Apocalypse followers shocked as nothing happens.
Robert Fitzpatrick spent more than $140,000 of his savings on posters and advertisements warning of the May 21 Judgement Day.
As he stood in Times Square in New York, surrounded by onlookers, Fitzpatrick, 60, carried a bible and handed out leaflets as he waited for Judgement Day to begin. When the hour, 6pm New Zealand time, came and went, he said: "I do not understand why ...," as his speech broke off and he looked at his watch.
"I do not understand why nothing has happened."
With no sign of Judgement Day arriving as he had forecast, Harold Camping, the 89-year-old California evangelical broadcaster and former civil engineer behind the pronouncement seemed to go silent.
Family Radio, the Christian stations network headed by Camping which had spread his message of an approaching doomsday, was playing recorded church music, devotionals and life advice unrelated to the apocalypse.
Camping previously made a failed prediction Jesus Christ would return to Earth in 1994.
The apocalypse was predicted to begin in New Zealand and move west, so those in America could watch it on television.
"We know the end will begin in New Zealand and will follow the sun and roll on from there," said Camping follower Michael Garcia, a 39-year-old father of six. "That's why God raised up all the technology and the satellites so everyone can see it happen at the same time."
The Oakland, California, headquarters of the network of 66 US stations was shuttered with a sign in the door that read "This Office is Closed. Sorry we missed you!"
Family Radio officials, with the help of supporters, had posted over 2000 billboards around the country warning of a May 21 Judgement Day. The headquarters, which appears to be normally closed on Saturday, was also shuttered on Friday.
Retired Metropolitan Transportation Authority worker Robert Fitzpatrick, 60, said he spent more than US$140,000 of his savings on subway posters and bus shelter advertisements warning of the May 21 Judgement Day.
"God's people are commanded to sound the warning, to sound the trumpet so to speak so people know," Fitzpatrick said of his advertising blitz. He said Camping led him to believe Judgement Day would be May 21, but added that he disagreed with the broadcaster's prediction it would begin in Asia.
In Fitzpatrick's view, from his reading of the Bible, Judgement Day would begin around 6 pm Eastern Time. He said on Saturday he still had no doubt Judgement Day would come this day.
"I wouldn't even entertain that question because there's too much proof from the Bible," he said.
Showing posts with label Sensing Bullshit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sensing Bullshit. Show all posts
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
What A Bunch Of Cork Soakers
Well Ken ‘Moon Man’ Ring got that one right didn’t he? What a cork soaker.
Sad isn’t it, that one aging hippy with a theory about the moon and tides has almost had as much press as the earthquake he reckons he predicted. Even sadder that the media in this country tried milking it for everything they could get, just in case. The cork soakers.
Good ol Ken - let’s call him Ringpiece for short - predicted that another major earthquake would happen in Christchurch on the 20th of March, just before lunch time. Ringpiece, it should be noted, claimed to have predicted the big one too. After it had happened.
Then he changed that prediction to be a couple of days either side of the 20th. Finally he decided it wasn’t going to be an earthquake at all, but rather a spot of bad weather. Naturally a lot of folk down that way, upon hearing this prediction, freaked. And who would blame them given that their life these days is one big aftershock occasionally interrupted by normality?
So why the change in prediction this time? Did the pressure of expectation get to him? Did the moon and tides suddenly change? Maybe the tsunami generated by Japans earthquake threw the charts of course. Whatever the excuse something must have happened because it’s quite the downgrade isn’t it, from a major shifting of the Earth’s tectonic plates to a spot of precipitation in the air?
It was foggy in Christchurch today actually. Cue the spooky music.
Maybe it’s because just like physics and tarot card readers he’s full of shit? Ringpiece reminds me a lot of a conspiracy theorist and I farken hate them. And just like a theorist it strikes me that someone like Ringpiece doesn’t actually need to prove anything.
Oh sure, science hasn’t yet proven any correlation between the cycle of the moon and the frequencies of earthquakes but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection. Likewise no one has actually proven that Tower 11 was an inside job on 9 / 11 but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t and nobody can really say for sure if MI5 killed Princess Diana because again, no one has proved they didn’t.
