks factory?!”)

You might call this “building tension,” while I call it “a bad decision that wastes precious smashing time.” And more often than not, Chad’s advice was sublimated to the brothers’ caveman strategies, which were usually discussed thusly (in a vaguely southern drawl):

PAUL: Whatta ya think, brother? Wanna blast through this sheetrock shoulder first?

CRAIG: Let’s do it!

The producers also tried to heighten the drama by strategically placing commercial cuts right when one of the brothers was about to plunge into/over/through something, like when The Dukes of Hazard would freeze-frame with the General Lee mid-air and Waylon Jennings would talk about what mess them boys was in. This was presumably to worry the viewer that we might cut back from an ad and see them collapsed in a bloody heap. If either brother did manage to injure himself, Human Wrecking Balls had a nurse on set ready to administer to their needs. More often than not, the brothers refused treatment for their cuts and bruises, so the nurse mostly just stood around and looked vaguely nervous in a conveniently low-cut EMT uniform whenever the boys were readying themselves to smash stuff.

I’m nitpicking. My main point is that there was a show where two huge, dumb guys destroyed entire buildings with their bare hands. I was given a gift by the TV gods and I should just accept it.

As professional “breakers,” they were not allowed to use anything but their own brute strength, and they had to smash everything. There’s an episode in which they demolish an abandoned movie theater, and that involves them crushing every single item in the theater from the seats and the projection screen to the whirling coolers of fruit drink and vats of nacho cheese in the lobby snack counter. (Suspend your disbelief and try not to think about why an “abandoned” movie theater would still have these last items out on display.)

But my favorite episode by far—perhaps one of my favorite episodes of anything ever—was one in which they destroyed a hotel room. This obviously echoes the old rock star cliché of a musician on the road, trashing his home for the night in a fit of excess and decadence. So Human Wrecking Balls decided to ask a real rock star to help them in their quest. The rock star in question was Jerry Montano, who you may know (but probably don’t) as a former bassist in Danzig.

I certainly didn’t expect a show on barely basic cable to get Keith Richards. Jerry Montano toured with a famous, headlining band (albeit well past the height of their fame, while playing the least glamorous instrument), so I suppose he technically fills the bill of “rock star”. But when he arrives on set, he immediately tells the Pumphrey Brothers about all the thousands of dollars’ worth incidental damage bills he’s run up on the road, trying to pump up his Crazy Rock Star bona fides. (Speaking of pumped up, he looks like he was inserted into his leather vest and jeans outfit, then inflated.)

Which is what makes what happens next so hilarious. The Pumphrey Brothers invite Mr. Rock Star to join them in trashing their hotel room’s lounge area. He starts by smashing a prop acoustic guitar, Pete Townshend style, but even this fairly simple task proves arduous. It takes him at least four tries of bashing it against a bass drum before the neck snaps.

Then he tries to break other stuff in the Pumphrey Brothers’ fashion, and this too does not go so well. While the show’s hosts easily destroy furniture, Montano hurls a table against a wall, and it bounces back at him limply. The Brothers pick up a few chairs and plunge their legs into the drywall, but when Montano tries the same (twice), the chair just caroms off the wall ineffectually. The Brothers end the scene with primal, roid-rage screams and “that’s what I’m talkin about!”s, while Montano looks sweaty and exhausted.

It is easily one of the most epic yet lightning-fast come-uppances in television history, and for this alone, Human Wrecking Balls and the Pumphrey Brothers deserve a spot in the Scratchbomb Pantheon of Heroes. (Also, keep watching to the end of this video to see the one of the brothers literally run through a wall.)

Take Me Out to the Nuthouse

As you’ve probably heard, Glenn Beck is leaving FOX News to spend more time with his tinfoil hats. There was a very interesting article in New York recently about how Beck made everyone at FOX very rich but probably cost the Republicans the next presidential election with his special brand of divisive wing-nuttery. The article basically said his conspiracy theories and apparent belief that he is a vessel for the word of Jebus got so out of hand that even Roger Ailes had enough and told Beck to hit the bricks.

In truth, Glenn Beck won’t be going anywhere. He was already a superstar on talk radio and will remain one. He was already doing sold-out, weepy live events about the fall of America and Christmas sweaters and will presumably continue to do those, too. He’ll even be expanding his empire with a new online endeavor called GBTV. (Yes, that looks very much like it should stand for gay/bi/transgender or something similar, but please, nobody tell him. Let’s just laugh about it behind his back for several years.) It sounds it will be mostly Beck doing a variation on his FOX show for a nominal fee; $4.95/month to watch just his show, $9.95 for the full array of GBTV (teehee) programming.

None of this would be remarkable to me if I didn’t know that GBTV (snicker) will be powered by MLB Advanced Media. Yup, the same outfit responsible for creating online clips of Major League Baseball games (but not responsible for allowing you to embed them anywhere) will now help make sure the special angel-monkeys in Glenn Beck’s brain have their message heard. I can’t see how this makes any sense for MLB, business- or publicity-wise, unless they just want to carry one show worse than Intentional Talk.

Granted, MLB is not the smartest outfit in the world (see: idiotic anti-replay stance, the WBC, the aforementioned refusal to make video clips of their sport embeddable). However, I think even Bud Selig and Co. have to recognize that they’re treading on thin ice here. Getting into bed with a guy like Beck–however tangentially–is virtually guaranteed to bring nothing but trouble.

I’m not saying it’s a risk because Beck is a conservative and I am not. I wouldn’t even call Beck a conservative because he’s anything but. A conservative, by definition, wants to conserve, to keep things the way they are. Beck wants to blow up everything up to and including the Magna Carta. This is not so much a right/left split as it is a crazy/not crazy split.

