Category Archives: Boob Tubery

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.