Only they have, for all three of the above scenarios, but guys like Ringpiece thrive on that little bit of doubt that exists when the full story can’t ever be laid out from start to finish like it is in the movies. They work on coincidence and happenstance and so long as there is fear of the unknown they get the publicity they long for in order to promote their myth conceptions.
And Ringpiece has had loads of publicity. My favorite was when he appeared on Harae Mae John Campbell’s show and got ripped to shreds by a host who was given the dirty nappy of all interviews by his producers and was clearly pissed about it. He got a lot of stick about it too did John but I for one thought he did a fine job tearing strips off a fear monger.
In Ringpiece’s case it’s a win win situation; predicting weather and shit is flaky at best and no one ever expects meteorologists and alike to get it right all of the time. So he predicts a lunar event that if it doesn’t come off means nothing, no sweat off anybody’s sack, but if he gets it right he becomes the authority on everything. Or in his own words:
"My business is only a bunch of opinions, as I have wearily repeated. There is no claim on accuracy; proof or anything other than that I have opinions."
"I don't claim to predict the weather. No-one can. We are not gods. Nobody has all the answers. In my books, it states on paragraph one on page one that what I say is opinion."
Nice bit of bullet dodging that, claiming his is an opinion. The book is $48 by the way and can be found on the shelf labeled ‘B for Bullshit’ at your nearest bookseller. Right next to Kelvin Quickwanks literary efforts.
Christchurch did have a sizeable aftershock last night, 5.1 to be exact. The believers will of course say The Moon Man got it right but that ignores the fact that before he changed his prediction three times, he reckoned it would be a magnitude 7+. In his own opinion, of course.
Perhaps he’ll claim next that tomorrow is going to be Tuesday too, in a remarkable piece of foresight he could have only extracted from his ring piece.
Sad isn’t it, that one aging hippy with a theory about the moon and tides has almost had as much press as the earthquake he reckons he predicted. Even sadder that the media in this country tried milking it for everything they could get, just in case. The cork soakers.
Good ol Ken - let’s call him Ringpiece for short - predicted that another major earthquake would happen in Christchurch on the 20th of March, just before lunch time. Ringpiece, it should be noted, claimed to have predicted the big one too. After it had happened.
Then he changed that prediction to be a couple of days either side of the 20th. Finally he decided it wasn’t going to be an earthquake at all, but rather a spot of bad weather. Naturally a lot of folk down that way, upon hearing this prediction, freaked. And who would blame them given that their life these days is one big aftershock occasionally interrupted by normality?
So why the change in prediction this time? Did the pressure of expectation get to him? Did the moon and tides suddenly change? Maybe the tsunami generated by Japans earthquake threw the charts of course. Whatever the excuse something must have happened because it’s quite the downgrade isn’t it, from a major shifting of the Earth’s tectonic plates to a spot of precipitation in the air?
It was foggy in Christchurch today actually. Cue the spooky music.
Maybe it’s because just like physics and tarot card readers he’s full of shit? Ringpiece reminds me a lot of a conspiracy theorist and I farken hate them. And just like a theorist it strikes me that someone like Ringpiece doesn’t actually need to prove anything.
Oh sure, science hasn’t yet proven any correlation between the cycle of the moon and the frequencies of earthquakes but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection. Likewise no one has actually proven that Tower 11 was an inside job on 9 / 11 but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t and nobody can really say for sure if MI5 killed Princess Diana because again, no one has proved they didn’t.
Only they have, for all three of the above scenarios, but guys like Ringpiece thrive on that little bit of doubt that exists when the full story can’t ever be laid out from start to finish like it is in the movies. They work on coincidence and happenstance and so long as there is fear of the unknown they get the publicity they long for in order to promote their myth conceptions.
And Ringpiece has had loads of publicity. My favorite was when he appeared on Harae Mae John Campbell’s show and got ripped to shreds by a host who was given the dirty nappy of all interviews by his producers and was clearly pissed about it. He got a lot of stick about it too did John but I for one thought he did a fine job tearing strips off a fear monger.
