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Television

Teen Choice Awards Gone Horribly Wrong.


in Television

I’m getting ready to ship off to Canada for the next four days, and running around like a marmoset with gastrointestinal distress (feel free to use that one), so I was glad to find two interesting photo submissions when I checked my email this morning. I count on my friends for content when I’m not feeling especially creative – and they always come through. Because they’re all f*cked.

On the left we have the illustrious Mr. Cornett – kicking it, as he does every year, at the Indy 500. Kicking the shakes and hallucinations after Indy weekend – is another story. My own father also has an interesting Indy drinking story, but he’ll kick my ass if I post that here… so I’ll stick to C-Diddy for the moment. Why is this model wearing a wetsuit you ask? You try standing near Chris after he’s had half a 30 pack of Genessee Cream Ale and all will be revealed.

And on the right, a blog favorite – Gazza. The only human being even more narcissistic than myself. Gaz attended the Teen Choice Awards earlier this week, and had a friend snap this photo when a particularly interesting presenter took to the stage. Yes folks, that’s Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the screen in the background. I haven’t heard from Gary recently, and I have a sneaking suspicion that in the next Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel, Leatherface’s mask will be sporting a stripper pubic landing strip on it’s chin.

I’ll check in from my parent’s trailer’s 56k dialup (I wish I was kidding. But at least they don’t have an outhouse. Oh wait. Yes they do.) over the weekend sometime in between JetSki runs. Stay real.

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Trailer Park Boys Lament.


in Television

I have spoken to several of my American friends here in Boston who have seen Trailer Park Boys on BBC America. Apparently the episodes are being ripped to shreds by the censors. I can no sooner imagine watching TPB full of bleeps than I can Eddie Murphy’s Delerious or Slap Shot. It cripples the show and I’m very sad because this incredibly funny and original Canadian export is not going to get the fair shake it deserves with American audiences.

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Blame Miss Jackson (yes, I’m nasty) and her left breast. I just read an interview with TPB’s creator, Mike Clattenburg, where he said the show was originally contracted to run uncensored –  but BBCA changed their minds after the Superbowl Halftime debacle.

TPB has been shot in the foot and is doomed to fail for the same reason the proposed American version of The Office will never work. The creative cussing, colloquialisms and East Coast Canadian vernacular are a large part of what makes the show so endearing, funny and – dare I say – special. They’ve taken the heart and soul out of TPB and I implore anyone who cares to download an episode from the file sharing program of their choice to see it as it was intended.

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