JP's Journal

I’ve eaten so much at Golden Corral that I can barely move. It was all you can eat, and I ate more than I should. I ate more than anyone should. I’m sitting here digesting an entire food bar.

I am melting into the couch, while my girl watches Dance Moms on the DVR. It’s a show about drama whores and their children.

It’s hard to take dance competitions seriously. It’s one of those subjective sports, where unless you fall or do the horny fishermen, it’s anyone’s guess who won.

She also watches a bit of Jerry Springer. What do the bouncers think about their jobs? These guys get the crap kicked out of them each day by people, who in the moment would so love to kill each other. Maybe one day I will get my Jerry Beads, but I don’t think I have the nipples for it.

Then there is Maury Povich. There is something so satisfying about the guy not being the father. It’s sweet because she isn’t looking for a father at all. She is looking for a child support check. She is looking for a guy to “man up” an start buying stuff. When he isn’t the father, you can just see all the lies she told herself evaporate. The elation from a man who dodged the consequences from his one not stand explodes. This usually followed by the women doing the sprint of shame off stage. It’s okay though. She will be back screaming brain shattering nonsense and swearing that this one is the one.

My girl doesn’t like to watch Steve Wilco when I am in the room. Steve Wilco, that Uncle Fester smug little fucker. The worst kind of bullies are the self righteous ones. Steve Wilco’s entire premise is that he is the arbiter of the truth. His tools include a smug attitude and a lie detector. Like detectors are less accurate than a magic eight ball. They are no longer admissible in court, and I have only seen them taken seriously by certain government contractors. Most jobs require little more than a secret or top secret clearance, but a few require a life style poly. Even I don’t have the life style required for a life style poly. I think these jobs are staffed by hamsters. Steve Wilco uses the test and a line of questioning to incriminate people of actual crimes, shit people go to prison for like rape, molestation, and child abuse. He does this with a test that is at best inaccurate. Who knows what the man does to keep his ratings. The show usually ends with him throwing some guy off his stage, flinging a chair or two, and everyone goes back to their shitty impoverished lives.

And then I call the man a scumbag under my breath. My girlfriend usually looks up from what she is doing and says “what?”. “Steve Wilco is a horses ass,” I say. She looks at the TV for a moment and says “Oh I wasn’t watching it.”

I like to poke fun at her for watching these shows, but I am the one that gets emotionally invested in them when they are on. She just likes background noise. It is probably not a good sign that I need a Xanax candy bar when I watch this stuff.

But

Steve Wilco is still a smug ass hole.

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.