In Ringpiece’s case it’s a win win situation; predicting weather and shit is flaky at best and no one ever expects meteorologists and alike to get it right all of the time. So he predicts a lunar event that if it doesn’t come off means nothing, no sweat off anybody’s sack, but if he gets it right he becomes the authority on everything. Or in his own words:
"My business is only a bunch of opinions, as I have wearily repeated. There is no claim on accuracy; proof or anything other than that I have opinions."
"I don't claim to predict the weather. No-one can. We are not gods. Nobody has all the answers. In my books, it states on paragraph one on page one that what I say is opinion."
Nice bit of bullet dodging that, claiming his is an opinion. The book is $48 by the way and can be found on the shelf labeled ‘B for Bullshit’ at your nearest bookseller. Right next to Kelvin Quickwanks literary efforts.
Christchurch did have a sizeable aftershock last night, 5.1 to be exact. The believers will of course say The Moon Man got it right but that ignores the fact that before he changed his prediction three times, he reckoned it would be a magnitude 7+. In his own opinion, of course.
Perhaps he’ll claim next that tomorrow is going to be Tuesday too, in a remarkable piece of foresight he could have only extracted from his ring piece.
What a cork soaker.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
God (Bill) Touched Me
Sometimes, just sometimes, I come across something that even makes me laugh with the absurdity of it all. Today it was the receipt of the flyer from Bill & Pat Subritzky who on the face of it are fucken miracle workers.
Bill is a NZ Evangelist and Pat, his bitch. She follows Bill around the world conducting evangelistic outreach meetings and teaching seminars for women on behalf of the Body of Christ. Or so says the blurb on their website but I reckon she follows him around for another reason; he loves laying his healing hands on women.
Take the testimonies on the flyer – all the standard chaff about healing cancer, arthritis and kidney failure etc and all made by women. “Jesus Christ Saves and Heals” reads the flyer, whilst Bill it seems, fingers the feeble. The proof of the pudding is on the back of the flyer where Pat promises that in her meeting for women, you will receive the touch from God. Or Bill.
Of course, having read all that, I felt compelled to visit the Dove Ministries website (www.biblicalbullshit.com) where I honestly expected to find them selling bottled miracles or at the very least, Bills man juice.
They’re not, but it sounds like they should be, especially with their extensive list of testimonials including the Gods work they did in Nigeria where they verified the work of a fellow bullshit artist who claims to have performed such miracles as:
1. Healing impotency.
2. Deliverance of witches.
3. Healing of breasts.
4. Healing people of HIV.
5. Women healed of barrenness.
6. Woman healed of Parkinson disease.
7. Paralysed young man with broken spinal cord is healed.
8. Deaf boy healed.
9. Healing of blindness, diabetes and heart problem.
10. Stillborn baby brought back to life when sermon notes laid on him.
11. Man locked in iron bars because of insanity is healed.
12. Dead Man for 90 minutes Raised At Church Of Synagogue
13. Healing of epilepsy.
14. English woman healed instantly from blindness.
15. American woman healed from bronchitis, breathing problems, heart problems, triple bypass, as well as emphysema.
16. South African woman with osteoporosis and fracture of the spine, chronic bladder infection and insomnia. Wears a jacket brace to hold back together. God touched her mightily.
Through the site you can book a trip for $270 a week plus another $200 for a visa. The Subritsky’s recommend you stay two weeks in order to get yourself touched mightily. Nothing is too difficult for God.
I don’t know about you lot but I am sold. I plan to go as soon as the nightmares from my last trip there cease. That was the time I got an email from my long lost uncle telling me he had a two million dollar inheritance for me but I’d have to send him some money because he could transfer it out.
Rather than transfer him the cash – far too risky I reckoned – I decided to hand deliver the cash. I emailed him to tell him I was on my way and enclosed a photo of me so he could pick me out at the airport.
