Oh, I can't take it anymore!
These whores, these prostitutes, these strumpets--you get the idea.
What am I talking about? I'm talking about this goddamn stupid job (this is a job?) I have watching TV and making up idiotic trivia questions built around the products placed in the episodes.
I can't just sit on my ass and cheerfully ruin my brain watching this chazzerai, I've got to get a commercial in the process. Eat me!
Cars, computers, fastfood chains, cereal, whatever the hell you can buy, these pricks are selling. It's hard to pick the most outrageous example, but the season finale of "CSI: Miami" with the cadaverous David Caruso was certainly in the top five.
Our hero is trying to rescue some obnoxious little bastard--I think it was Horatio's nephew, but I honestly don't give a rat's ass--and after shooting some extras in the groin, Capt. Caruso shouts to our little innocent snotnose "Run to the Hummer! Run to the Hummer!"
Yes, you sleazeball, and you can run to the bank with your ill-gotten gains. And what the fuck is a dectective doing with a Hummer anyway? I thought these guys were undercover, stealth, plainclothes, not invading Iraq.
Want another example? Well, tough shit, you're going to get it anyway. I'm forced to watch the Jay Blowhole Show and the guest list includes Paris Hilton and her fucking mother and this clown Dog Chapman, a bounty hunter who has this transvestite Geronimo thing going on.
Anyhow, this putz is telling Jay Jawline all about some arrest he made, where his son had to take a picture of a footprint with his--ready--Nextel. Not his camera phone, his Nextel! And that's not in the drama, that's some dusche bag pretending to have a real-life conversation. Oh, yeah, my ass!
When I was growing up I remember when TV shows went out of the way NOT to show product labels, names, etc. That's why we had the commercial break. Now, we got no fucking break. It's all whoring all the time. Bend over and buy something, you schmuck you deserve it.
And when you finally die, we'll put ad stickers all over your casket, like a NASCAR Peckerwood-mobile. And we'll put a McDonald's sign on the back of your tombstone. "After you're done praying over this asshole, go grab yourself a Happy Meal and pretty soon you'll be dead, too."
Let's all to run the Hummer. And then jump in front of the fucking thing...