Saturday, July 10, 2010

WATCH OUT FOR BIG BROTHER

The 12th edition of “Big Brother” began on CBS Thursday night, and, of course, I was there to soak it all in, except when the satellite dish flipped out a few times, causing me to have a mild tantrum. I have everyone fooled into thinking that I only watch this crass program because of my close personal relationship with author George Orwell. “Big Brother is watching you! Watch this stupid show, or else!”

Big Bore, not to be confused with Big Brother, one time asked me if I would ever want to be a contestant on this show. Heck, no! I barely survived living with my own big brother during the 1950s-60s. Why would I want to voluntarily subject myself to that kind of misery again? Also, I do not possess the most important requirement for a member of the female cast--a body that looks smokin' in short-shorts and a bikini top. I don’t look too hot in revealing clothes, mainly because I reveal a belly bulge, plus I have blubber blobs in places where foxy women shouldn’t have blubber blobs.

I would also not want to share my living space with smokers, indoors or out, cough, cough, or listen to all the yelling and screaming that typically goes on as soon as the newness of the show wears off on the “houseguests” and they realize they can’t stand each other.

And another aspect of BB that I would not enjoy would be participating in the so-called physical challenges, which are usually beyond moronic. The other night the guys and gals had to leap onto a giant, swinging, leather hotdog slathered with slippery fake mustard and catsup and ride it maybe 50 yards. Now, I ask you: Who wants to hop onto a wienie unless it’s the real thing? Not I.

The only reason I watch “Big Brother” is because I have voyeuristic tendencies that are best satisfied by just crashing on the sofa in my baggy shorts and ratty T-shirt, stuffing myself with Reese’s peanut butter cups, and being in the home audience from afar. It’s much safer that way. There’s no one jumping out of the TV to make snide comments back at me. In the immortal words of KC and the Sunshine Band, “that’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it,” brother.

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