Once I arrived I was beaten and taken to a small hotel room on the outskirts of town. I was stripped and kissed by dark and very hairy men. One of the men, named Carl, was very gentle and told me he loved me but the others were rough. So very rough.
I struggled and told them I was a friend of my uncle but they tied me up and took turns kissing my beautiful body, touching me and making me do things I had sometimes thought about and imagined, but had never expected to really happen because I am straight.
The fact that one of the men looked like a black version of my dad kind of freaked me out and Carl turned out to be huge but like I said, he was very gentle and we just took things really slow. He's cool, we have swapped emails since. Nothing gay though, because he knows I am straight.
On second thought, no thanks God, that was all the touching I need.
Is it just me or do Bill and Pat look a lot alike....?Wednesday, February 17, 2010
More Sensing Bullshit?!
Let’s be careful out there folks, because yet another series of Sensing Bullshit has hit our small screens.
Kelvin Quickwank and his mutton-dressed-as-lamb colleague will spend the next few weeks making grandiose generalisations and case breaking observations that must have escaped experienced Police detectives, like that the room in the old, empty house is oh so cold in the middle of winter, or that when they walked buy the tree by the river at moved, as if it was trying to tell them something...
And like all the other times they showed this rubbish they will at the end of it, have contributed absolutely nothing to the solving of cold cases that they spent so long researching in the hope that it would appear miraculous that they know what they know about it.
The fans of Quickwank and the show will, of course, lap this shit up and start emailing editors and calling talk shows as if the solving of the case depends on it. Everyone else will avoid it like the plague and do something meaningful with their time.
Like have a Cruickshank.
Kelvin Quickwank and his mutton-dressed-as-lamb colleague will spend the next few weeks making grandiose generalisations and case breaking observations that must have escaped experienced Police detectives, like that the room in the old, empty house is oh so cold in the middle of winter, or that when they walked buy the tree by the river at moved, as if it was trying to tell them something...
And like all the other times they showed this rubbish they will at the end of it, have contributed absolutely nothing to the solving of cold cases that they spent so long researching in the hope that it would appear miraculous that they know what they know about it.
The fans of Quickwank and the show will, of course, lap this shit up and start emailing editors and calling talk shows as if the solving of the case depends on it. Everyone else will avoid it like the plague and do something meaningful with their time.
Like have a Cruickshank.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Infinity, Plus One.
Did you ever play that game at school with some smart arse who proclaimed that no matter what number you could think of he could think of one higher?
Naturally the biggest figure you could think of was 'infinity' but the focker could even beat that; he would retort 'plus one' and walk away before you or anyone noticed the stiffie that was forming in his corduroys with all the excitement of being 'right'.
Incidentally everyone's Mum made them wear cords back in the day because they were so hardy. Naff, but hardy. And if you tried to get out of wearing them by ripping a hole in the knee or crutch Mum just patched the bastards up, with some colour other than that of the cords. Now you were still wearing naff cords with naff knee patches. Mum fights back.
It was a futile argument then to try and convince the jammy prick that his premise was fundamentally flawed, the same way it is today with people who whole heartily believe in psychics, ghosts, conspiracy theories and even religion. And nothing brings out the crackpots quite like a missing toddler but I've whacked on about this kind of thing before and you and I are probably both sick of hearing me say it, which makes this blog all the more sweeter.
That was written of course before the terrible news came to light of just what exactly happened to wee Aisling but that hasn't stopped one such seer of dead people claiming that her vision that Aisling was 'in a hole or ditch' was spot on.
Only a drain, or specifically an underground drain pipe, is neither technically a hole or a ditch and although one needs to be dug before the pipe can be laid you would be hard pressed to argue otherwise. But then that's the psychics chief weapon; extreme vagueness. That and they can count higher than you. Infinity? Plus one.
After the grim news broke a large section of NZ started on one of their favourite pastimes - playing the blame game. And no one is immune from it; if only the mother hadn't turned her back on the child, if only the Police had of checked the drain better or if only the council had of fixed the drain weeks ago.
