It's been a long week, hasn't it? In some ways. So much work, such laboring. Are you making sure to wear all of your white clothes this week? I myself am wearing all of my white clothes right now. All at once. Layers upon layers of all my white clothing, and accessories, all as a bundled but visible middle-finger to the rank, base, scratchy, sweating cockeyed bitch that is summer. At its most basic what we call summer's really just another word for nature's ineluctability, right? And which is to say, I am getting real damned tired of it.
As of today, you've been informed, the new Will Arnett horse comedy cartoon Bojack Horseman is available on Netflix. I kind of want to watch it but I also feel like sometimes when a show has Will Arnett they feel like the hard part is over, no more work needs doing. Like he's the Patronus. And if it's just the voice part of him in particular, that seems like more of a danger. Plus the last time I tried to watch a "funny" or "adult" cartoon online it was The Awesomes, which I don't know if you're aware but that show's a regulation piece of shit, so, I am tender in those places and unwilling to experiment just yet. Let me know how it goes.
That's what she said and then too at some point today there's going to be the hour-length finale of Legend of Korra on the interweb, presuming that Nickelodeon didn't just chop it into pieces and hide it under your vegetables or whatever sick bullshit they're planning for us next.
At 8/7c. it's Raiders/Packers, which is tremendously exciting for all of us, as I'm sure you'll agree. What is more fun than a football game—which is already by definition pointless—than a pre-season football game, which wears its extraneous pointlessness aggressively upon its sleeve. Normally I just vote for whoever has the cutest coach (Dennis Allen in this case) but what the Packers have that the Raiders do not is a man named Julius Peppers, which is the cutest name I have ever heard. ("Have you met my adorable [child/pet/imaginary friend/outside linebacker] Julius Peppers? He had a 1.09 GPA one semester and he grants wishes!" A sulky, overtired Julius Peppers stretches out across the backseat: "Oh, he'll sleep tonight. Such a Julius Peppers he was today! Wore 'im right out." Julius Peppers is all, "I can't get this darn bowtie straight!" and he stomps his feet and you're just like, "Oh, Julius Peppers.")
At 9/8c. the ninth season of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders show continues, as one of the cheerleaders turns 22 and is led out to a pasture and abandoned there, nearly blind, joints cracking with age, hairspray melting down her neck slowly as the whole thing comes apart. PBS is about to treat to you a classy date with itself at the Vienna Philharmonic, while a new DA show called Swamp Monsters introduces you to a kind of swamp monster—or possibly a hard-to-get-to part of the anatomy of a given swamp monster—called the Grunch. What do you think a grunch is? Can you put your hand on the grunch and if so, would that be better left done in private?
At 10/9c., H2 Channel goes In Search Of Aliens but this episode—stay with me—is called "Searching For Bigfoot." I submit to you that there are numerous problems with this particular search, nested within the larger search. Or else there are things I don't know, which is possible, if improbable. I do know that if all the aliens are all bigfoots, that is about as stupid-ass a universe as you can get. We got burned. "Welcome to outer space, it's bullshit out here." There's also the Chris Lilley thing on HBO and the third The Knick on Cinemax (which is a pretend TV station that your TV doesn't actually get, much like alien yetis are pretend things for which we will forever search).
At 7/6c. on the Hub there is a new show called Parents Just Don't Understand that nobody actually watching the show will get the title of. The first episode is called "The Touchdown Maker & The Cupcake Baker," both of which sound pretty gay to me, in various ways. "My parents just don't understand that I like to bake treats" is about the worst problem I can think of to say out loud. I would rather say "Excuse me Mr. Kellan Lutz, this is a very good story and I am enjoying having all of your attention to myself at this glamorous fashion party, but I think I may have a touch of diarrhea, so if you could just stick a pin it for me, just briefly."
Then at 7:30 is when things stop being polite and start getting real, w/r/t BBC America's latest flirtation with time and relative dimensions in space, Doctor Who. Apparently it's just pre-shows and post-shows and live shows and taped shows and somewhere in the middle of all that, the new Doctor Who starring the new Doctor, and the new John Simm/Mira Sorvino show Intruders, where people (aliens?) are constantly intruding. Stepping on Mira's process, as an actress. I love her acting not because it is at all good, but because it is so specific to her. You can tell everything is a choice. She is making choices about things no one else would make into a choice. "I really think my character would inhale and then exhale, bringing oxygen to the lungs to share throughout the body via my bloodstream, and then expelling carbon dioxide. What do you think, is that too much? Am I going overboard? You can tell me. I am just trying to find the character right now."
