Terrible Analogies

Is anybody else watching Top Shot and hoping that one of these guys snaps after being eliminated and goes on a shooting rampage?

Did these contestants have to undergo psychiatric evaluation before being accepted as a contestant on this show?  I mean, if you get one guy…just one that’s a poor loser, that can’t handle being isolated, critiqued, and judged by a small group of his peers before being dismissed from the show for not measuring up to an arbitrary standard agreed upon by the alpha males of the pack, who’s to say that that person being told to go pound sand won’t pick up the nearest loaded weapon of the day and pop a few shots into the  gloating chest of the most convenient target of opportunity?

In my opinion, staging a game show revolving around deadly weapons doesn’t seem to me to be the most responsible thing to do.  Some peoples is crazy.  You can never be too sure who’s going to snap for being belittled…

…but then again, that would make for some great TV.  Who knows.  Perhaps the producers secretly wish that the worst case scenario would come to pass?

If that’s the case, then lock ‘n load Biff.  Lock ‘n load.

I don’t know what prompted me to take this picture, but there it was, hiding in a dark alcove on my camera’s memory card, stamped with a date of 02/23/09.  Perhaps I was going to make a subtle yet effective parallel between the substandard educational system and the dearth of viable political candidates in recent elections.  Or perhaps this gentleman simply reminded me of my hippie sister who lives in San Francisco and her disconcerting habit of pulling out her hair and eating it.

Regardless, whatever urge that prompted me to grab my camera and take a picture of this fellow has long since slipped from my mind.  Yet here it remains, forever taunting me:

You, sir, are one sexy beast.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.

I’m sorry, but I have to get this off of my chest.

Every time the wife and I turn on the Food Network and happen upon the show Unwrapped:

I can’t help but be reminded of this:

It gets to the point that I become so distracted I begin to tune out Unwrapped out and flash back to the many hours I wasted sitting in front of the TV as a child, thinking about how badly I wanted to run through the Double Dare obstacle course.  *sigh*

Adam Richman and the crew over at Man v. Food held a live televised event the day before the Super Bowl.  The challenge: To consume a 48oz steak in under 20 minutes.

Now, for those of you familiar with this show, it came as a bit of a shock that this was the challenge. A mere 48 ounce steak? No side dishes or any other gastrointestinal requirements? Heck…even I, with the stomach of a bird and the willpower of a post-op Rosemary Kennedy could scarf down this slab of meat within the given time limit.

This amateurishly staged live “event” was painful to watch.  Fans held up “homemade” signs offering encouragement and proclaiming their unquestionable love for Man v. Food. Television announcers were scattered amongst the crowd giving play-by-play calls on the various shenanigans taking place within the unruly mob. All the while a live camera was keeping a vigilant eye on Adam as he paced a nearby hallway, psyching himself up for this momentous “challenge”.

Finally, the big moment arrived. Adam sat down and the steak was placed in front of his gapping maw. The clock began the countdown. Adam attacked the girth of his meat, manhandling the flaccid flesh, slicing healthy-sized cuts off of this sacrificial muscle and shoving them into his moist, quivering, expectant orifice.

The talking heads began offering ever more increasingly bizarre commentaries such as, “That’s a big bite!”, and, “His table manners are impeccable!”, and even “I envy the cow that gave her life for this!”.

At the 15 minute mark Adam asked for a ruling. The observing judge proclaimed Adam the victor, and Adam raised his arms above his head and let out a squeal of excitement.  The TV announcer stated (in a warbling voice well on the road to tears) that, “This is the triumph of the human spirit!”

If by “triumph” you mean “making a mockery of a once cool idea”, then yes, it was indeed a “triumph”.

Guys dressed up as a slice of pizza and a hotdog? Check! Cheerleaders? Check. Gold draperies nicked from your grandmother's house? Check! Let's get it on!

Come on, Adam. Beat that meat!

No, this not a joke. That's the "steak cam". *rolls eyes*

"They may take our lives, but they'll never take...our steak!!"

And so, I must ask this simple question…has Man v. Food jumped the shark?

Adam Richman is the man who tackled the 12 pound hamburger challenge, downed 180 oysters, grappled with the “biggest burrito in the west” (7 potatos, 1lb of ham, 12 eggs, a whole onion, cheese & chili), and consumed some of the hottest food on the face of the planet. Do you honestly believe that a 48oz steak is going present any sort of challenge to him, or be entertaining for the viewers to watch?

If the folks over at the Travel Channel are reading this, can I offer you a small bit of advice? If you’re going to do this again, get rid of the over-exuberant crowds, the idiotic commentary, and circus-like atmosphere. Take a cue from the television show and sit Adam down in a restaurant with a small group of people and give him a real challenge. I’m not here to watch the hype. I’m here to root for Adam in the hopes he’ll be able to throw down a vanquishing “M”.

And hey, if he loses, then I’m cool with that too. Just let the man to his thing.

While channel surfing the other day I happened upon a nature show that I thought was about the majestic and often misunderstood piranha.  There they were, a glittering school of piranha gently hovering in their sepia-stained world, minding their own business when *bam*!  Ambushing from above with the speed of a hungry Haitian (too soon?) were two alien-looking appendages, quickly followed by two eyes the size of which I’ve only seen in my nightmares.

This, my friends, was the classic attack pattern of the noble Giant Water Bug:

This is the reason why I didn’t go wading into those slow, trickling streams during those Boy Scout Jamborees.  I knew, in the back of my young mind where the Boogie Man, the monsters under my bed, and WHAM! lived, that an abominable terror such as this was lurking in the shadows just below the surface, waiting for my innocent little pink toes to come within striking range of its sharpened beak and gripping exoskeleton.

Damn nature, you scary.