It's all bullshit and irrelevant now. Even with the benefit of hindsight this tragedy has to be seen for what it is, a terrible moment in time that happened by cruel chance. Will something similar happen to some other poor child elsewhere in the future? Sadly yes.
Busy, tired Mums will take their eyes of their toddlers, frantic Police will make split second decisions in times of great duress like when searching for a lost child and councils will spend their days ticketing cars parked partially on the footpaths of tight, narrow cul-de-sacs like mine then fixing faulty drain covers.
And some smart arse will try and convince you that he / she can count higher than you, or pretend to have images of a body in a vague location that kind of matches the usual description of where a body is found.
Plus one? Fuck off, you vultures.
Naturally the biggest figure you could think of was 'infinity' but the focker could even beat that; he would retort 'plus one' and walk away before you or anyone noticed the stiffie that was forming in his corduroys with all the excitement of being 'right'.
Incidentally everyone's Mum made them wear cords back in the day because they were so hardy. Naff, but hardy. And if you tried to get out of wearing them by ripping a hole in the knee or crutch Mum just patched the bastards up, with some colour other than that of the cords. Now you were still wearing naff cords with naff knee patches. Mum fights back.
It was a futile argument then to try and convince the jammy prick that his premise was fundamentally flawed, the same way it is today with people who whole heartily believe in psychics, ghosts, conspiracy theories and even religion. And nothing brings out the crackpots quite like a missing toddler but I've whacked on about this kind of thing before and you and I are probably both sick of hearing me say it, which makes this blog all the more sweeter.
That was written of course before the terrible news came to light of just what exactly happened to wee Aisling but that hasn't stopped one such seer of dead people claiming that her vision that Aisling was 'in a hole or ditch' was spot on.
Only a drain, or specifically an underground drain pipe, is neither technically a hole or a ditch and although one needs to be dug before the pipe can be laid you would be hard pressed to argue otherwise. But then that's the psychics chief weapon; extreme vagueness. That and they can count higher than you. Infinity? Plus one.
After the grim news broke a large section of NZ started on one of their favourite pastimes - playing the blame game. And no one is immune from it; if only the mother hadn't turned her back on the child, if only the Police had of checked the drain better or if only the council had of fixed the drain weeks ago.
It's all bullshit and irrelevant now. Even with the benefit of hindsight this tragedy has to be seen for what it is, a terrible moment in time that happened by cruel chance. Will something similar happen to some other poor child elsewhere in the future? Sadly yes.
Busy, tired Mums will take their eyes of their toddlers, frantic Police will make split second decisions in times of great duress like when searching for a lost child and councils will spend their days ticketing cars parked partially on the footpaths of tight, narrow cul-de-sacs like mine then fixing faulty drain covers.
And some smart arse will try and convince you that he / she can count higher than you, or pretend to have images of a body in a vague location that kind of matches the usual description of where a body is found.
Plus one? Fuck off, you vultures.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sensing Bullshit - And Making Money Doing It
Fans of the TV show Sensing Bullshit have collectively wet themselves this past week with the release of Kelvin Cruickshank's book 'Walking In Light'.
Surprisingly the book sits atop the non-fiction charts this week which either shows that Cruickshank and Bullshit has a lot of fans, or it’s been an exceedingly slow week in the world of non-fiction. I suspect it's the latter but either way Cruickshank is probably wearing a cheesy smile as big as the one he has on the cover of the book; each copy costs $45 and you don't have to be clairvoyant to solve this rape case.
Now the loose translation of the term 'non-fiction' is that it's true and / or that it depicts events that actually happened. Yes, Cruickshank’s book is an autobiography, of sorts, but it tells the story (and it is a story) of "his earliest physic experiences and his struggles to accept his gift". A gift lets not forget, that is yet to be scientifically proven actually exists, so how the hell does his $45 cash cow make it into the non-fiction category?
Well lets be honest, if The Da Vinci Code can make that list, so can my yet to be published memoirs of Vietnam. Unlike Cruickshank I won't use my real name, preferring instead to use my non de plume Heywood. Heywood Yablowme.