As I already said, he became so toxic that Roger Ailes–who cut his teeth as Richard Nixon’s media guru, and who can stomach Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity–wants nothing to do with him. As gross and disingenuous as FOX News is, the majority of programming is light years more fair and sane than Glenn Beck. Wal-Mart withdrew sponsorship from Beck’s program when he called President Obama a racist. If any business has the economic and political power to withstand public pressure over such issues, it’s Wal-Mart, and yet even they decided they’d rather not be associated with such a person.

But obviously, there is a sizable segment of the population that likes this guy. Why pass judgment on that, if you’re MLB? Fine, let’s look at this in cold, hard terms. From a pure dollars-and-cents standpoint, there is virtually no way that this GBTV (chortle) venture will become lucrative.

Why? Because if the internet has proven anything…well, I guess the number one thing the internet has proven is that people like porn. But the second biggest thing it’s proven is that nobody wants to pay for something they used to get for free. The Internet Graveyard is filled with the tombs of kooky ranters who captivated audiences on YouTube, then decided to try and monetize their nuttiness and fell off the face of the earth.

Not to mention, GBTV will not be the only way people who like Glenn Beck can get Glenn Beck; he still has his radio show, which costs virtually nothing to listen to. And yet you’re asking people to plunk down as much as 10 bucks a month–more than a basic Netflix subscription–to watch him do a show you used to be able to see for a sliver of your monthly cable bill?

Put it this way: If Howard Stern couldn’t get people to buy satellite radios en masse, Glenn Beck will not get people to pay for internet TV in significant numbers. It doesn’t matter if the fee is relatively affordable; people hate subscriptions. They especially hate them for anything online. It doesn’t matter whether it’s for The New York Times or 24 uninterrupted hours of Bababooey or an internet channel dedicated to hoarding your gold.

When Beck has his inevitable on-air meltdown–not if, but when–it’s going to be carried by the same online engine that brings you clips of America’s pastime. Bud Selig will be praying for the carefree days of the Mitchell Report and failed drug tests when that happens.

Mancation Is the Name of Two Actual Things

In addition to seeing the worst show in the history of time this weekend, I also saw a boatload of ads for a show that debuted Sunday on The Travel Channel called Mancations. This is apparently a show for men who hate both women and puns that make sense. I haven’t been confronted with “wordplay” so forced since I heard David Cross tell tale of encountering a Mexican restaurant that sold something called The Taco-erminator.

I’m never going to watch Mancations. Even if I stumble upon it while channel surfing, I will not linger. I know exactly what this is: Two bros who are kind of shlubby in an acceptable-for-TV way broin’ out. You could not create a show with less appeal to me if you tried, and I hate the implication that dumb women ruin men’s vacations, and their lives.

We do not live in the world of lite beer commercials. Women of the 21st century do not actually drag their poor, suffering boyfriends to the opera, or to the mall so you can watch them try on clothes. More than ever, the lives and interests of men and women intersect. We no longer live in a society where men go off and do Their Thing and women do likewise, usually in the kitchen.

I don’t know about any other fellas out there, but I prefer hanging out in mixed company, rather than with all dudes. Because when it’s just dudes in a room, they tend to do idiotic things like text pictures of their junk or write episodes of Two and a Half Men.

Also, if you’re in a relationship where you have to get away from your partner for an extended period of time and do things s/he wouldn’t “let” you do in a million years, that’s an unhealthy relationship. You should get out of that situation before one of you brains the other with a rolling pin. Or, you may actually be Ralph Kramden, and you gotta sneak out of the house to hang out with the boys so’s Alice don’t find out about it and call you a fat slob.

However, Mancations did bring me one good thing, because when I tweeted about it, @kickthebobo responded with a link to the following video, from an outfit that calls itself ManCation Nation. The fact that the video opens with a full 15 uninterrupted seconds of someone shooting a machine gun should give you an idea of the intended audience. As should the fact that it also contains footage of someone waterskiing while brandishing an enormous firearm. From what I can gather from this video, the non-shooting recreational options are limited. Sounds like a trip made in Class Action Lawsuit Heaven!

Part of ManCation Nation’s mantra? “Get your sack back!” Yeah, get away from the ol’ battle axe who won’t let you fire an uzi in the living room!

In the wake of the Anthony Wiener mess, I saw a lot of online commentary from women along the lines of All men are pigs, pervs, etc. My first impulse is to refute that, because as you all know men are an embattled minority–we only control 98 percent of the planet now! Because I’m not the type of person who would engage in Wiener-ish behavior, nor are the vast supermajority of men I know. Maybe it’s not the condition of being male, but possessing the kind of personality that wants to rule others, which can border on psychosis, that drives guys like Wiener to sociopath behavior.

But then I see stuff like this and have to wonder if I’m the minority. Is the rest of the country really filled with cave trolls like this, who hate women (consciously or not) and wanna spend their vacation with other dudes spraying hot lead in the desert? You know what? Don’t tell me. I’m going to plug up both my ears, crawl under the covers, and pray for a swift, brutal Apocalypse.

Here’s hoping The Travel Channel and ManCation Nation sue each other over the term Mancation, the case drags on for decades, and everyone winds up broke and alone, never again knowing the love of a good woman.

Or man, which is a possibility, since the whole point of both endeavors, apparently, is to separate yourself completely from women, go into the wilderness, shoot stuff while wearing very little clothing, and stare longingly into the sunset with your dude guy bro-hams. A Project Runway marathon followed by a RuPaul’s Drag Race marathon isn’t as gay as that.