Showing posts with label Da-da's mad as hell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Da-da's mad as hell. Show all posts

11.9.12

Let's Get This Cat Box Off the Ground: Another Open Letter to Roger Goodell, NFL Commish and Slow Learner

This is for you, Rog, from the King of Kid Advocacy.

Hi, Roger. Yeah, it's Da-da, again. You obviously didn't read Da-da's previous letter regarding all the R-rated commercials you were allowing NFL broadcasters to show at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, starting back in 2009. Well, THEY'VE GOTTEN WORSE. At 9:58 am this past Sunday morning, Da-da was curious to see a few opening kick-offs, so he tuned in a bit early, only to have to shut off the damn TV so Da-da's 5 and 7 year old boys didn't see a woman getting raped while grinning villians blew people away with shotguns. Da-da KNOWS this is the kinda thing that goes on 24/7 at your house, Rog, but that doesn't mean the rest of us need to strap our own kids in the counseling chair before they learn to tie their shoes. Roginator, would YOU like to come to Da-da's house at one o'clock in the morning to comfort Da-da's kids when they have nightmares about your ugly hype-world of fear and violence and cruelty and greed? Da-da's guessing no. Da-da's 110% sure he doesn't want you, or any NFL broadcaster, within a hundred miles of Da-da's progeny, anyway.

So. What now?

In lieu of the non-policing we in America have in terms of commercial violence (Da-da will leave that one open for interpretation), does Da-da need to bring a class-action lawsuit against broadcasters Fox and CBS and ESPN for failing to rate R-rated commercials before they air in prime time? And maybe one against the FCC, which is supposed to, "protect the airwaves"? Perhaps you could take a step toward ameliorating legislation and civil suits by, in future, offering the following disclaimer before any R-rated commercials:

"THE FOLLOWING COMMERCIAL GLORIFIES EXTREME VIOLENCE, RAPE, MURDER, BESTIALITY AND UNRESTRAINED FLUORIDATION. VIEWERS YOUNGER THAN 90 ARE ASKED TO CHANGE THE CHANNEL OR GO OUTSIDE AND BREATHE SOME FRESH AIR OR, GOD FORBID, READ A BOOK, WHILE OF COURSE REFUSING TO EVER HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE FOLLOWING WEAK-ASS PRODUCT THAT CAN ONLY BE SOLD THROUGH FEAR AND SALACIOUS INTRIGUE... OH WAIT, NEVER MIND, OUR TIME'S UP. SORRY. BUY THIS THING [INSERT PICTURE OF THING HELD BY SCANTILY CLAD WOMAN]."

Or, perhaps broadcasters might go back to the way things used to be, back when decency wasn't a four-letter word. Back when broadcasters had a conscience -- WAY back -- when they took the high road and agreed to show no R-rated material until AFTER 8:00 pm, reserving G-rated content for the daylight hours when little kids might be watching. What a concept.


However, if broadcasters and the NFL can only survive by pandering fear-porn at 9:00 am on a Sunday morning, then broadcasters and the NFL have officially Jumped the Shark, and television is indeed dead.

[Wait... Da-da's a telepathic link with His Rogination, has been activated... it's unpleasant and painful and kinda icky, but...] Ah, Rogerlicious is saying that that's what America IS, now: one giant R-rated commercial that you turn off the second you see it. Oh, and that it's also Jumped the Shark. [Telepathic link terminated. Phew.]

At least we still have the right to turn Fonzie's courageous shark-jumping off, just like some people who shall be nameless, have been doing with the U.S. Constitution and all our rights. And with all our money. Does Da-da need to offer any more reasons to join The Sandworm Party?

As usual, Da-da answered his own question. He knows exactly what he's gonna do: he's gonna shut it off. AGAIN. So, Rog-beast, enjoy your petty dictatorship. (Same for all you politicians and banksters out there.) Enjoy your lies, your cheating, your insanity. And go ahead, His Rogerness, CHEAT the NFL referees out of their pensions and allow the games to be officiated by blind apes and bemused llamas. Da-da isn't worried, as he knows that strong winds cannot blow all day. Da-da has begun his trek to inner peace (two steps forward, three steps back). How did Da-da do this? By turning OFF the TV. And the computer, mostly. This post helped, too. And Rogermatic, here's to knowing that even YOU -- and all those greedy politicians and banksters and Illuminati funyuns -- will one day see the light and achieve enlightenment and DO THE RIGHT THING. One day. Waaaaaaaay in the future. On the Last Day of the Universe. Here's to you. We'll all be waiting, patiently. With the remote.

In the meantime, enjoy this preview of a cat food commercial slated for 2013. Get all the kids together and let them watch it, too! Let's get this cat box off the ground!

"KITTY CAN HAS MORE GROWTH HORMONE!"

7.11.10

Da-da's Mad as Hell and He's Not Going to Take It Anymore


Hi, Roger. Da-da's curious. Why is it you punish NFL athletes for "character issues" week after week, but at the same time allow FOX and CBS to broadcast horribly violent R-rated commercials in-between plays? At ten o'clock in the morning? ON A SUNDAY?? It's made it impossible for Da-da to watch NFL games -- and even more impossible for him to teach the game to his two young hellions, as he can't let them watch that kinda crap without a cranial enema. One minute there's a great game, teams coming together, coming apart, then BLAM: a commercial for some scary-ass movie or Black Ops guns-and-mayhem video game. (This is fine if the game invaders are attacking banks, or maybe Congress.)  And people wonder why children are either depressed or offing themselves or shooting people in schools. This isn't anything new, of course, but it's getting worse and it needs to stop.



Just to be clear, Roger...

ALL COMMERCIALS DURING NFL GAMES SHOULD BE RATED G, esp. at 10:00 am. Run PG ones at 5. Did that come across clearly enough?

Then again, perhaps Da-da should be a "Good Patriot," pay through the nose without complaint and look the other way, let his kids tune in to what Rupert Murdoch and FOX wants pumped into their sensorium (Armageddon, LIVE ON PAYPERVIEW), embrace the sex and violence passed off as video game entertainment... THEN, Roger, then... one day a few years from now, you'll be walking to your car, whistling to yourself after berating some college drop-out athlete for doing something that isn't even a crime, oblivious to the bloodthirsty pack of heavily armed ten-year-olds approaching you from around the corner, freshly programmed to show you the business end of the future. Wake up and smell the hollow points, pal.


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