Cruickshank’s blurb continues on about how his $45 enema contains recollections of the "amazingly accurate communications he has shared with believers and skeptics alike". I wonder if Cruikshank’s recollections differ from those people he’s listed. It's his side of the story after all and hey, if you really want to dispute his telling of it then you're first going to have to shell out $45 to read his version. Even if you were to find out that what he said you said wasn't really said at all, he still wins! The fucker. He saw that coming, because he’s a medium. You didn’t, because you’re a tit.
Isn't it funny how "special guys" like Cruickshank who have "special gifts" charge shitloads to share it? It's almost as if they don't want to share it at all. If I had the ability to solve unsolved cases I would give up everything to travel the world helping Police lock up the killers of the world and end the heartache for the families who lost loved ones to the bastards. If I was actually any good at it and my information actually led to arrests and closure of cases - something that Cruickshank or any of his like have yet to achieve anywhere in the world - then people would pay for me to do so.
I wouldn't need to write novels that have about as much factual content as the Mr Men series of books. I wouldn't need to charge $70 for the DVD of the scripted, post produced TV series that is as much reality television as is The Hills. You can even buy a Cruickshank tee shirt for $50, or pay a couple of grand to take a spiritual tour of Ayers Rock with him. You don’t get the tee shirt for free if you do, its still $50.
You see so called psychics don't actually have jobs, they spend their days rehearsing the act that is being a ‘physic’ and they have to make ends meet somehow. If you're silly enough to pay to see them live or buy the DVD you're doing nothing more than pay for a show, containing performers who like actors have learnt their lines and wait for their cues.
Further into Cruickshank’s book blurb it lists how he struggled with his 'gift' until nine years ago when he had a breakdown and finally accepted he was 'special'. Here’s what I think actually happened nine years ago; Cruickshank realised he could make a lot of money pretending to see dead people. All he had to do was learn a whole bunch of names that were common 50 years ago and learn how to use the power of suggestion when 'questioning' people.
Walking In Light? Wanking you in the dark more like.
Surprisingly the book sits atop the non-fiction charts this week which either shows that Cruickshank and Bullshit has a lot of fans, or it’s been an exceedingly slow week in the world of non-fiction. I suspect it's the latter but either way Cruickshank is probably wearing a cheesy smile as big as the one he has on the cover of the book; each copy costs $45 and you don't have to be clairvoyant to solve this rape case.
Now the loose translation of the term 'non-fiction' is that it's true and / or that it depicts events that actually happened. Yes, Cruickshank’s book is an autobiography, of sorts, but it tells the story (and it is a story) of "his earliest physic experiences and his struggles to accept his gift". A gift lets not forget, that is yet to be scientifically proven actually exists, so how the hell does his $45 cash cow make it into the non-fiction category?
Well lets be honest, if The Da Vinci Code can make that list, so can my yet to be published memoirs of Vietnam. Unlike Cruickshank I won't use my real name, preferring instead to use my non de plume Heywood. Heywood Yablowme.
Cruickshank’s blurb continues on about how his $45 enema contains recollections of the "amazingly accurate communications he has shared with believers and skeptics alike". I wonder if Cruikshank’s recollections differ from those people he’s listed. It's his side of the story after all and hey, if you really want to dispute his telling of it then you're first going to have to shell out $45 to read his version. Even if you were to find out that what he said you said wasn't really said at all, he still wins! The fucker. He saw that coming, because he’s a medium. You didn’t, because you’re a tit.
Isn't it funny how "special guys" like Cruickshank who have "special gifts" charge shitloads to share it? It's almost as if they don't want to share it at all. If I had the ability to solve unsolved cases I would give up everything to travel the world helping Police lock up the killers of the world and end the heartache for the families who lost loved ones to the bastards. If I was actually any good at it and my information actually led to arrests and closure of cases - something that Cruickshank or any of his like have yet to achieve anywhere in the world - then people would pay for me to do so.
