(July 16) As I do every so often, this is a week to spew out a bunch of garbage that has been bugging me in recent days. I’m not going to waste a bunch of time with an intro, so let’s get right down to it.
My first rant is sort of my intro. Numbed by the aftermath of an alcoholic stupor, I spent most of this past weekend channel-surfing. I noticed a horrible new trend – list shows. The top 1000 most shocking moments, the top 50 sexiest tv moments, 25 sleaziest rock stars. They’re all over the dial, especially on E!, CMT, and VH1. All of these shows exist for only one reason – so we can see that stupid dress that J-Ho wore to the Grammies a couple of years ago. So let’s call today’s rant Scott Hudson’s Ten Worst Nightmares, with list shows at number ten.
At number nine we have people who try to jump ahead of everyone at road construction. You know what I’m talking about – you’re stuck in traffic because construction up ahead is going to cut off one lane. For some reason, there’s these morons who think they can just skip the line, drive up as far as they can, and sneak in. Hey, if I have to sit in line for a few minutes, so do you. Don’t expect to cut in front of me because it ain’t happenin’.
In a similar vein, at number eight we have motor homes slowing down everyone through interstate construction. There’s a lot of roadwork going on right now, and it’s inevitable that you’re going to run into it no matter which way you head out of town. Every single time I hit one of these fifteen mile long annoyances, there’s a motor home driving at least twenty miles below the speed limit. Because there are so many people lined up behind them, it then takes forever to pass them afterwards even though they haven’t sped up to the regular speed limit.
Next up at number seven we have local tv news “safety tips”. Anytime there’s some sort of tragedy, from the drowning last weekend to fires, tornados, power outages, and extreme heat, our local news stations feel they have to remind us how to avoid grill fires, sunburn, flat tires, and other seemingly common sense solutions. In the winter they teach us how to shovel; in the fall it’s how to rake leaves. Are we that stupid, and isn’t it a case of too little too late for those that could learn something?
I sort of covered number six in my number ten rant. But VH1 has become so awful that they just have to come in at number six. It’s hard to believe but the channel used to be occasionally entertaining. A few of the Behind the Music’s were enjoyable the first three dozen times you saw them, and some of the other shows devoted to the great artists of the past were at worst entertaining. Now there’s nothing to watch. The only original programming they have are those awful list shows, with no-name b-listers attempting to be funny while proclaiming their love for the song “Mickey” or George Michael. Even worse, they replay network movies that should have never aired in the first place, such as their multiple airings this past weekend of the Three’s Company miniseries.
Up next we have a last minute entry to this list. I’m talking about Deion Sanders’ self-proclaimed “Jesus discount”. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, Deion ran up a $4500 bill at an auto garage, but wrote a check for only $1500 because that’s what Jesus told him the work was worth. And since it happened in Texas, he won the resulting lawsuit. Deion, grab your buddy Michael Irvin and head over to Hammer’s church. Maybe Jesus will help his career.
At number four, we have a return look at a trend that I’ve attacked in the past. Of course, I’m talking about the current wave of reality television. The last few weeks the networks have given up on providing any real programming. Instead we get shows such as For Love Or Money, Paradise Hotel, American Junior, Fame, Marry My Dad, Last Comic Standing, and, god helps us, Big Brother 4, which made headlines this past weekend by kicking someone out after he had a tantrum and told the other contestants that he has genital warts. Nice, classy stuff.
Where do they find these people? Granted, some of them are attractive, but they have the intellectual capacity of a coffee bean. Take this great comment from the ex-con from For Love Or Money – “you’re wearing a red dress…it matches the carpet”. Yeah, he’s a catch.
And these women – most of them really think they’re going to meet they’re dream mate, get married, and live happily ever after. Do people still believe that they’re life is not complete unless they’re married by the time they hit 25? Not that the guys are any better – “this is the toughest decision I’ve ever had to make.” Please.
The absolute worst of these shows is not really a reality show, but it combines the worst elements of all of these shows in one 30 minute show. I’m talking about Anything For Love, the most evil show I’ve ever witnessed in my life. In the episode that I watched a few weeks ago, they had this woman who made her boyfriend choose between her and his $3,000 bicycle. When he chose her, he then had to take a chainsaw to his prized possession. She cooed, but you can’t tell me there won’t be trouble in the near future. Other spots on this show included hidden camera temptations with supermodels, surprise “I love you’s” from people they hadn’t seen in decades, and other ultimatums that should make everyone involved feel ashamed.
We’re run down seven and have three to go. Who else will earn the wrath of Hudson?
Coming in at a strong number three is major league baseball, particularly Bud-lite Selig. The former national pastime has become the biggest joke in professional sports. From the tie-game in last year’s All-Star game to the uncertain future of the Expos to Sammy Sosa’s corked bat to this insane idea of the all-star game determining home field advantage for the World Series, which led to a game missing half of the game’s biggest players, baseball has become little more than a bad joke by a late-night talk show host. Let’s get a real commissioner; not a club owner playing one on ESPN.
Up next we just have to find room for those divas in training with one-named monikers. I’m talking Shania, Pink, Mya, Beyonce, Ashanti, Mariah, Jewel, Cher, and the seemingly dozens of new no-talents that the record companies spring on us every week. And don’t think I’m excusing their male co-horts. I’m a fan of Bono, Edge and Stipe but let’s get real. You guys all have real names; use them. How do you get your mail? Is it sent to Ms. Beyonce? I didn’t think so.
All right, we’ve made it through nine nightmares; it’s now time to unveil Scott Hudson’s number one worst nightmare. Drumroll please….the winner is that demon Windsor. Yes, that sweet elixir made in the North Country. This past Friday, my good buddy Cade coereced me into leaving my palatial estate and indulging in my drink of choice, Windsor-Coke. Actually, my drink of choice is James Foxe and Coke, but nobody stocks that anymore. Ok, I had a great time and made quite a few new friends (who better be listening this morning) but when I awoke just four hours later with a head throbbing louder than a Led Zeppelin drum solo I knew I was in trouble. But I’m sure I’ll do it again real soon, although I may try to eat a little dinner first and maybe stop before I hit a dozen drinks.


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