I fucking hate "reality" TV shows, and I hate them even more when they feature people I never gave a shit about in the first place. Current case in point: TORI AND DEAN-HOME SWEET HOLLYWOOD, featuring colossal no-talent Tori Spelling and whoever the fuck "Dean" is, apparently her husband or some shit, and their two kids. I could not possibly be less interested, but my attention was drawn to an ad for it that blights my already none-too-spectacular subway platform in Brooklyn. The ad is one of those candy-colored numbers showcasing the parents in director's chairs looking over their shoulders at us miserable proles, as they feign rudimentary attention toward their demon-spawn. What got me to look at it was the instantly recognizable defacement work of the stop's resident phantom defacer, and while by no means a genius of the obscene graffiti form, the unknown scrawler is usually good for a laugh and his (her?) current contributions did not fail to amuse (double click on them to enlarge):
Tori Spelling's known to have had at least a nose job, but if you ask me in recent years she's come to look more and more like a masculine and unconvincing drag queen.
Graffiti involving kids is almost always fun due to the more often than not inappropriate things seen issuing from the mouths of babes, but this example displays a more conceptual touch by having the snarky dialogue issue from the telephone the kid's holding.
And while such things are quite tasteless and offensive in real life, somehow suggestions of undisguised parentally-directed lust crack me up when seen graffitoed on subway and bus ads:
It's quite plainly stated that she wants daddy's dick instead of a boring old bottle, but just this morning I saw where another scrawler added the label "Sperm Juice" to the bottle with blue marker, and that feeble bit of audience participation added nothing to what came before.
Remember back in the bygone days of yore when Eddie Murphy was funny? Yeah, I know it seems like a million years ago, but I witnessed when it happened and there are many of an age with Yer Bunche who can also testify to that period's existence. Nowadays it's easy to forget that Murphy was once the man who once gave us arguably the only good stuff to come out of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE in those two disastrous years following the departure of the Not Ready for Primetime Players, to say nothing of being the performer of the hilarious DELIRIOUS cable special — inarguably one of the three funniest things to come out of the 1980's — , especially in the wake of his growing mountain of mediocre-to-downright-lousy and innocuous "family" films. The two NUTTY PROFESSOR movies were barely passable, his DR. DOOLITTLE movies amounted to the rape of a classic character and utter squandering of a fun concept — you have a guy who can communicate with animals and those were the best you could come up with?!!? — and do not get me started on THE HAUNTED MANSION, THE ADVENTURES OF PLUTO NASH, DADDY DAY CARE, MEET DAVE and the execrable NORBIT... Which brings us to the upcoming IMAGINE THAT, a film that looks every bit is wan and useless as what has come before, and apparently the phantom defacer thinks so too:
Lastly, and in a totally unrelated area of random reality, one of the design 'ho house's sales guys just returned from a trade show involving candy, and he brought back this amazingly-monikered bit of confectionery:
Yes, it's "Cracksheads," the ne plus ultra of high-caffeine treats! As the label explains, four pieces is the equivalent of one cup of coffee or two cans of Mountain Dew, and the sales guy described the people staffing the Crackheads display booth as looking "very jittery and strung out." I can't wait to see what happens when this stuff gets unleashed at Halloween!