I wouldn't need to write novels that have about as much factual content as the Mr Men series of books. I wouldn't need to charge $70 for the DVD of the scripted, post produced TV series that is as much reality television as is The Hills. You can even buy a Cruickshank tee shirt for $50, or pay a couple of grand to take a spiritual tour of Ayers Rock with him. You don’t get the tee shirt for free if you do, its still $50.
You see so called psychics don't actually have jobs, they spend their days rehearsing the act that is being a ‘physic’ and they have to make ends meet somehow. If you're silly enough to pay to see them live or buy the DVD you're doing nothing more than pay for a show, containing performers who like actors have learnt their lines and wait for their cues.
Further into Cruickshank’s book blurb it lists how he struggled with his 'gift' until nine years ago when he had a breakdown and finally accepted he was 'special'. Here’s what I think actually happened nine years ago; Cruickshank realised he could make a lot of money pretending to see dead people. All he had to do was learn a whole bunch of names that were common 50 years ago and learn how to use the power of suggestion when 'questioning' people.
Walking In Light? Wanking you in the dark more like.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Dumb and Dumber
I’ve got a great idea for a TV game show. Its working title is ‘Blind Root’, which may be a bit ‘edgy’ so I’m open to suggestions at this early stage of planning.
The premise will be that each week one contestant has several sexual encounters (all on camera of course), whilst wearing a blindfold and then has to rate their performance. Then back at the studio they have to work out who was who by simply playing with their bits. If contestant number one picks his / her best Blind Root they get syphilis as a prize. If not, they don’t go home empty handed, they get pubic lice from one of the more mediocre roots.
This is not a new concept of mine. I’ve actually had this idea for some time but I’ve had renewed hope it will make it to TV this week after seeing them kooky Koreans choose their nations first astronaut by reality game show. It was an Astronaut Idol type concept and I hope there’s a second instalment for when all the astronauts are up in space; Who Gets To Come Home? idol. Now that would make for some good viewing and seeing as it’s a mission funded by the Ruskies, the chances of them running out of cash half way is not as far fetched as it would seem.
Them Asians really know how to do reality TV game shows though. Most of theirs involve self torture, or pain and that makes for good TV, especially in Asia where they like to bury their European girls in bath tubs of sand on the apartment room balcony. Here in New Zealand we just do idiocy on our shows, like Are You Smarter Than A 10 Year Old, copied from the American show of the same format.
Actually the first episode set all sorts of new viewer ship records here because all the paedophiles tuned in thinking it was called “Are You Tighter Than A 10 Year Old”. Needless to say they quickly realised their error and returned to trawling Bebo and Facebook.
This is entertainment at its lowest ebb. You take several shit for brain adults and prove just how thick they are. Everyone watching feels great because they realise they’re not as thick as the contestant and the kids on the show, the real stars, feel great because they know they're not as thick as the contestants. It must be one hell of an audition process. I would never have believed that we have so many dip shits in New Zealand but obviously I was wrong, for once in my life.
It can't be easy being labelled like homemade jam. You’d think that if you were slightly slow the last thing you’d want is for the van you’re riding in to read ‘Special Needs School’ in big letters along the side, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the van load of spastics I passed on the way home the other day riding in just such a van. Man, they can’t even have a quiet dribble in the van without being labelled for all to see. I did wonder though if the ones sitting at the back thought they were getting a longer ride home....
I am dubious of reality shows though and of just how much editing goes into the process. Some folk are suckers for a good dose of edited make believe, like all those that watch rubbish like Sensing Bullshit or any other show that deals with ‘mediums’ solving anything. Just watching it wouldn’t be so bad I reckon but when people actually believe that what they’re seeing is groundbreaking stuff then that gets on my tits.
No medium or physic has ever been attributed with helping to solve a crime. Ever. Not just here in NZ but in the world. Now if that’s not definitive proof that the edited, scripted, shake stuff off camera to make it move production you just watched is the biggest work of fiction since the bible then what is? The reason this rubbish is on prime time telly and not buried in the twilight hours where only the kiddie fiddlers surfing Bebo would watch it, is because too many potential contestants for Are You Denser Than A 10 Year Old tune in and cop out at 8.30pm!
