Not Funny

One of the distressing side-effects of Christmas holidays is an increased willingness to spend inordinate amounts of time in front of the television, watching the kind of moronic claptrap that during the rest of the year would rapidly trigger the off-switch response. Having free hours somehow lowers the bar, so that even moderately worthless crap seems like a good reason to slob on the sofa and gaze at the screen for a while.
That is not to say that all discrimination has been abandoned; reality TV is still utter drivel, Honey Boo Boo and her disgusting relatives can all still fuck off and die, and those weird Alaskan bush people can wander off into the wilderness and indulge in whatever unbiblical intercourse gave rise to their unholy brood. Actually, the list of shows worth watching is still really, really short, and consists mostly of cop dramas. If at any time you’re tempted to drift into the realm of network sitcoms they conveniently show clips from time to time, just to remind you why you shouldn’t.
Oh fuck they’re bad. I have in the last 24 hours seen reminders of just how bad, and as a means of determining when you’ve been at home too long and should really get back to work you could do worse than use the following: if at any time you’re tempted to turn on Two Broke Girls, Mike and Molly or the McCarthys you should grab your work clothes and get the fuck out of the house. If you don’t have a job to go to, just leave the house anyway. Or kill yourself. You’d be doing society a favor.
How does anyone manage to make sitcoms with such pitiful, weak, worthless humor? How do you come up with such weak premises and then overlay them with jokes of such mind-numbing banality that only a cretin could enjoy them? And then run them for years? Until the threadbare original premise has been worn to dust on the backs of the idiot actors with which our screens are infected?
I struggled with this question. I know that good sitcoms do exist – we had loads of them back in merry old England. Why are the ones over here so fucking shit? Are Americans somehow programmed to accept more mediocrity, like with their chocolate? And how do you go about writing something so unfunny in the first place?
“Here’s a really great concept – we’ll have a sitcom with fat people.”
“But surely we did that already? Roseanne was fat, and that King of Queens guy was a bloater too.”
“Yeah, but this will be different. We’ll have a whole new slate of jokes about it being OK to be a fat bastard. Not good jokes, but lots and lots of them, all delivered by a really annoying fat bitch”
It still doesn’t make sense. You’d have to specifically breed writers to be that shit – you couldn’t possibly hire them that way. You’d have to start by taking weak comic writers and breeding them selectively with the retarded. The offspring of that accursed coupling would be a litter of retarded comic writers. It wouldn’t be easy, obviously. The comics would be trying to shove it in all the wrong holes, just to be funny, and the retards would be putting it in all the wrong holes because they didn’t know any better, but eventually I figure you could get them to breed. That wouldn’t be enough though. For a real CBS level of comic banality you’d have to take the comic retards and breed them again with a whole new set of retards (or maybe the same ones – it’s not like it matters) and then take the second set of offspring and have them write the script for Two Broke Girls. One part weak comic to three parts retard.
For sure that whole process would take two generations, and would require an investment of time by the network, and a commitment to really shit writing, that is hard to imagine. But what other explanation is there for the sudden explosion of really fucking shit sitcoms on our screens? The second breeding must be reaching maturity and their writing is coming to fruition.
The most depressing aspect of this is that networks are in the business of giving people what they want, and obviously the public likes their humor with very little use of the cerebral cortex required. Which is probably necessary to satisfy the mentality of a population that appears to have been spawned in no small part by acts of love between the actual or borderline retarded. So my TV sucks because people are stupid. I’m half tempted to go back to work, but the stupid live there too, and the sofa isn’t nearly as comfortable. So I’ll smack myself in the head with a brick instead, and get working on my new sitcom about two fat bastards who talk to the dead. It’s called “XXXL Medium”. You’ll fucking love it.

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