Those familiar with OMM's history know there have been plenty of barbs directed at eMpTyV--including the origination of that unflattering term.  Couldn't nail down a specific as to why the network irked me so.  Maybe because it's like witnessing a former love (r'n'r music) join up with a best friend (television), only to watch in horror as the latter abuses the former and turns into a pompous windbag to boot.  Who knows?

Another term I'll take a back pat for coining is "unintentional satire." If you've read any Manor On Movies columns,  you'll know I am fervent about finding the humor in atrocities attempting to be Oh So Serious Works Of Art.  An unintentional satire is the junkfilm's cousin, the "so bad it's good" non-fiction.

Basically, it works like this.  You pick up something--say, The New York Press--and go, "This is so annoying, it's a friggin' joke"; and then it dawns on you how enjoyable the item can be if you view it as just that--literally, a friggin' joke.  Suddenly, you can't wait to eye the political Op-Ed rants loaded with extremely detailed descriptions of uptown cuisine, especially when the guy mixes in his "we grew up po'" speech one sentence after referencing the Roast Belgian Pheasant Stuffed With Diamonds at Cafe Costabundle.

Once you get into this mindset, the next step is to wonder, "Hey, maybe this mess isn't 'unintentional' at all.  Could it be the Powers That Be are pulling off one of the greatest straight-faced scams out there, privately laughing their larynxes out over what they are getting the ultragullible public to buy into?"  I call this "covert satire," the highest form of the art.  

The best spoofs are the ones in which the perp never EVER let's on it's a put on--like Beck's "dancing."  So, lately, I've been thinking, unintentional or not, the poobahs at MTV deserve a massive Stately Salute for their accomplishments.

Finally, it's dawned on me:  MTV IS ON MY SIDE.  The ubernetwork's chiefs shamelessly exploit the stupidity of the masses for megamillions with zero qualms about it?  Splendid--that is exactly my ultimate goal in pro wrestling!  Widespread dumbing down of the world's youth?  Cool--that makes it a breeze to baffle the boobs!  Attention span minimized?  Fantastic--makes it a snap for us predators to overwhelm the pigeons!

Why do I suspect the MTV brass is in the covert camp?  Who else but a hardcore prankster would:  begin their brand-name with "Music" yet not telecast any for hours on end; have the stones to call a program that's anything but "The Real World"; or present an awards show honoring dribble like Dude, Where's My Car?

Among my favorite stunts is one they regularly pull on MTV2s Control Freak, an all-video show wherein viewers choose which of three nominees should be shown next.  From what I've seen, rappers never outpoll crackers unless the deck is stacked, e.g. the hot new Nelly track is up against a pair of severely dated honkey hits.  Viewers are clearly sending the message "We prefer Blink over bling"...to which the programming department responds by thereafter airing a non-stop stream of hip-hop vids.  

Manorian translation:  Hey, kids, I got your Creed right here between my ring and index fingers.  WE rule your world, not you.  You're such brand-loyal saps, we know you'll continue to tune in no matter if you beg for Linkin Park and we give you Liberace."

The above punk-slap to the sheeplike brings gaggles of giggles here.  Still, nothing topped MTV for the greatest cake-and-eat-it act in modern history.  Midsummer, 2002, the network runs a special documenting the most outrageous banned videos...while MTV2 simultaneously plays those very clips...but in their whitewashed re-edited form...and both channels "forget" to point out that the party solely responsible for the oppressive censorship is....MTV!

And what do you bet (at least) nine out of ten viewers never stopped for a moment to realize the villains stifling the artists were the same people doing the tsk-tsking--and still exorcising "offensive" footage?

By rights, the network should have been flooded with seething feedback branding them hypocrites, fascists, and the like; but MTV had 100-percent confidence their bubbleheaded audience was more likely to send " "Like, whoa, that was really ballsy of you to play those banned videos" e-mail.  Remember, we're talking about a viewership who, when asked to identify Charlie Manson, would undoubtedly reply "Um, Marilyn's dad?"

Just imagine being the person who has the ultimate say at MTV:  100 times the brainwashing power of Hitler, and they can't hang so much as a jaywalking charge on you.  I am completely jealous.

 

READERS' POLL:  Besides the singer of the first being immeasurably uglier, the difference between "Jane Says" and "Rebel Rebel" is _____?...Wouldn't it be far better entertainment if most talk/game show guests--and hosts--simply were taken out back and soundly beaten?...Exactly who the hell is watching the Disney channel at 4 a.m.?...Anyone NOT cringe at the mere mention of Diane Keaton?...What was I  thinking when I wrote, "Did I stutter when I said, 'What part of "Quit using cliches" don't you understand?'...Who first developed the practice of clenching one's fist, jerking the elbow back and exclaiming "Yes!"--and why hasn't anyone run a lance through this person?...If a tree fell in the woods, would it make any noise if it landed on an accordion?...If the people who developed computers were so bloody brilliant, how come they didn't have enough sense to avoid calling both the processor speed and memory chip size "RAM"?...Hey, did you ever see that movie where John Cusack is this hound-eyed single guy who, at the end, gets the girl he "met cute" earlier?  I forget the name of it, but it's in all the video stores.

 

Hubba Hubba Honeys:  Hey, look, bowling's on!  Any sport featuring women who turn their backs to the audience and bend forward ninety degrees qualifies as a religious experience at Stately Stadium, home of the unapologetic hip-flair-and-fine-fanny fan.  Yeah, you boys with your Oedipal nursing fixations can say whatever you want; we'll take booties over boobies any time.

Speaking of which, who left the Pearly Gates open and directed the breathtaking Brenda Norman to the bowling alley?!?  Vavavawow, she's wearing specs--and it's certainly no secret Stately's a certified sucker for gals in glasses.  And below that perfect posterior is a pair of black mesh stockings, the legwear scientifically proven to induce slobbering urges in 92.7 percent of all hetero men.

Still, a gal also has to have skill to rate nomination to the Hubba Nation.  Well, check this out:  the bespectacled bowling beauty--perhaps aided a teensy bit by testosterized Stately's telekinesis wobbling a pin or two--not only wins the heart of your panting narrator, but also takes home the tourney trophy.

I can see it now:  The King Of Columnists and the Queen Of Keglers.  Granted, Brenda, I may not share your expertise in every aspect of the bowling lane, but I've got plenty of readers willing to vouch my mind is frequently in the gutter!