One little test I used to do was on a Monday morning when we’d meet the host, I would ask the host if he would be interested in doing a sketch called “The William Holden Drinking Helmet.” I would always gauge by their reaction, because poor Bill Holden had fallen and cracked his head open and bled to death. So I always thought, if they laughed at that at least, I knew it would be a good week.
— Tim Kazurinsky
Writer, Saturday Night Live
So, like, every week, she’s still single and doing yoga with Dr. Crusher. Then that week’s diplomat comes on board for some kind of summit, and she thinks he’s handsome, but of course she can read his feelings, which are something like, “Goddamn, Stardate: Help Me, I’m currently circling the Pockmarked Planet of the Wad of Cottage Cheese system.”
She’d try anyway, though, and get up against him, saying, “Perhaps I can escort you to your quarters?” and he’d be like, “Nah, you know what, I’m just gonna take this brochure from the Chamber of Commerce and walk around your bigass plane for a bit. You stay here.”
I mean, there you are, sitting in the dark, and the credits are doing their
duh-duh duh-duh duh
duh-duh duh-duh duh
dah! dah! dah!
wah wah wah wah wah wah
thing, while that hand has a glowing finger bone, and a guy’s head screams and then goes all sideways and kinda Gumby on him, and that weird snail thing in a hood gets a huge face boner made out of snot, and then, out of the blue:
"Ach! What’sh thish? Paranorrrmal Ocktivity?
Eh, errrr, government deniesh nollech.”
"You’re kind of doing a pastiche of a spoiled valley girl from 1988."
"Is that good?"
"No, it’s too nuanced. What I want you to do is a spoiled valley girl from 1988 doing a pastiche of a spoiled valley girl from 1988."
Hahaha, just kidding. She probably just sucks.
It’s discouraging seeing people I went to college with spamming their Facebook walls with links to Hulu clips and articles about such a spastically terribly written show. It’s like, “You have a degree in Anthropology. Do you not understand that you’re the idiot of this village?”
1. Line up a hot chick sabermetrician to appear regularly on Baseball Tonight.
2. Start an ad campaign about “ESPN Baseball: Your Best Friend.”
3. Start promoting the girl sabermetrician to The Cars’ “Best Friend’s Girl,” and whenever the line “I kinda like the way she dips” comes up, flash: “DIPS: DEFENSE INDEPENDENT PITCHING STATISTICS.”
4. Have her murder John Kruk.
5. Every baseball nerd in America will watch your show.
Dey weal all haff ubvious accent, bit because Aye em bat writer, dey weal all spick wit, how you say, Americanski idiom. Like, say,
I come to here uff de boat, and I ken not get good job. It is sex of wan, haff dozen of other. But a bird een hand, as dey say. I em batting one-tousand.
Da! Da! Is good, is good!
These vatos promptly escaped from a group photo to the Glendale Galleria. Today, still expected to take care of their little brother Hector after school and before their sister comes home from her shift at the hospital, they survive on a diet of Krispy Kreme and ride the bus. If you have a hairnet, if no one else can help, and if you drive an El Camino that can fit most of them in back, except for the fat one who has something wrong with his foot, maybe you can hire the C-Team.