At 8/7c. another preseason game, Saints at Colts, or else it's a Lifetime movie with the thrilling title of #popfan. Do you think it will be like The Bodyguard probably? If Kevin Costner was my bodyguard I would like to say it would make me more of a daredevil, because who honestly cares what happens to Kevin Costner, but I know I would end up more worried about his safety than my own, and probably end up dying at the end of the movie from guarding the body of my bodyguard, singing that one song while I die. Or something cooler if I can think of it in time (i.e., before I am dead). You don't want to be going "How does that one Public Image Ltd. song start where Drop Dead Fred's like anger is an energy, anger is an energy" and that's when you croak. "He died doing what he loved. Helplessly Shazamming everyone around him."
At 9/8c. the premiere cable show about ghosts inside of children, The Ghost Inside My Child, hits another homer with their second episode title: "Silent Film Star And The Man Who Fell Far." What a tough break! "Oh my God is your kid okay? He looks kind of jacked up to be playing soccer today, honestly." "Yeah he's fine he's just chock full of Charlie Chaplin and David Bowie right now. Their ghosts. He has their ghosts inside of him." "But David Bowie is not dead." "Yeah and ghosts aren't real, so."
There's also Hell on Wheels, the third Outlander, and two episodes of DA's Hillbilly Blood: "Hot Mama" and "Pressure." Do you think the blood is inside or outside the hillbillies? What I mean is, is it like in the saying "I have hillbilly blood coursing through my hillbilly veins"—that old idiomatic chestnut that hillbillies are always saying, to prove who is more legit—or is it more in the sense of "almost eight quarts of hillbilly blood were found at the scene, covering almost everything in the blood of hillbillies. It was real rough at first when you walked in, to just see all of that hillbilly blood everywhere." I hope it's both, to be honest. And I hope for jugs with XXX on them.
Then finally at 10/9c. it is the Haunting Of Valerie Harper. I hope she is haunted first and foremost by all the havoc she caused that poor Hogan family. They seemed like really nice people and she just ditched 'em, handed 'em over to a crossdresser with a glass eye and said sayonara.
At noon it is Real Housewives of Melbourne, of course. And then at 4/3c. it's the Chargers at 49ers (Jim Harbaugh, by like a million, if you're wondering) and all I know about that matchup is, how about that Jerry Rice. At 7/6c. for no reason there is a random Teen Wolf episode on MTV so, if you were wondering what is happening with that insane cliffhanger from last week, just turn on your TV at any random time and tune it to any random network and hope that the episode is on when you do it. Sometimes it helps if you shut your eyes very tightly while you do this, and just wait for the dubsteps of the youth to guide you home.
At 8/7c. there's Big Brother (more like WHY BOTHER, am I right?) and then there's the VMAs in case you wanted to know what famous people look like when they're super bored. There's Real Housewives also of New Jersey at this time. At 9/8c. the new show Breathless on PBS debuts, it's the last The Last Ship on TNT, a full hour of Long Island Medium if you really don't know what you're doing with your life right now, and then also The Musketeers finale.
Ray Donovan, the very last ever True Blood, and also Oprah goes looking for Pat O'Brien, Jack Wagner, Sam Harris (whose autobiography is titled Ham (Slices of a Life) and so I hope when Oprah finds him she tells him to get lost) and Maggie Wheeler (Janice from Friends). Sometimes I feel like Oprah is doing us a favor tracking these people down and then other times it seems like a really mean, subtle joke. I know exactly where Jack Wagner is, he's singing with the golden voice of an angel somewhere. Leave him be. As for Pat O'Brien, I really couldn't tell you. I can't explain the universe, its chaos, its serendipities. When I try to imagine Pat O'Brien turning the key in the locks of his front door and opening it, it just opens up into a safari, inside the house, like Jumanji. Or a ball pit, like for kids or certain fun adults, but there is definitely a chimp either way.
At 10/9c. There's Falling Skies, Vampire Worm Face Theatre, Manhattan, Masters of Sex, Naked & Afraid and On the Case with Paula Zahn, who's close to cracking this whole "Trail of Tears" thing I guess. Paula's on the case. There's also, of course and most importantly, the summer's best show The Leftovers. Only one more episode left! Bad news for people who like bad news!
Anyway, that's the weekend in television. What else you got? Any glamorous fashion parties going on? Are you finding a way to enjoy the summer and if so, is it cost-effective? Because all my hobbies are expensive! I drink champagne with diamonds in the glass, for basically two reasons: First things first I'm the realest, and second of all because that is the meaning of expensive taste. A hooker told me that once, through song.
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