Mind you, the scariest thing I’ve seen on the box for quite some time was an ad for David Gray’s Best Of CD. I didn’t even know that Mr Elevator Themes had one hit song, let alone enough of them to make a whole collection of 10 – 12 tracks. I reckon guys like Gray, James Blunt and NZ's own Greg Johnson should all be locked in a room together with a few empty 1.2 litre Coke bottles and be forced to listen to each others songs.
The last dude standing who hasn’t hung himself with his own guitar chords gets to be a contestant on Blind Root.
The premise will be that each week one contestant has several sexual encounters (all on camera of course), whilst wearing a blindfold and then has to rate their performance. Then back at the studio they have to work out who was who by simply playing with their bits. If contestant number one picks his / her best Blind Root they get syphilis as a prize. If not, they don’t go home empty handed, they get pubic lice from one of the more mediocre roots.
This is not a new concept of mine. I’ve actually had this idea for some time but I’ve had renewed hope it will make it to TV this week after seeing them kooky Koreans choose their nations first astronaut by reality game show. It was an Astronaut Idol type concept and I hope there’s a second instalment for when all the astronauts are up in space; Who Gets To Come Home? idol. Now that would make for some good viewing and seeing as it’s a mission funded by the Ruskies, the chances of them running out of cash half way is not as far fetched as it would seem.
Them Asians really know how to do reality TV game shows though. Most of theirs involve self torture, or pain and that makes for good TV, especially in Asia where they like to bury their European girls in bath tubs of sand on the apartment room balcony. Here in New Zealand we just do idiocy on our shows, like Are You Smarter Than A 10 Year Old, copied from the American show of the same format.
Actually the first episode set all sorts of new viewer ship records here because all the paedophiles tuned in thinking it was called “Are You Tighter Than A 10 Year Old”. Needless to say they quickly realised their error and returned to trawling Bebo and Facebook.
This is entertainment at its lowest ebb. You take several shit for brain adults and prove just how thick they are. Everyone watching feels great because they realise they’re not as thick as the contestant and the kids on the show, the real stars, feel great because they know they're not as thick as the contestants. It must be one hell of an audition process. I would never have believed that we have so many dip shits in New Zealand but obviously I was wrong, for once in my life.
It can't be easy being labelled like homemade jam. You’d think that if you were slightly slow the last thing you’d want is for the van you’re riding in to read ‘Special Needs School’ in big letters along the side, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the van load of spastics I passed on the way home the other day riding in just such a van. Man, they can’t even have a quiet dribble in the van without being labelled for all to see. I did wonder though if the ones sitting at the back thought they were getting a longer ride home....
I am dubious of reality shows though and of just how much editing goes into the process. Some folk are suckers for a good dose of edited make believe, like all those that watch rubbish like Sensing Bullshit or any other show that deals with ‘mediums’ solving anything. Just watching it wouldn’t be so bad I reckon but when people actually believe that what they’re seeing is groundbreaking stuff then that gets on my tits.
No medium or physic has ever been attributed with helping to solve a crime. Ever. Not just here in NZ but in the world. Now if that’s not definitive proof that the edited, scripted, shake stuff off camera to make it move production you just watched is the biggest work of fiction since the bible then what is? The reason this rubbish is on prime time telly and not buried in the twilight hours where only the kiddie fiddlers surfing Bebo would watch it, is because too many potential contestants for Are You Denser Than A 10 Year Old tune in and cop out at 8.30pm!
Mind you, the scariest thing I’ve seen on the box for quite some time was an ad for David Gray’s Best Of CD. I didn’t even know that Mr Elevator Themes had one hit song, let alone enough of them to make a whole collection of 10 – 12 tracks. I reckon guys like Gray, James Blunt and NZ's own Greg Johnson should all be locked in a room together with a few empty 1.2 litre Coke bottles and be forced to listen to each others songs.
The last dude standing who hasn’t hung himself with his own guitar chords gets to be a contestant on Blind Root.
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