There Once Was a Teddy Bear From Nantucket
Like the cancer he is -- itchy rectal -- I think we may have finally found a cure for Seth MacFarlane. He's already pretty much dominated Sundays on Fox with three shows that are like nesting dolls of ass-suck, and now he's gonna go to the big screen. And I'm hoping this element of over-saturation will finally pop him like the festering acne on his fan base.
Universal has decided to pony up (hey, there's an idea! Maybe one of the characters can be a pony, OOH! a My Little Pony but if it's got a girl voice we won't know how to write lines for it other than stuff about its period, man this crystal meth is the fucking TITS, that's what we'll call her My Tittle Pony! Voiced by Tina Yothers) the reported $65 million dollars for MacFarlane's big screen directorial debut -- Ted, a HARD R CGI comedy about a man and his teddy bear (to be voiced by Seth MacFarlane). Cinema has not been a kind medium to popular television programs making the leap, nor to their creators' efforts.
Understand this. I watch "Family Guy" and "The Simpsons" reruns with an almost religious zeal. I practically petitioned the government to execute Fox executives for taking it off the air, and cheered fervently for its return. Shit, the spec script I wrote in grad school was for "Family Guy," and was one of the only decent ones to come out of the class. (And actually ended up relatively close to one of the episodes the Manatee Machine eventually shat out, much to my chagrin.) But the descent in quality of the "Family Guy" of Yesteryear to the woebegotten shibacle it is currently is perhaps more shameful than the senior-citizen striptease "The Simpsons" keeps shuffling out in the last decade. If "The Simpsons" is the granny with her hairy nipples brushing the crumpled dollars as she continues to grind to "I've Got Something In My Pocket for You" played through a grammaphone, Seth MacFarlane's become the red-eyed harpie with bloody scratches on both cheeks from trying to rend her own meth-addled face in the mirror, issuing gibbon-shrieks to Cannibal Corpse as she tries to gouge out the eyes of the patrons with her stilettos. His shows have gotten progressively worse, with deranged fanboys masturbating to a photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopy of a blurred Polaroid someone's claiming might be their sister's vagina and part of a boob. It's 12 shit-smeared monkeys at typewriters seeing if they can TMZ the most arbitrarily shocking reference into anything. Wanna write a "Family Guy" episode? Flip between "I Love the '80s" on VH1 and an episode of "Home Improvement" on Nick at Nite while repeatedly yelling swear words at your television. Or "Family Matters" if it's "The Cleveland Show." If you can honestly watch "The Cleveland Show" and think that any part of that fucking tardfest is worth half a chuckle, I hope the Linkin Park you downloaded into your iPod is irradiating any chances of procreation.
Of course, Ted will make a billion fucking dollars. It won't be funny -- just like Howard Stern isn't funny when he's uncensored. It'll be Gooby with dick jokes. It'll be a humiliation of all the sketches MacFarlane couldn't get past the censors cobbled together with lyrics to a Tiffany song and an ironic Alf reference. Because it's obvious from every episode of "Family Guy" since they got burned the first time. MacFarlane doesn't know how to write a lucid plot. Look at what's happened with the musical "Road To" episodes. And to get people's attention for more than 22 minutes, you have to keep the story moving. But not for him. His fans will show up in droves and support it no matter how hard it sucks. And god bless him. Because I don't blame MacFarlane. He's like fucking Howard Hughes in his little bunker. He's a genius gone to shit.
And you know what? There's a small part of me, a small kid-like will-o'-the-wisp that's buzzing around in that fatty carbunkle of a heart o' mine, the one that can bring Tinkerbell back to pole-dancing with a clap of hands, that believes that maybe MacFarlane is gonna blow the fucking doors off the car with this. That even he's sick to death of cranking out turds and having people cheer his bouquet. That maybe he's been stockpiling his creativity and that this was his secret project that kept him from going batfuckingshit at press junkets where he cut the ribbon on the latest MacDonaldFarland production.
And that little fucker needs a hug from a bugzapper.
Around the Web
Like Our Facebook Page And an Angel Does the Paul Rudd Dance
blog comments powered by Disqus