bad metaphor

E and I opt to celebrate President’s Day, instead of the usual, for a number of reasons: 1) VD is a dumb holiday 2) everywhere is totally booked anyways on the 14th, and it’s best just to avoid the craziness 3) nothing says “I love you” like a commemorative bronze plate with the founding fathers etched on its surface! At least, not according to the tons of infomercials we watched instead of leaving the house.

It takes a true turophile to appreciate the sheer level of art behind the infomercial. Consider it in its finest form, as brought to you by Vince (a.k.a. “Shamwow” guy):

This infomercial is just so beautiful, I have to catch myself every time I watch it from running out and buying a Slap Chop. Or a Shamwow to use for cleaning it!

Not much can top that, but the next contestant brings some stiff competition:

How is it even possible to film a video so remarkably eighties’ looking with the video equipment available to us today? This director deserves awards, for innovations in the science of time travel. I also really love the coyness with which these meretricious “actresses” describe how the product “makes you bigger” or affects “a certain part of the male anatomy.” Which part, the Adam’s apple? The ear hair?

More blatantly obscene is this next clip, from rags-to-riches, sister-in-law’s basement-to-millionaire story Jeff Paul. This isn’t the exact clip that I watched – the one I saw featured two other big busted blonde ladies, one with an atrocious Australian accent.

The one I saw must have been a special edition targeted towards “losers staying home on Valentine’s Day.” It featured a lot of sad sacks who claimed to have “worked odd jobs for $7 an hour,” “failed high school,” or “been divorced four times,” who looked like the schlubbiest of schlubs. But hey, these guys made millions, and so can you, fellow jobless, lonely schlub!

My favorite clip from this weekend is also unfortunately unavailable online (or maybe I just need to pray harder). It is a segment from Morris Cerullo’s “Helpline TV,” in which the scratch-voiced televangelist beseeches the audience to buy one of his many themed bibles. These are bibles in which someone has gone through and highlighted the passages related to whatever theme he has chosen. This one is his best-selling:

If you buy $1000 worth of themed bibles, Morris Cerullo will personally mail you an eagle statue from Tuesday Morning, spray-painted gold and silver by little Indonesian slave children! Here’s a sample of his heavenly voice for those of you who want to be saved.

There are many more useless products on the market these days, and this crap isn’t just gonna sell itself! So please forward me any other shining examples of this genre.

Congratulations Stephanie!

At the end of a nail-biter finale episode, in which sour-faced villain Lisa seemed to be getting the winner’s edit, sanity prevailed and the more consistently strong competitor took the gold. Hoorah! I do have to grudgingly admit that Lisa cooked her ass off during the final, and her tom kha gai actually looked quite delicious. Still, if she’d pulled it off and won, after being in the bottom two for the past seven straight episodes or whatever, it would have been the biggest upset in Top Chef history. Upset, as in the audience being upset and burning down the Bravo studios. Luckily, the chef with the best overall record as well as personality won. To think, Stephanie was so nervous in the first episode that she couldn’t stop shaking, and now she is Top Chef!

Sadly Richard choked at the end, but in a way that still retained his respectability. He, Stephanie, and the others (yes, probably even Lisa) will surely get tons of business from this experience. Overall it was a great season, and between this show, Anthony Bourdain’s travel show, and Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, I have been inspired to cook more and experiment with new kitchen techniques and foods. If only I could afford smokers and liquid nitrogen vats…

Once again, Lisa fucked up badly, but benefited from someone else screwing up even more. Not only that, but she further justified audience hatred by petulantly whining to the two (real) top chefs: “I know you’re sad Antonia is going home but the least you could have done was congratulate me.” YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE, LISA. But, like Richard said, congratulations on your fucking bronze medal! (bleeped by the Gladware network, of course).

The caliber of the two other chefs, Richard and Stephanie, is so much ridiculously higher in comparison that they should have no problems beating her. But dammit, someone who has been in the bottom for the last six straight challenges should not be in the final three. And I now have the fear that Lisa’s insanely good luck will somehow carry her to the title of Top Chef. Like maybe Stephanie slips on a banana peel and breaks a leg, dropping her main course on the floor in the process. Or Richard’s fauxhawk catches on fire.

It did warm my heart to see Dale back, working with Stephanie, and then my warmed heart sank when Dale screwed up and left the main dish out of the cooler all night (pork, definitely something you never ever chance!). This error would have sunk a lesser chef, but Stephanie, with the help of Dale (who felt really awful), pulled it off and made some of the stronger dishes of the night. Go Stephanie!